Page 73 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘I would estimate that your well was built sometime in the 1600s and pre-dates everything else on this street by quite a few hundred years…’
Or many,manyyears ago, as the case may be.
‘I’ll be taking this forward with a panel of assessors to make a decision about its listing status, but I would suggest that this is one of the oldest semi-intact wells in Herefordshire, and I can’t imagine there would be any objections to designating it a site of historic interest. It’s truly a wonder of ancient architecture…’
Instead of re-opening the doors when he leaves with a final flash of his bowtie, I run down the steps and across the street to The Mermaid’s Treasure Trove and squeal at Mickey, even though nothing’s certain yet, and there are surely all sorts of spanners that Berrington Developments could still throw in the works, but between this and the way their video has backfired on them, it feels like something’s finally going in our direction, and my magical wishing well might have been the answer all along.
When Mickey and I have finished dancing around her shop, I tell her everything. ‘In a strange, roundabout way, Warren might have done what he said he would. He might have saved the museum.’
‘Cryptic clues in a post you don’t even know was written by him is hardly cutting down a maze of thorns and slaying Maleficent, is it?’
Like everyone else on Ever After Street, she’s still angry with him for the camera transgression, and I am too, but he must’ve put his job on the line to write that post, andthatis someone who maybe wasn’t so untrue in his intentions after all.
‘No, but he gave me the sword to slay my own dragon, and isn’t that what every modern-day girl wants in a fairytale? For the main character to be able to save herself… with a little assistance from a handsome prince.’
24
‘Oh, come on, there’s no way we have to go to the rehearsal dinner,’ I moan to Mickey as she forces me to get up off the sofa, where I’ve spent the remainder of the Christmas holidays since my sisters went home, stuffing my face with chocolate and watching sappy films, and now it’s the thirtieth of December, and Sadie and Witt are insisting we all join them for a rehearsal dinner before their big day tomorrow. ‘It’s not like we’re family who need to meet and socialise with other family. I’d rather just stay here. One romance-based outing full of happy couples this week will be quite enough.’
‘We’re a kind of family. And it’s a nice gesture, they want to get everyone together and say thank you before the formality of the big day. Besides, they’re not the only ones with something to celebrate this week. Everyone wants to share in your good news too.’
‘We haven’t got the results of Historic England’s decision yet. They might say no.’
‘They won’t,’ she says cheerfully. ‘Youknowthat’s why Warren mentioned the well weeks ago. He must’ve guessed what was going to happen and had it as a back-up plan, which he couldn’t overtly tell us without betraying his company.’
‘I thought you hated him.’
‘I do, but keeping my best friend working opposite me makes it marginally easier to un-hate him.’
‘I doubt either of us are ever going to see him again,’ I mutter, trying to ignore the gaping hole that feels like it’s opened in my chest with that thought. So many times this week, with the museum closed for the holidays and nothing to occupy my time, my fingers have hovered over his name in my phone, wondering if I should send him a quick text, an innocent thank you for the shove in the right direction, but nothing changes his actions while he was here, and I’ve stopped myself giving in to the temptation.
‘No, I doubt it, but at least it didn’t end on quite such a sour note, hmm?’
‘You are disturbingly cheerful today,’ I mutter as I go upstairs to change into my red off-the-shoulder tea dress, knowing full well that I was never going to wriggle out of it, no matter how hard I tried. The thought of being surrounded by sickeningly loved-up couples for the next few hours makes me want to hide on the sofa forever, and so does the fact that every single one of them knows what happened to my mandatory plus one, and why I’m going to be theonlyguest on my own.
It’s 5p.m. when Mickey, her partner Ren, his teenage daughter Ava and I walk through the Full Moon Forest and along the stone walkway to the castle gates. It’s dark, but the way is lit by streetlamps, and the trees are bare for winter now, their decaying leaves gathered at the edges of the pathways like they’ve been pushed aside to make way for the guests that will be arriving tomorrow.
‘Hello!’ Sadie opens the door wearing jogging bottoms and a sauce-splashed top, with her hair tied back in a bandana and a panicked look on her face. ‘Oh, God, it’s all gone wrong. We’ve got caterers for the big day and I stupidly thoughtIcould cook for everyone tonight, and underestimated both my timings and my cooking ability. Nothing’s ready, nothing’s set up, and you lot all look lovely and refined and not frazzled at all, so you can help me!’
She hauls us all inside and shuts the cold December night out quickly, and starts barking instructions. ‘Mick, set the table! Ren, Ava, you can get the plates from the kitchen! Lissa, chairs! They’re stacked in that little terrace! Just outside the patio doors! Quick, go, go, go!’
Before I’ve had a chance to think, I’m hurried towards a set of glass doors and bundled out into a small garden area, grass and paving stones surrounded by neatly trimmed hedgerow with fairylights winding through it, empty planters that would be full of flowers in the summer, a couple of tables, and… absolutelynochairs.
I turn around to go back in because it’s obviously the wrong place, but there’s a movement in the shadows. ‘Hi.’
The scream I let out is not so much a yelp of surprise as a blood-curdling shriek when a familiar silhouette steps forward and I nearly fall over my own feet as I scramble backwards.
‘What are you doing here?’ I snap, straightening myself out and trying to pretend that my heartisn’tpounding at a hundred miles an hour, and not just from the shock, but because ofwhoit is.
‘I’ve been invited to a wedding but they won’t let me in without a plus one. Apparently they’re mandatory.’ Warren’s fiddling with a large brown envelope held between both his hands.
‘So you thought skulking by a hedge and scaring me half to death would be the best approach?’
‘I thought you might run if you saw me.’
‘And there’s a very good reason for that, isn’t there?’ I turn around and try to open the patio doors I just came through, but they’re locked from the inside, and I quickly realise that this is not a coincidence. I haven’t been sent out here to gather chairs for the dinner. Mickey’s suspicious cheerfulness earlier. Sadie’s overacting. I know my Ever After Street friends well enough to know a carefully planned conspiracy when I see one. Between them, they’ve conspired to get me and Warren out here together, and I have a feeling they’re not going to let either of us back inside for a while yet.
‘So…’ I turn around to face Warren and try not to think about howgoodhe looks in the black cable-knit winter jumper he’s wearing. It’s got subtle snowflakes woven throughout it in silver thread, although there are dark circles under his eyes and his face looks pinched with worry in a way that still makes me want to cup his jaw and smooth the lines away. ‘Have you been sent to help with the imaginary chairs as well?’
