Page 2 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
What the heck? I locked up before I left for the meeting. IknowI did.
Iraceup the steps and barrel inside, and I’m greeted by… men. Everywhere. There are meneverywhere.
Men in yellow work jackets and hard hats. Men up ladders with industrial-sized tape measures. Someone’s marking up the wall outside the room where I keep princess dresses and clothing for children to dress up in when they visit, and I’m bewildered by what I’m seeing. I’ve only been on the other side of the street for half an hour –wheredid all these people come from andwhatare they doing here?
In the middle of the chaos is a man, probably in his early forties, wearing the sharpest suit and smartest tie I’ve ever seen, with fingers flying across a tablet in his hand. He gives off an air of being the one in charge of all this, whateverthisis, and I march across to him.
‘Excuse me, but what thehellis going on here? Who are you and what do you think you’re doing in my museum?’
He looks up from his tablet and when his eyes fall on me, he recoils like I’ve scared him. ‘Wow, you are an ex-plo-sion of colour, aren’t you?’
It does not sound like a compliment, and I shake my hair back and stand taller, trying to embrace the multi-coloured look of my younger sister’s hairdressing training.
‘Let me guess, Lisa Carisbrooke?’
‘It’s Lissa.’
‘Oh, so that’s not a typo?’ He uses a stylus pen to correct something on the tablet he’s holding. ‘I’ve never heard that one before.’
‘I don’t think the spelling of my name is too important when I’m moments away from calling the police!’ I brandish my phone at him. ‘Who are you and what are you doing in my museum?’
‘Oh, where are my manners? My apologies. Warren Berrington of Berrington Developments.’ He holds his hand out like he actually expects me to shake it. ‘Owner of the building, so technically,youare the one inmymuseum.’
‘No, no, no, that’s not right.’ I’m struggling to clear my reeling head. ‘My landlord is?—’
‘Mr Mowbray,’ he fills in for me. ‘Yes, dear old chap, not much of a head for business these days though. Berrington Developments have recently purchased the building and given him a nice nest-egg for his impending retirement.’
The knots twisting around in my stomach are accompanied by a severe sinking feeling. I was hoping this was all a misunderstanding and he was simply in the wrong place, but that flicker of hope is instantly snuffed out. He wouldn’t know that about the landlord if this wasn’t legit, would he?
I reluctantly fold my arms, tucking my phone under my armpit because I haven’t quite given up on the idea of calling the police yet. I’m still hoping there’s some sort of ‘breaking and entering, filling my building with random men’ law he might have flouted, and surely there’s health and safety protocol about the guy on the roof? ‘Why has no one informed me?’
His infuriatingly handsome face contorts in confusion. ‘What do you think I’m doing if not informing you?’
‘I meant in writing. Advance warning, that sort of thing.’
His dark eyebrows furrow. ‘Again, what exactly do you think I’m doing right now? Iamyour advance warning, right here in front of you. Arguably cheaper than a first-class stamp these days.’
‘Doesn’t the landlord have a responsibility to keep tenants informed of changes like this?’ I’m clutching at straws, trying to find some loophole that can punch a hole through this ridiculous claim, and we both know it. I know less than zilch about things like property law, and I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face.
‘Well, you’ll have to takethatup with Mr Mowbray. You’ll probably find him on a plane, halfway to the Caribbean by now. Between you and me, he was looking forward to a break. He’d been struggling to stay on top of his landlordly responsibilities, as I’m sure you know, seeing how you’ve got away with paying such a pitiful amount of rent for so many years. Any landlord still holding onto all their marbles would’ve increased that years ago.’ He gives me the most condescending of all smiles. ‘Fortunately, Berrington Developments are nowhere near as lax when it comes to their duty to their tenants and fair use of their properties.’
Developments. A word to strike fear into the heart of any small business owner who works on a quaint, somewhat old-fashioned street where everyone knows everyone else and every business is run with the heart and soul of its owners, and profit is not the most important thing to any of us. And absolutely no one wears a suit that cost more than my annual takings. I’m trying not to look at him, but it’s hard not to appreciate the fit of that very smart suit, even though I’m certain that the price tag would make my eyes water.
A company with the word ‘developments’ in its name should be nowhere near a street like this. Mr Mowbray has always been a hands-off landlord. He was enchanted by my idea of a museum full of fairytale artefacts, and he stepped back and let me get on with it. I’ve now got a five-year commercial lease with a guarantee of no rent increases. That doesn’t expire for another two years, and there’s nothing this guy can do about it.
I hope.
I go to tell him that, but before I’ve managed to stutter out half a sentence about my long-term lease, he interrupts.
‘Oh, yes, your current lease is voided, by the way. New owners – new lease. Rent’s tripled and we’ve added a tiny little redevelopment clause that states you’ll need to vacate the property within six months should we decide to forge ahead with redevelopment plans. Here you go, here’s the preliminary notice that weareintending to redevelop the site, so I’m officially serving you your six months’ notice. Advance warning, as requested.’ In one swift move, he bends to open a briefcase next to his feet, slides out some papers and pushes them into my hands with a cheerful tap of his stylus pen, like he’s just given me the latest weather report rather than delivered news that will upend my life.
‘What?’ Every word is like a crash-course in gobble-de-gook.Triplemy rent? Evict me in six months? Theycan’t… surely? ‘You can’t do that.’
‘I assure you, I can.’ His smile could actually be quite nice if he wasn’t in the process of destroying my life. ‘We’re a multinational property acquisitions and development company. Family run. My mother handles the acquisitions aspect, I handle the development side of the business. Have done since I left university. We’ve done thishundredsof times. I know my rights – and yours.’
‘I didn’t mean from a legal standpoint, I meant morally.’ I’m struggling to keep the emotion out of my voice. There are too many people here, doing things that I didn’t approve, and this guy is telling me that I’m about to be evicted and there’s nothing I can do about it? It’s all too much. ‘This museum is part of Ever After Street. It’s been here for ten years. The local council have to approve all plans regarding businesses on this street…’ I trail off because I am not the biggest fan of our local council and they might describe me as… a thorn in their side, if they were feeling particularly generous in the descriptive department. I’ve led protests against their unreasonable demands on more than one occasion. If they saw a chance to get rid of me, they’d bite the hand off the person who was offering.
‘The local council have no say over private properties. There may be certain conditions for a tenant to meet, but in redevelopment terms, if we can guarantee an increase in revenue and visitors and something that enhances the street, then we’re all set. We’ve already had preliminary plans approved by the council.’ He says it in an upbeat, lofty voice, like it’s the best thing that’s happened all week, whereas I feel like the whole world is crumbling around me.
