Page 4 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘Of course it wouldn’t,’ I mutter. Did I really expect any different response? ‘And why does everything modern have to be indoors? Wall climbing, golf, bowling. Mostly traditional outdoor activities. Shouldn’t we be encouraging children to spend more time outside and away from screens? Let me guess, not your problem?’
‘I’m a businessman, not a parent. If we give kids – and adults, and families – as many activities as possible that they can do in one place, they spend more time in that one place, and therefore, more money.That’sthe only bottom line that matters.’
‘Of course it is.’ I echo the same response as earlier. The businesses and shops, andfriendswho are going to suffer because of this are irrelevant to his company.
The magnitude of it starts to sink in as I tap his tablet to turn the screen back on and stare at the drawing again. This is not just about Colours of the Wind. It isn’t just me who will lose my business if this plan comes to fruition. This will be the end of Ever After Street as a whole. If everyone who comes here is going to spend hours glued to a cinema screen, or scoffing pizza, or scrambling up a wall or playing indoor golf, theyaren’tgoing to be visiting the quaint and quirky shops here, like Marnie’sBeauty and the Beast-themed bookshop, Mickey’s curiosity shop, or Imogen’s Once Upon A Dream that specialises in all things cosy, like pyjamas, fancy bedding, and candles. Small independent shops will fall by the wayside in favour of this under-one-roof approach where customers can spend their entire day… while the rest of the street stands empty.
The thought makes the emotions rolling through me even stronger, and I turn away and swipe at my eyes, angry at myself for not being able to hide it. I’m trying to pretend I’m not crying, but the unexpected shock of this has undone me.
‘Iamhere to help…’ He’s looking at me warily, like he’s not sure if I’m going to start wailing or bare my teeth and try to nip him.
‘Why would you help me ifthisis what you intend to do to my building?’ I jab angrily at the tablet and he reaches over and extracts it from my hands before I do it any damage.
He lets it slide that this isn’tmybuilding – it never was, and it never will be. My teeth cut through the inside of my lip until I taste blood as I try to stem the tears again. This museum is the only thing that’s ever given me a sense of stability in my life. The security of being a mainstay of Ever After Street is gone in an instant, and I don’t know what to do about it.
He taps at the tablet again. ‘Thisis going to cost alotof money, and Ilikethe concept of a fairytale museum, it’s interesting and different and could be huge if done right.’
I bristle at the implication thatIhave not been doing it right for all these years.
‘The way I see it is that it will cost a lot less to invest in this place as it is, bring in some much-needed upgrades and budget fine-tuning, and see where it takes us. My mother was all for immediate demolition, but it was me who put forward this plan and got us this stay of execution. We have until the end of the year to turn this around and prove that it’s better value to keep it as it is – with a few minor adjustments – than it is to build the cinema complex. My company can put up a cinema complex anywhere – I’ve overseen four already in the past couple of years – but where else are we going to find something as unique as a fairytale museum?’
My hackles have risen at his way of making it sound like I have some sort of choice, when it’s blindingly clear that I do not. ‘And I will be at your mercy? Constantly waiting for the day you decide you’re going to knock it down anyway and evict me at a moment’s notice?’
‘Six months’ notice.’ He corrects me by tapping his pen on the papers in my hand. ‘And I’ll offer you a deal. If you can prove that this place is worth keeping – that it’s a worthwhile business venture, and it can make us more money than a cinema complex could, and you can cover the increased rent – then we’ll match Mr Mowbray’s terms in the lease. Five years, and we’ll take out the redevelopment clause.’
‘And after that?’
‘We’ll reassess, as any good landlord should.’
That bit is fair enough, even Mr Mowbray reassessed every once in a while. It’s everything else that feels hideously unfair. How can this man swoop in here and act like he’s trying to help? ‘And what exactly would these “minor adjustments” entail? Is that what all these workmen are doing? Measuring up for your “minor adjustments”?’
‘They’re surveying, getting a feel for?—’
‘All good for the fishtank, Mr Berrington!’ one of the workmen interrupts by bellowing across the lobby. ‘It will fit here nicely, as you thought, sir.’
‘Fishtank?’ I stand up straighter. ‘Why would you want a fishtank? And why would it be so big that you need two men and two stepladders to measure up for it? We’ve tried a fishtank before, it had a blue-and-yellow angelfish in it, like Flounder, and the poor thing died and a child found it before I did, and well… let’s just say that child was probably traumatised for life and I decided not to do living creatures again after that.’
‘Ah, but this fishtank won’t be housing a fish. It’ll be housing a mermaid.’
I flick my head like I’ve misheard him. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news but mermaids aren’t known for existing.’
‘No, but have you seen those shows where swimmers dress as mermaids and can hold their breath underwater for an astoundingly long time? Everything you do here is so small. You need to think bigger. We need things that are a spectacle. Things that people willcometo see.’
‘I thought we needed “budget fine-tuning” and you want to install a giant fishtank for a fake mermaid?’ The clicks of my foot tapping on the black and white chessboard floor echo through the old building.
‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think we’d struggle to find a real one.’ He deliberately repeats my own words with a sarcastic smile.
‘No. I mean, you can’t do that. It’s not real. I take pride in every single exhibit being faithful replicas of items from fairytales. The entire point of this museum is so children leave here believing their favourite stories are real. That if the things in them are real-life objects that they can pick up and hold and connect to, then magic must be real too. Mermaids aren’t real. That clashes with my entireraison d’être. People are going to know it’s just a person in a monofin flipper tail.’
‘Yes, but the point is, they’ll pay an admission feebeforethey do. That’s something else we need to address – the absolute pittance you charge for admission. It’s laughable. A fiver per person or tenner per family is nothing less than an insult to the exhibits here.’
I’m surprised by how much that sounded like it was partially a compliment. Is it quite nice that he thinks my exhibits are worth more? ‘Do you know how difficult it is to find places to take children that are affordable? Some people are struggling to put food on the table. People are behind on bills for essentials like electricity, heating, and hot water – they can’t afford big days out, the theme parks and other places children want to go, but they still need to keep their little ones entertained. Everyone on Ever After Street has made it a priority to keep things affordable. The shops keep things reasonably cheap, the attractions charge small. It benefits us all in the long run.’
‘I’m not here to fix Ever After Street as a whole, although I’ve only been here for half an hour and I can already give them anextensivelist of things that need improvement.’
‘Nothing needs improvement!’
‘The attitude of someone who doesn’t realise that times are changing and businesses need to change with them to stay relevant. If your fellow shopkeepers feel the same, no wonder this street is stuck in the dark ages.’
