Page 64 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
To chase it away, I lean up until I can kiss him again, and his hands are in my hair, and on my back, holding me closer, and the kiss feels increasingly desperate, like he’s clinging on, kissing me as though it’s the last chance he’ll ever have. The mention of him leaving has given us both the realisation that this is coming to an end, sooner than I’d hoped, and I’m surprised by how much I wish it wasn’t.
‘Before we have to think about that,’ I say when we pull back, but instead of snuggling up against him again, I decide it’s time to share an idea I’ve been toying with. ‘There’s an idea I’ve been wanting to run past you and I could do with your expert opinion, but it clashes with your cinema complex and maybe takes inspiration from it a little bit…’ I blurt out before I second-guess myself. It’s something that felt impossible when I was by myself, but with Warren here, it feels doable, but I don’t know how he’s going to react to an idea of screening films after my rejection of his cinema complex. ‘Have you seen the performances where they put on a musical in bars and pubs?’
‘Taking children to bars? Great idea, can’t go wrong.’ He gives me a sarcastic thumbs up, and I grab his thumb and pull it down and then don’t let go of his hand.
‘No, I mean, the singers perform a musical, but they mingle with the crowd. They act out the scenes and sing live in the space they’ve got. They use the whole area as a stage and make the crowd part of it. So I was thinking… what if we used one of the empty rooms upstairs to install a cinema screen, and we could screen Disney movies while actors act out some of the parts in front of the audience.Beauty and the Beast, while Belle in her yellow ballgown and the Beast in his blue suit dance between the kids who are watching. We could watchCinderellaon screen scrubbing the floor and blowing bubbles while someone playing Cinderella actually scrubs the floor and uses a bubble wand to blow bubbles across the audience.Tangledwhile Rapunzel and Flynn hand out floating lanterns to release at the “I See the Light” moment in the film. A real experience. Something immersive. It pays homage to your cinema idea, but retains the integrity of the museum. Anyone can watch Disney movies at home, but we could give them something different, a reason to come here that’s more than just staring mindlessly at a screen. And we could do popcorn, and maybe have quizzes and prizes afterwards, and…’ I trail off because he’s watching me with an unreadable look on his face. ‘You think it’s awful, don’t you?’
‘Lissa, you’re like living magic.’
‘What?’
‘You love this placesomuch, you never stop thinking about it, trying to improve it, make it better and even more magical. I understand what the others said now about this beingyourmagic. You’re the most inspirational person I’ve ever met. I wish I had as much love and conviction in my entire body as you have in one toe. This museum is not magical, butyouare.’
‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’ I’m fighting back tears at how genuine he sounds. I squeeze the hand I’m still holding and his fingers tighten over mine. ‘You can’t say things like that and be leaving in three weeks.’
‘No, I can’t.’ He breaks eye contact and clears his throat, trying to cover emotions that sound like they’re clamouring to get out. ‘I love this idea. The quirky collections don’t need to take up more than two of those rooms, and it’s a great use for the third one. I’ll support it as much as I can, but I can’t be part of it.’
He seems sad and downtrodden, and that undercurrent of how soon he’s leaving is flowing through this entire conversation and clouding everything. It’s unreal to consider that two and a half months ago, I thought his arrival was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and now I feel like his departure is going to change everything again, but this time, in the worst way possible.
21
‘One thousand crochet flowers.’ Warren sifts through the box that Mrs Coombe who runs All You Need is Gloves has just delivered. She makes a selection of warm winter clothing for humans and pets in her shop on Christmas Ever After, and in her spare time, she crochets flowers, which no one knew until she answered the request I put out for collections we could put on show. ‘How on earth are we going to display these?’
‘These ones on wire stems can go in a vase on a table as a centrepiece, and Mick’s got a stack of foam boards we could borrow, so we could line the wall with them and then pin each flower on, like 3D wallpaper…’
Mickey is downstairs, watching the front desk and gift shop, while we’re in one of the rooms upstairs, figuring out the best way to display our collections. We’ve got Warren’s display cabinet full of Tamagotchis, and a couple of room dividers to separate each collection and create a cohesive walkway around the room. We’ve put up shelves to hold Marnie’s Ladybird book display… and now, for the opposite wall, crochet flowers.
I’m loving every minute of this. The room feels alive with the love and attention our friends have put into these collections for years. It’s an honour to be trusted with them, and I’m excited to see where it could go if we invite people from further afield to show off their collections here. The room is alive with the sizzle of something else too because Warren steals a kiss every time we cross each other’s paths, finds any reason he can think of to touch me, and it’s an internal fight tonotwrestle him to the floor and make good use of the time he has left before he leaves.
While I’m trying not to think about that, I hear the noise of the stairs creaking like someone’s coming up, even though the upstairs is off-limits to the public at the moment.
‘Liss! Visitor!’ Mickey yells up from below, presumably because she’s concerned that Warren and I being alone in a room together is likely to end in only one way and she’s trying to prevent us being interrupted again.
We both spin around at the exact moment that a woman appears in the doorway. She’s tiny in stature, probably older than she looks in her black pencil suit with once-grey hair dyed the darkest of black and cut in an angled bob. The only splash of colour is her postbox-red lipstick and her leather handbag that’s somehow an exact colour match.
‘Mother!’ The easy smile on Warren’s faceplummets.
Mother? Oh, blimey. I wasnotexpecting to come face to face with her, ever, let alonetoday. Has she come all the way here from London? Why would she do that? I glance at Warren to see if he’s as surprised as I am, and the look on his face leaves me worried. He does not seem okay, and I wish I was standing close enough to give his hand a supportive squeeze.
‘What are you doing here?’ His voice sounds unsteady, like her sudden appearance has knocked him sideways.
Instead of answering, she makes no secret of the way she’s looking him up and down, and Iseeher taking in the Converse he’s wearing with jeans and a casual jumper. His hair isn’t stuck down, and he’s holding a handful of crochet flowers. ‘I think a more pressing question, dear boy, iswhatare you doing here?’
He recovers his composure and goes over and gives her an air kiss on either cheek, and I see her eyes stop on his ear, the hearing aid, and her red lips press themselves into an even thinner line of disapproval.
He holds an arm out towards me. ‘This is Lissa, who I’ve been telling you about.’
‘Hello.’ I feared I might be about to commit an etiquette crime by going over to give her a hug, but her standoffish nod suggests that physical contact would be as welcome as a thunderstorm when you’ve just put your washing out. Although her red manicured fingernails make her look like the type of person who would not concern herself with menial tasks like housework.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Berrington. I’ve heard so much about you.’ I give her my most charming nod back.
‘So have I, dear. So have I.’ It doesnotsound like a good thing.
‘This is the display of people’s collections I mentioned,’ Warren explains, shifting uneasily. ‘We’re getting them set up, ready to open to visitors at the weekend.’
She peers around the room and her eyes fall on the Tamagotchi collection. ‘Oh, your father’s silly little game things. I never could abide them.’ She turns to me. ‘An adult man playing with toys. I was going to say that you shouldn’t be encouraging such a silly hobby, but at least if they’re here, they’re not in his house. Small mercies.’
‘I think it’s a lovely way to honour his father’s memory.’ I feel myself bristling in a way that I haven’t sincehefirst arrived. ‘I’m lucky that he’s let me display them. And look at these beautiful flowers that one of our colleagues has crocheted. Aren’t they fantastic?’
