Page 74 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘No, I was waiting for you. This was my fault. I knew they were going to come up with something to send you out here, but no one could have foreseen imaginary chairs.’
It makes me want to snort and he probably hears the burble as I try to hold it back.
‘Witt really did invite me. We’ve met to discuss the well a few times, and we hit it off. The guy who struggles to speak with his stutter and the guy who can’t hear, we’re a match made in heaven, right?’
I press my lips together and try not to smile. He has no right to be this disarming when I’m trying to hold onto my rightful anger. ‘That’show he knew exactly what to put on those forms, isn’t it? I thought it was just part of his old estate agent job, but there was some oddly specific wording that he insisted on. That was you, behind the scenes, right? Even after everything…’
He holds both hands up in a ‘guilty as charged’ gesture, still clutching the brown envelope in one set of fingers.
We pace around each other, he stays on his side of the terrace in front of the glittering hedge, and I stay on mine, by the patio door, pacing in the light spilling out from inside.
‘I wouldn’t have run,’ I say eventually. He looks so nervous that I can feel my anger towards him dispersing. ‘I’ve nearly texted you so many times this week. Just to say thank you for having a back-up plan. We don’t know if it’s worked yet, but?—’
‘It’s worked. It’s not official yet, but I know old stonework when I see it. So does Witt. That well was built an extremely long time ago, the basement was built to accommodate the well, years later. There’s no way it won’t go through, and my company knows it too. Liss, I…’ He sighs and shakes his head. ‘I have something for you.’
He takes a step closer and holds out the envelope, but when I reach for it, he pulls it back. ‘I don’t expect anything from this. It’s not a way of getting you to talk to me. It’s simply following through on what I told you I’d come here to do – save the museum and make sure it never ends up in the wrong hands again. I could have sent it in the post, but honestly, I wanted to see you. I wanted a chance to apologise again and…’
‘…and you’ve clearly got the others on your side.’ I finish the sentence when he trails off.
He smiles for the first time tonight. ‘I had a feeling that to have any chance of winning you back, I’d need a little help from your friends.’
I take the envelope from him and open the top, and pull out… documents. Typed documents full of long, complicated, businessy words that blur in front of my eyes. ‘What is this?’
‘The title deeds for the museum. It’s worthless to Berrington Developments now. They can’t touch any part of the wishing well or the basement where it stands. I took it as pay-off to leave the company.’
‘What?’ This time, the words blur in front of my eyes for a different reason, and I have to hold the pages away so tears don’t drip onto them. ‘I can’t accept this. It’s too much. That’s abigbuilding, it must be worth a fortune.’
‘It’s literally worthless to anyone except you. No one can touch the building without disturbing the well. No developer will ever be able to do anything with it. No one wants it – except those it matters to. If I keep it, you’ll be answerable to me, and I don’t want that. The museum belongs to you. It always has done, but now it’s official. You will never again have to worry about someone like me coming in and taking over.’
‘Warren, you can’t do this…’
‘It’s already done. The paperwork is with the company solicitor, he’ll be in touch when everyone’s back from the Christmas holidays for you to sign the final agreement. The museum is yours, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.’
I don’t realise how hard I’m crying until a huge sob escapes and tears drip onto my chest.
‘I’m sorry.’ He takes a tentative step towards me. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to do the right thing for once.’
‘They’re good tears,’ I reassure him quickly because he’s chewing his lip like he’s done something horribly wrong. ‘I just can’t believe it. You can’t have… You can’t justgiveme the building. Your company bought it. At least let me pay somet?—’
‘The company can afford it.’ He softly cuts off my protest. ‘Between us, we’ve turned it into a worthless albatross that they were only too pleased to get rid of. You owe nothing. The museum is yours.’
It’s like he knows he needs to keep repeating those words so they sink in, and I look up at the night sky, trying to will the tears to stop falling because I cry harder every time he says it. It cannot be real, and yet I’m holding the proof right here in my hand.
‘What this bloody garden needs is somewhere to sit down.’ I perch against one of the tables and try to breathe through the tears, certain that if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and I really will be out here solely to get some chairs, and this won’t be happening in real life. In my wildest dreams, I never expected saving the museum to involve me actually owning it, and I laugh semi-hysterically while still crying, and the resulting noise is enough of a mess that Warren looks alarmed.
‘I want to give you a hug but you’d probably wallop me round the head with that bird bath if I tried.’
I glance at the wide bowl on a concrete pedestal. ‘Nah. Too heavy to lift.’
He laughs a thick laugh that makes me think he’s holding onto his emotions by a thread too.
This is the biggest, most unexpected thing anyone’s ever done for me, so big that it obliterates everything that came before. He made mistakes, but he’s gone above and beyond to make up for them, and it’s increasingly difficult to remember the bad parts, and instead all I can think of is the joy he brought into my life, and how much I’ve missed him.
‘You left the company?’ I sniffle and try to compose myself. ‘Your own family company that you’ve worked at for twenty years?’
‘Yep. And do you know how many times I’ve been happy in those twenty years?’
I shake my head.
