Page 57 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
‘Oh my God, get a room!’ Ava repeats for not the first time this weekend.
As we head homewards, it feels like even though we didn’t find out therealoutcome of the diary, maybe, just maybe, we found something even better.
19
‘These are the coolest mugs I’ve ever seen!’ Franca, who runs The Nutcracker Shop on the year-round festive end of Ever After Street, loves mugs as much as I do, and she’s volunteered to look after a stall at the antiques fair selling off some of the mugs I’ve gathered over the years. ‘Never mind selling these, I think I’ll end up buying the lot! I’ve been in your shop hundreds of times and I never knew you had mugs in there!’
It’s another thing that rams home how much of a mess I’d let the shop get in to, and how right Ren was in everything he said.
It’s the opening day of the Philip Teasdale Antiques Fair, and all my fellow Ever After Street shopkeepers are covering stalls selling off some of the shop’s treasures. I’ve kept the most valuable things, and the most sentimental things, and the things I like the most, like the dragon fruit table, but I’ve been utterly brutal with everything else. If it doesn’t add actual, real-life value to my stock, then it goes. If it hasn’t sold in over two years, then it goes. This fair will be a great way to reach new clientele, customers who enjoy shopping for antiques and vintage treasures, and who wouldn’t dream of coming to Ever After Street usually. I want them toknowThe Mermaid’s Treasure Trove is here, and for it to give them a reason to come back after the antiques fair is over.
Marnie, who runs the Tale As Old As Time bookshop, is manning a stall filled with random ornaments and knick-knacks, and Imogen who runs Sleeping Beauty’s Once Upon A Dream bed and bath shop is in charge of a stall of tableware. Cleo and Bram have got a Wonderland Teapot stand with cakes and baked treats, and Ali, the chef at the 1001 Nights restaurant, is providing refreshments. Even Mrs Moreno has volunteered to keep an eye on the larger furniture items as long as she’s got a seat and no one minds her knitting a jumper for her cat while she’s on duty. Apart from the cat, presumably.
And then there are the other antiques sellers with shops and businesses far and wide, who travel around and sell at various antiques fairs throughout the country. Most of them knew my dad and have set up booths to support the idea of a local antiques fair being held here on a yearly basis. Witt and Sadie have gone to great lengths to advertise this, and I’m certain the castle grounds will soon be filled with antiques buyers ready to find some bargains.
The stalls are dotted throughout the castle grounds, which are beautifully maintained by Marnie’s other half, Darcy, at this time of year, and the perfume of roses is heavy in the air. The grass is so neat that it looks like it’s been cut with a beard trimmer, the topiary hedge shapes have been maintained so perfectly that there isn’t a single leaf out of place, and I’m honoured by how much work everyone has put in just to make this fair held in my father’s honour as perfect as it can be.
Our stall is up a couple of steps, on a sand-coloured gravel ridge of the gardens, surrounded by neat hedging and stone planters full of tall, purple flowering verbena plants. We’ve got a small marquee set up to protect the ageing pages of the diary from strong sun, and behind us, we’ve put together a wall of foam boards and photocopied the pages and pinned them up, so the whole story is repeated in A4-sized enlarged prints, that people can read without the risk of damaging the ancient diary. Most if it is Ava’s doing. She painted the shells we collected on Arfordir-Môr-Forwyn beach last week and has scattered them around, and decorated our printed pages with shell-shaped ink stamps, stickers, and decorative stems of blue leaves she found in my shop, and I’ve been happy to give her free rein. Having the help and not being alone has given me more confidence in my ability to handle the antiques fair, and no one is more invested in the story of this diary than she is.
‘I can’t believe he sacrificed himself to protect her.’ Lissa is poring over the diary before it gets put back in its locked plastic box to display it to the public but protect it from curious fingers.
She’s stroking its aged pages with the pads of her cotton-gloved fingers. ‘I want to display this in the museum when the antiques fair is over. It’s the most romantic thing ever. It could be Ariel herself writing this.’
‘I don’t think Ava will let it out of our sight. She loves it so much, she keeps reading it over and over again, trying to spot hidden meanings or clues we might’ve missed. And we don’t know that the mystery sailor sacrificed himself. Hecouldhave survived.’
