Page 13 of A Wonderland Wish on Ever After Street
From a pocket, he produces a biro and holds it out to me. ‘Sign your initials on it, fold it into quarters, and hold it between your thumb and forefinger.’
I do as he says and he turns back, splices the deck of cards together and shuffles them, and then spreads them across the counter and taps his finger on one and slides it out. ‘Is this your card?’
It’s an Eight of Spades. ‘No. Considering I’m still holding my card, it would be highly unlikely.’
‘Oh, okay, this has gone wrong already. Let me try again.’ There’s a hint of teasing in his voice that suggests this is deliberate misdirection and I play along, because whatever trick he’s trying, it’s not going to work on me.
He reshuffles the cards and pulls out another one and then sighs when I confirm that it, once again, is not the card I’m still holding. ‘Oh well, I’d better give up then.’ He gathers a handful of cards and throws them up in the air and they glide down and land in disarray on the counter, and then he suddenly holds a finger up. ‘Ah, I know where it’s got to.’
His hands go to his hat, and from behind the ‘ten shillings and sixpence’ sign, he pulls out a folded playing card and holds it up in front of me, making a show of deliberately unfolding it. ‘Isthisyour card?’
Even though I’m surprised when he unfolds the Three of Diamonds and points out theCJI signed in the corner, I try to keep a neutral look on my face. Okay, so he’s got duplicate cards in that deck or something. I’m going to need a closer look at those initials. It’s probably one he prepared earlier. The point is that I’m still holdingmy card. ‘Yes, it is.’
He does a mocking gasp of surprise. ‘Well, ifthisis your card, what card are you holding?’
I unfold it and have a look because he’s not fooling me that easi— ‘Oh, comeon! That’s not… I mean, that wasn’t…Howdid you…’
He grins at me with that audacious beam, because the card I’m holding is a folded-up Jack of Hearts.
‘I haven’t let go of that card once! How could you possibly have switched it?’
‘Magic.’
‘It wasn’t magic.’ I want to be disparaging, but I’m absolutely flummoxed by how he did that. My thumb and index finger have been on that card the whole time. I can’t explain how it’s suddenly turned into a different card, and like most things I can’t explain, it leaves me feeling an exhilarating mix of nerves, awkwardness, and disbelief, and I have no idea how to deal with it, so I start laughing. ‘How?’
He laughs too. ‘Magic circle. A magician can’t reveal his secrets.’
‘You can’t do that and then not tell me what wizard-y sorcery this is!’ I know it was a trick of some sort, some kind of sleight of hand thing where he switched out the card while I was looking at something else, but I can’t deny he’s bloody good.
‘Worked, didn’t it?’
‘Hmm?’ Without realising it, I’m watching him gather up the cards from the counter and tap them back into a neat pile, hypnotised by how fast his fingers move and it takes me a moment to understand what he’s getting at. ‘Oh, you haven’t made me believe in magic. You’ve distracted me with trying to work out how you did that.’
‘Near enough.’ He’s still grinning and now he shrugs too. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since I came in, so it was worth it.’
‘I don’t like tricks – they’re intended to make a fool out of others,’ I snap at him, and then feel ridiculously guilty. He did makeme smile, and lately, there haven’t been many people in my life whowantto make me smile, and I like that he tried so hard. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that. That was very clever. You’re…’
I make the mistake of looking up into his brown eyes and my mouth goes dry and my brain sputters to a halt. I wet my lips to prise them apart with my tongue. Words are rushing in my head, racing with each other for attention. That is a sentence with too many possible endings. He might be a bit bright and lively, but he doesn’t deserve another insult. His eyes are glinting, challenging me to say something flattering.
‘…magnetic,’ I finish eventually, and of all the words I was thinking of,thatwasn’t one of them. Where did that come from? Why did it come out of my mouth?
He grins and drops eye contact. ‘Well, stick me on a fridge and call me Trevor. IthoughtI heard a compliment from you yesterday but now I’ve definitely heard one. Thanks!’
I glare at his sarcasm and hold out the Jack of Hearts card, and his fingertips brush against mine as he takes it and tucks it into the teapot display next to the Queen of Hearts card he gave me yesterday.
I have a feeling they’re the first of many.
That afternoon brings our first Unbirthday party. It’s a mum bringing in her two daughters, and she explains that it’s the older of the two girls’ first school day after a long illness, and she promised to bring them both in for a little celebration as a reward for overcoming her first-day-back nerves. This is what I’ve always wanted to do. My first thoughts of an Alice-themed tearoom were about throwing Unbirthday parties, and I don’t know who’s more excited –the girls or me.
While the family choose their cakes and order sandwiches from the menu, Bram sets up a table in the corner. I’ve made a selection of props for occasions like this. There are placemats made of artificial grass, vases of paper roses, and brightly coloured broken teacups glued together in stacks and decorated with ribbons and faux flowers, and teapots everywhere, their spouts pointing in all different directions. It’s chaotic and fun and the most Mad Hatter-style tea party I could create with a box of broken china from Mickey in The Mermaid’s Treasure Trove shop and my beloved hot glue gun.
I put together ham and mustard sandwiches for the mum, and jam sandwiches for the two girls and cut them out with cookie cutters, so each sandwich is crustless and flower shaped, and garnished with a fresh mint leaf. I do a teapot of tea for the mum, and another teapot of orange squash for the two girls, because no one should miss out on the teapot experience, even if they’re not drinking tea. I tie ‘Drink Me’ tags around the handles of their teacups, and carry over the first tray, and Bram goes over to pick up the drinks tray and bring it over.
My idea for Unbirthday parties was always that ‘Alice’ could join them if they wanted company, so I look around to check there aren’t many other customers, and apart from one woman typing on a laptop who looks thoroughly unimpressed with all things Wonderland, and Mrs Moreno, an elderly lady who also came in yesterday for a toasted teacake, there aren’t any. ‘What a coincidence, it’s my Unbirthday too. Can I join you?’
The girls nod enthusiastically, and I take a seat at their table, and then glance up at Bram. ‘How about you, Hatter? It’s your Unbirthday as well, isn’t it?’
‘It is.’ He looks confused for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting me to get involved, and then he covers it with his familiar grin. ‘And no Mad Hatter ever says no to a tea party!’
