Page 21 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘It’s a bit of fun. It makes kids feel special and immersed, like a princess or prince.’
‘Apart from the ones who don’t fit in the clothes. For them, it just makes them feel like outcasts.’
‘I have various sizes of dresses and jackets. It’s impossible to have every option to fit absolutely every child, but there are enough options that most kids can find something.’ I try not to show that I’m quite touched by his sensitivity and thoughtfulness. This is something I’ve worried about too, and there are often tantrums from a child who wants to wear an item of clothing that is simply the wrong size for them, but these are Disney-inspired clothes that Sadie has made for me or that I’ve found in charity shops and got her to alter. ‘Most of the dresses tie on so they’ll tie on to anyone of any size, and at least the headdresses and crowns fit anyone.’
‘And then you have issues where kids don’t want to give them back.’ He was, of course, also present when a parent ran in the other day and returned a tiara after their precious munchkin had snuck out with it hidden under a hooded coat. I’ve become quite good at surreptitiously running my eyes over kids as they leave to make sure they’re not still wearing anything that belongs here, but it does happen occasionally.
‘Look, I was an oversized kid. Bigger than my classmates and taller than most of my teachers. It wasn’t something I wanted to celebrate. A room like that would have made me feel like even more of an outsider. Dressing-up clothes aren’t inclusive enough because they can’t possibly include everybody. Only the kids that “fit” the clothes can enjoy them. By trying to include everybody, you end up excluding some anyway. For kids who don’t fit in, that room is the stuff of nightmares. It still makes me feel uneasy in a PTSD-type flashbacks sort of way.’
‘You were bullied?’ I ask, surprised by his openness.
‘No,’ he says swiftly in a way that clearly means ‘yes’ and expertly sidesteps the question. ‘Do you offer school trips?’
I chew on my lip as I look at the defensive stance he’s developed and the way he’s squared his jaw. I desperately want to know more but I don’t push the topic. I don’t know him well enough and he’s trying to take over my business so I have shouldn’t have any interest in poking around in his private life. I try to pretend I’m not intrigued, but it does make me think about the dressing-up clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s caused ructions. I thought it was a unique part of the Colours of the Wind experience, but Warren’s view has given me pause for thought.
‘Lissa?’ He waves a hand in front of me like it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. ‘School trips?’
‘Oh, yes, sometimes. School trips can be complicated because the ideal age range is pretty small. If the classes are young enough to believe in fairytales then they aren’t familiar with all of them, and a lot of it goes over their heads. Old enough and there’s too much peer pressure to appear grown-up and think stuff like this is childish. I do take them, but it’s usually chaotic and more hassle than it’s worth. I have to close to other customers to accommodate them and the schools don’t pay as well as the potential customers lost, but generally if a school class wants to come here then I like to have them.’
‘Hmm.’ He’s standing in front of the reception desk, pushing a clicky pen against his stubbled chin. ‘I wonder if there’s anything we can do there to make it more worthwhile. Of course, if there was a gift shop, loads of schoolkids with pocket money to spend would buy things…’
I reach over and thwack his arm with the papers I was looking through. ‘A day is just not complete for you without extorting money from a child, is it?’
He sidesteps me easily and his laugh sounds warm and genuine. ‘With a school trip, we could extort money from several children at once. A win all round, I’m sure you’ll agree?’
I’m still laughing when a customer comes in, a grandfather with a little boy in tow. I greet them with my usual cheery greeting, and Warren steps out of the way so they can come up to the counter, and I see the way the grandfather side-eyes him and the little boy clings onto his grandfather’s trousers as he gets his wallet out to pay. He’s trying to hide behind the elderly man’s leg, all the while peeking at Warren uneasily.
‘Apparently I also terrorise small children,’ he mutters as they walk off, confirming that hedidnotice it too.
‘Youarea little overdressed,’ I venture, trying to be tactful, especially after his mention of clothing-related childhood trauma just now, but really, his suit looks like it’s stepped right out of a fancy business meeting with millionaire banking cronies, and in an easy-going place like this, it makes him stand out like a sore thumb.
‘Overdressed? Do you have any idea how much these suits cost?’
‘More than my monthly household bills, I would imagine, but regardless of what they cost, your look is giving, “I’m senior management, I sit behind a desk all day and have no idea how to connect with real people”.’
I can see him prickling after the ease of earlier, and I wonder if I’ve been too harsh and misjudged the jokey way of getting non-funny points across we’ve developed in recent days, an acquiescence that we don’t have much choice about working together and trying to make the best of it.
‘Yeah, well, I am senior management and I do sit behind a desk all day, and I don’t think you can really criticise my clothing choices, do you, Little Miss leggings and sweater-vest?’
‘It’s a jumper-dress!’ I pull my brown and orange extra-long jumper down to my knees self-consciously, even though my thick black leggings keep any modesty well and truly covered. ‘It’s seasonal and it looks welcoming and approachable. Unlike your suit collection, which screams… undertaker. Don’t stand too close, I might embalm you.’
He choke-laughs at that, but I’m on a roll. ‘And your shoes are so unsuitable that they screech on the floors. It’s off-putting.’
It takes him a moment to recover his composure, and then he clears his throat and pulls himself up to full height. He’s over six foot but spends most of his time hunched, or bending over, or leaning on something so he rarely looks as tall as he is. ‘It’s a good job I don’t live my life with an onus onon-putting you then, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not about me. It would helpyouto remember that you’re not in some stuck-up business meeting now. We’re easy-going and warm and friendly around these parts. If you’re staying here, you’re customer facing, or more specifically,mycustomers have got to faceyou. The suits are imposing and unapproachable.’
‘Good. Iamimposing and unapproachable.’
With those words, I see someone desperately trying to put on a front. No one who is imposing and unapproachable has totellyou so, and I realise there’s something much deeper going on behind the smart suits and guarded attitude, but I don’t know him well enough to dig further into it, even though I want to. ‘It’s autumn. Put on a nice jumper or something.’
‘A nice jumper?’ Both his eyebrows rise like he needs to look up the definition in a dictionary.
‘Something friendly and cosy. Cuddly.’
‘Cuddly?’ he repeats in horror. ‘I am the least cuddly person on the planet. Why on earth would I…’ He trails off, shaking his head like the thought is too much to bear. ‘There’s such a thing as looking professional, you know.’
‘And there’s also dressing appropriately for your job. Most of my customer base are under-tens. The fancy suits are superior and out of place here. End of story.’