‘A barely healed broken leg, and even in summer, that Irish Sea is vicious andcold. If he did make it to shore, he was a wanted man. Theft, destruction of property, smuggling… His Victorian rap sheet was never-ending. There’s no way this ended happily. If he survived, he was probably thrown in prison for years, and if he didn’t, then…’ She trails off, leaving the prospect of the most likely outcome wide open.
Lissa sighs and puts the book into its box, open on the entry of the shipwreck, and slips the key into the pocket of her shirt. She’s staying here to cover this stall today, so I’m free to go anywhere I might be needed, and talk to the journalists Witt and Sadie have got coming.
The more coverage, the better, I keep telling myself. My dad would have beendelightedto think of his idea coming to fruition, and even more so to have it named after him – I owe it to him to talk it up as much as possible, no matter how far outside of my comfort zone it is.
Our elevated platform in the castle garden gives us a top-down view of the rest of the area, and I spot Ren and Ava heading up the stone walkway towards the castle gates, Ava waving madly when she spots us.
‘How’s that going?’ Without me noticing, Lissa has moved until she’s standing beside me to see who I’m waving at, although she answers her own question when I don’t respond quickly enough. ‘Good, judging by the grin on your face.’
‘Yeah, really great. He’sperfecteven though he’s the furthest thing from perfect, and Ava is the sweetest little muffin. She’s like me when I was thirteen. I can’t pretend I’m not worried about how things will be when school goes back, but we can all cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘A real-life Prince Eric.’ Her eyes follow them as they disappear into the winding paths through the castle grounds, before reappearing at the bottom of the steps up to our flat ridge.
Ava bounces up them faster than a lemur on a pogo stick. ‘Hiiiiiiiii! It’s antiques fair day! Maybe someone will know something about the diary! Maybe one of those antiques dealers will collect mermaid stuff and have her other notebooks!’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Ave.’ Ren huffs up the two steps behind her, looking positively worn out from all the bouncing he’s had to put up with so far today, and all week since we got back from our holiday. Ava has beenreallyexcited about this weekend, and her enthusiasm has rubbed off on me, whereas school starts again on Tuesday and Ren has been more concerned with the practicalities like uniform shopping and lesson planning and preparing for the new term.
She throws her arms around me, and then Lissa, before going to inspect the diary pages on our wall, and double-checking the diary box is locked and that Liss and I haven’t done anything to wreck her decorating handiwork in the hours since she left yesterday.
Lissa offers to take her for a private tour of the Colours of the Wind before customers start arriving, and they skip off together, with Lissa promising she has an exact replica of the statue of Prince Eric that Ariel tries to save in her fairytale museum, and Ren sinks down on one of the stone benches between two planters with a groan that sounds like it’s been alongmorning considering it’s barely 9a.m.
‘Look on the bright side, maybe all this historical stuff will inspire her to give history lessons her full attention from now on,’ I offer.
‘Maybe. And she hasn’t even complained about being out with me lately. You’ve single-handedly turned me into a cool dad.’ He raises an eyebrow and pats the empty space beside him. ‘Good morning.’
I go over and sit next to him, and we share a gentle kiss that’s nowhere near long enoughorsteamy enough, but I’m hyperaware of being above the rest of the sprawling gardens and visible toeveryone.
‘Did you know there’s a guy down there selling genuine Victorian outfits? And someone selling vintage musical instruments, and artwork from years gone by? This place is a historian’s dream. A millionaire historian, but still. I’ve never seen so many pieces of history in one place before. I got quite excited walking through just then. And quite worried about what Ava’s going to make me buy when all those dealers open their shops.’
‘This is what my dad loved. He used to drag me round to antiques fairs at weekends. I hated it at the time, I thought it was all so old and boring!’
‘He’d be so proud of you. Look at this place. Everyone’s gone so far out of their way to make these next two days a success – in his honour. That’s special, Mick. The things you loved have got a much better chance at finding their new owners now, and the shop is like walking into a different space. It’s already attracting more customers, I can tell from how little alone time we’ve had this week.’
