Page 6 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘Ignore several men wearing neon yellow, making the noise of a small army, and carrying ladders and power tools? Are my customers supposed to ignore them too?’
He rushes to catch up so he’s walking beside me instead of behind me. ‘If you ever get any, we’ll find out.’
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, as I sharply turn the corner onto the second floor and pass the closed doors to the now-defunct function rooms and his shiny shoes squeak on the flooring as he rushes to keep up. We reach the stairs to the third floor and he catches up as I’m about to turn onto them.
‘You can call me Warren, by the way. Although I’ll also answer to a demonic gerbil with no soul, if you prefer.’
He’s thoroughly enjoying poking fun at my earlier reaction, and it makes me stomp even faster up the set of stairs to the third and final floor. ‘I could think of a few other names for you.’
‘And I for you, but I’m too much of a gentleman to say them out loud.’
‘Hah. Last I heard, gentlemen don’t waltz into buildings thataren’ttheirs and try to take over thriving businesses.’
‘I’m trying to help.’
There’s something in his voice that makes me want to believe that, but this isn’t the sort of thing I can adjust to that easily. ‘You’ve made a problem and now you’re trying to sell yourself as the solution to the problem that didn’t exist before you arrived. You may wear the suit of a gentleman, but that’s as far as it goes.’
‘Youreallydon’t like my suit, do you?’
‘There’s the office. Make yourself at home.’ I stop beside the kitchen and point towards the table to one side of the small room without giving him the satisfaction of an answer. It’s not his suit I dislike, the suit itself is really very nice, but how can there beanythinglikeable about a company that wants to tear down gorgeous old buildings and put up Rubik’s Cube eyesores in their place, or anyone who works for such a company? The suit is fine and I can’t deny that he wears itwell, but it’s everything else that makes him immensely dislikeable.
‘This isn’t athrivingbusiness, Lissa.’ He stands in the doorway and surveys his new office space with a wary look. ‘As you said yourself, it’s more of a limping zombie, and the sooner you realise that we share the same goal in reviving it, the better.’
‘It doesn’t need your help.’
‘Well,ithasn’t got much of a choice, so I predict that the next couple of months are going to be interesting.’
‘At least we can agree on that.’ I turn around and stalk away, wondering what on earth I’ve let myself in for, and somewhat intrigued by why he’s so keen to help, if help is genuinely what he’s offering.
This museum means the world to me. It’s my little corner of the world. It gives me a sense of purpose, and without it, will I lose that too? It’s my way of bringing a little bit of magic into the world. My mum made my childhood magical, and after she died, it fell to me to bring that same magic into my younger sisters’ lives, and now I try to do it for other children too, because believing in magic and wonder can set people up for life.
And no one is going to get in the way of that.
I can get this show back on the road by myself, can’t I? The museum has had tough times before and we’ve always bounced back. We can do that again, and I certainly don’t need the help of some corporate mouthpiece who thinks I’m doing everything wrong. Ever After Street will never have a cinema complex, not on my watch.
2
‘That’s an intriguing interpretation of office space. I’ve got a kink in my neck already.’ When Warren reappears in the lobby, he’s got one hand on the back of his neck and is turning his head from side to side, his tablet is tucked under his other arm, and he’s got a water bottle dangling from one finger. ‘Shall we start this tour then? Unless you’re snowed under with visitors, that is…’
He waves an open hand around the lobby, but even the workmen have gone for a coffee break and I have to accept that the museum is as empty as it usually is. It’s notalwayslike this. Therearegood days, he just happens to have turned up on a quiet Monday. Of course he has. If someone arrives to pick apart your business, it’s not like they’re going to come on a bright and bustling day when it doesn’t look like it needs any help, is it? That would go against the rules of the universe. All right, there are more quiet days than there are bright and bustling ones, but still. It was busier over the summer and it’s always quieter on weekdays. Things will pick up.
‘Let’s start outside and work our way upwards, and don’t worry, I’ll let you go if there’s a sudden influx of money-wielding guests.’ He spins on the heel of his shiny shoes and heads for the entrance doors, and I get out from behind the reception desk and reluctantly traipse after him. I have a feeling that ‘tour’ may be not quite the right word, and ‘fault-finding exercise’ might be more apt.
‘This sign needs to be much clearer.’ He’s started speaking before I’ve even got outside, and he’s already jotting something down on the screen of his tablet, and then he steps back and snaps a photo of the large metal signpost that shows what the building is. ‘It just says “Colours of the Wind Museum”. There’s nothing that explains what you have on display here, and the name sounds like it could be a museum for autumn leaves.’
‘I would love to see a museum full of autumn leaves.’
‘Yes, quite.’ His blue eyes flick up to me and blink like he can’t quite comprehend someone making a joke about that. ‘But the name means nothing. I amnowaware that it’s a song fromPocahontas, but only because a member of my staff explained it to me last week. I won’t be the only one who doesn’t get it, and people are not going to come in if it isn’t immediately obvious what it is. We’ll need to order a new sign that makes it much clearer. Do you have a logo?’
‘I don’t need a logo.’
‘Everyone needs a logo, for branding purposes if nothing else. You can put it on everything to do with the museum and people will instantly recognise it.’
It’s one of those things that I’ve thought about idly over the years, but a logo has always seemed too businesslike, and the last thing I want is for this place to start feeling like a corporation.
When I shake my head, he sighs and inputs something else into the Tablet of Gloom. He also casts a beady eye over the sandwich board next to the door where the entrance prices are displayed, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. ‘I believe there’s a garden I need to see?’
‘Yes. It’s only small, but it’s special. I’ve carved gaps in the trees for books, strung up fairylights, and there’s a magical wishing well that really grants wishes.’
