Page 23 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
He looks up and meets my eyes. ‘No.’
I’m never sure whether I can trust him or not, but in that one simple answer, I believe him. It brings to mind all sorts of questions about whodiddo this, and how they got in to the museum in the first place, or why. I know Mickey’s got the spare key, but there’s no way she could have got this out either, and there’s certainly no reason for her to go into the museum at night without telling me. There has to be something else at play here, I just don’t know what it is yet.
‘You didn’t either, I’m guessing.’
I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead to wipe away sweat and shake my head.
He nods like he believes me too. ‘Now we can’t say that nothing’s been taken. We’re calling the police as soon as we get back.’
Something doesn’t fit quite right about this. The pumpkin carriage was taken from the museum, yes. It was left on the edge of the riverbank, yes, but it isn’t damaged. It didn’t look like it had been dumped there, it looked artfully arranged, its own image reflecting on the water, and I feel like I’m missing something. ‘What happened to sitting tight?’
‘We’re in the middle of hauling an extraordinarily heavy pumpkin carriage up from a riverbank. That’s where sitting tight ends for me. I can entertain the joyous thought of sentient exhibits to a degree, but this… This did not get down there on its own.’
‘But it doesn’t feel malicious…’
‘Itfeelslike someone is breaking in at night and having a laugh at our expense. It’s probably teenagers who have either managed to pick the lock or stolen a key and are going there to hide out, drink, take drugs, and whatever other illegal things teenagers do when they get together to do things they shouldn’t do. Of course, if you had CCTV…’
It’s not the first time he’s lambasted my lack of CCTV, but it’s yet another expense that I can’t afford, and now I’m wishing I’d made it a priority because it would soon sort out what’s going on at Colours of the Wind while our backs are turned.
‘Do any of the other shops have CCTV that might cover a part of the street?’
‘I doubt it. Most people around here are traditional and CCTV feels like too much of an intrusion. The council have cameras covering the main street and the car par?—’
‘The council! Lissa, you’re a genius!’ He pushes himself upright and darts out onto Ever After Street and I watch him stalking up and down the cobblestones, taking stock of where the CCTV cameras are. One of them covers the area around the carousel at the base of my steps, so there’s a small chance that it might have picked something up and probably an even smaller chance that the council would willingly share it with us.
He points out all four cameras when he comes back, looking excitable. ‘That’s got to have captured something. One of us can stop by the council building later and see what they’ve got.’
I don’t mention my not-so-wonderful relationship with the local council, but if anyone’s going to try, it will need to be him. ‘I think there’s about as much chance as us getting this back up to the museum without one of us dying, but I’m surprised you’re such an optimist.’
‘I am.’ His grin changes his whole face from its usual default semi-frown look and makes his eyes gleam like a kid again. ‘I don’t think we’ll die. Maybe rupture something and be hospitalised for weeks though? And you think I don’t know how to look on the bright side.’
It makes me laugh as we set off again, alternately pushing and pulling the pumpkin carriage across the bumpy cobblestones of Ever After Street, ignoring theverystrange looks we’re getting from families visiting the street.
‘How did you even get this thing anyway?’ Warren wheezes.
‘Mickey found the frame at an antiques fair and knew I’d be able to do something with it. So I bought it, scrubbed it and sanded it down, added some rounded wooden panels to make it pumpkin shaped, painted it, and voila.’
‘That’s… pretty impressive.’
‘Thanks.’ If my face wasn’t already red enough to rival the spot on Jupiter, I’d be blushing at how sincere he sounds. ‘Visitors love that they can actually sit in Cinderella’s carriage. It’s a great photo opportunity.’
He goes to speak but I interrupt him before he has a chance. ‘And no, we can’t start charging for photos.’
‘Actually, I was going to say that we need more photo opportunities. I’ve noticed that your visitors like them.’
I appreciate his perspective and itistrue. People love a photo op. ‘And more opportunities for photos people can share on social media would be a good thing.’
‘Good thinking. We’ll make a businesswoman out of you yet!’
We’re both as embarrassingly out of breath as each other while we push the pumpkin carriage up the grassy verge beside the steps leading to the museum’s door.
‘I am impressed, you know,’ he says as we reach the top of the hill, gasping, and stop outside the doors and look back at the climb we’ve done. ‘That you make pretty much everything yourself. That’s a lot of time and dedication. I can’t imagine giving that much of myself to anything.’
‘Your job?’ I ask, and it makes me realise that I know next to nothing about him, despite him getting under my feet for many days now. He hasn’t revealed anything about himself, his life, his likes and dislikes, any hobbies. There’s keeping a professional distance and there’s justbeingdistant, and I still get the feeling that he’s not being honest about something, and maybe it’s part of that. If he’s trying to keep something hidden, maybe it’s easier to keepeverythinghidden? Or maybe it’s my fault. I haven’t been as welcoming as I could have been. I haven’t asked him any questions or been particularly friendly. I haven’t embraced the ‘working with him’ aspect that he suggested, despite his insights being right on the mark. Maybe he’d have been more open ifIhad been more open too?
He shrugs and makes a noise of indifference. ‘A job is a job. I could live without it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pay my bills without it, so it’s a necessary evil.’
I’m surprised by his apathy. Since he’s been here, his job is theonlything I thought he was dedicated to. The only thing that’s broken through his wholly professional façade is the possibility of exhibits coming to life, and I’m determined to find out more about him. If I knew more about him, maybe I’d have a clue about what he might be hiding.
