Page 34 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘Oh, I’m okay…’ I trail off, surprised that he’s offered something so thoughtful. I didn’t expect him to consider that althoughhemight’ve been semi-prepared to spend the night here, I’m not. ‘Food, I guess. I’m not fussed, whatever you’re having.’
He nods and loudly says goodnight like he really is expecting that someone’s eavesdropping.
As he leaves, I quickly text the group.
He’s just gone out. I could fetch something out now and stash it somewhere until later…
Mickey’s reply comes through instantly.
Too much of a risk. This could be a trap and he’s watching the building from somewhere to test us.
I laugh out loud to myself about him saying the exact same thing about them not five minutes ago, until another message comes through.
You’ll have to smuggle something out to us later. It’ll be a dead giveaway if you don’t! Either he catches us in the act or he proves that nothing happens if he’s watching. The only way to get past this is if something happens right under his nose – while he’s watching! None of us can get in or out unseen if he’s there. You’re our only hope of calling his bluff.
They have a point, of course. He’ll either catch who’s really responsible or he’ll know that I’m involved and I’ve forewarned them not to come, but if something was still to escape without him seeing or suspecting anything and then, in the morning, he can’t prove how an exhibit could still have got out then it would be a good thing…
More messages come into the group chat, and I should feel as excited as the others are about this opportunity to beat him at his own game, but I feel like this is going from bad to worse. Now I’m not only pretending to be on a stakeout with him, but I’ve got to somehow smuggle something outside without him catching me. How am Ievergoing to pull that one off when I’m certain that he’s also staking outmetonight, and making sure that Idon’tsmuggle something out?
It isn’t long before there’s a quiet knock on the back door, and when I open it, Warren ducks in. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt and black jogging bottoms, carrying a paper bag from a health food shop a couple of streets over, and has what looks like a sleeping bag rolled up and held by a strap over his shoulder.
‘How long have you been planning this?’ I say, at a loss for anything else to say as I lock the door behind him.
‘Only since yesterday. It’s long past time we got to the bottom of this.’
I go to ask him if anyone saw him coming back, but realise how ridiculous it is before the words come out, so I change the question. ‘You do wear something other than suits sometimes then?’
‘Of course. For sleeping or lying around the house. I’m intending to spend tonight on the landing with only dustsheets for padding. A suit wouldn’t cut it in this situation.’ He fiddles with the drawstring of his jogging bottoms. ‘Although you do have alotof views on my wardrobe choices.’
‘Well, you dropped the mermaid in a tank idea, so you’ve left me with nothing else to complain about.’
He’s laughing as he dumps the bags he’s carrying at the bottom of the stairs and pulls the Tablet of Gloom out. ‘Just going to do a walkaround and make sure nothing’s missing at this point, and hope it stays that way.’
I debate following him, but I decide I’ve already aroused enough suspicion tonight with my overzealous protest about his stakeout idea, so I go back to the till and finish cashing up for the night, pleased to see the marked increase in takings since the social media posts went live, and that distracts me from thinking about how the ever-loving heck I’m going to manage to smuggle something out without him catching me.
It’s definitely going to be a long night.
* * *
‘Today’s Lumière post has got a fantastic response.’ Warren’s sitting cross-legged on the spread-out dustsheets when I get to the upstairs landing, his water bottle in front of him, and his fingers are flying across the Tablet of Gloom’s screen while the other hand holds a sandwich he’s munching on. ‘There are 233 comments and they’re almost all positive. People saying they’ve forgotten about this place and want to come here again. People saying they loved their visit here and this is great fun. People saying they’re long overdue a visit to Ever After Street or that they wish they lived close enough to visit. Someone’s started a “fairytales in the wild” hashtag. This is really capturing imaginations. There’s so much marketing potential in this, I hadn’t realised how big it could get.’
‘Big?’
‘The fairytale museum with exhibits that come to life at night. The secret lives of the museum exhibits.Night at the Museumin real life. This has turned itself into a huge selling point.’
‘The others have turned it into a huge selling point. They saw the social media potential and acted on it, even though they had nothing to do with the rearranging of the exhibits themselves.’
He raises an eyebrow without looking up from his tablet. ‘We have to tap into this while we can. Tomorrow, we’ll film a little promo video, I’ll record and you can move things offscreen so it’ll look like they’re moving on their own. We’ll overlay it with some music and post it online, and on your website, which I’ve got a designer working on as we speak, and?—’
‘Have you?’
‘Yeah. I told you I’ve got a small budget and that website needed some serious investment. I’ve seen some early preview pages and it’s great. He’s got a little animated wishing well in one corner with butterflies fluttering around it, and he’s going to do seasonal themes that can be changed easily. It’ll really help with your presence online.’ His voice speeds up when he’s excited about something, and it’s easy to see he’s wholly invested in this.
‘Thank you. That’s really nice of you. Surprisingly nice.’
He looks up and the smile he gives me is nothing but sad, and I wish I hadn’t added the bit about it being surprising, because it feels like I’ve just kicked a puppy for no reason. I immediately want to apologise but I’ll only end up digging myself in deeper, so I pretend I haven’t said anything while feeling silently guilty for being so cynical. His first impression all those weeks ago might not have been great, but there’s nothing surprising about him being nice now I’ve got to know him a bit.
I’ve turned all the lights off downstairs so it looks like the museum is closed for the night, but up here, Warren’s put a super-beam torch on a stand, ready to turn on when darkness falls later.
