Page 29 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘They’re work suits. It’s a company-issued car to make sure all employees look the part and impress potential clients. I’m just a normal guy with normal struggles… who never usually lets the professional front slip this much.’
A professional front. In those few words, he answers so much about himself. I’m not used to people who are all-business. On Ever After Street, everyone’s businesses are run from the depths of their hearts, and everyone is emotionally invested in everything we do, but Warren has always seemed aloof and determined to keep a professional distance at all times. Is that frontexactlywhy I don’t know much about him? In fact, the only moment it’s cracked even slightly is when he’s been intrigued by something the exhibits have done, and unable to hide the little boy buried deep down inside.
I relent and answer his question. ‘Like food. Enough food to have breakfast as well as dinner. Enough food that Mummy can eat too. Clothes without holes in them. Clothes warm enough to keep out the winter chill. Blankets warm enough that their parents don’t have to worry about putting the heating on.’
‘Wow.’ He’s chewing his lower lip as he looks at me, making me self-conscious of how intently he’s focusing on my mouth again. ‘That’s… unthinkable.’
‘That’s the reality of what life is like for a lot of people these days. People have to choose between buying food and paying their heating and water bills. Children go to bed hungry. Children go to school hungry. Mickey’s partner is a teacher and he confirms this is true for many families. It was true for me when I was younger. After my mum died, my familystruggled. Dad’s grief was overwhelming. He lost the will to work, and when he did work, he struggled with childcare, and one inconsistent wage wasn’t enough to bring up five girls and pay all the bills. I was the lucky one. I grew up with two parents. I was the oldest, so I had no hand-me-downs, but after life changed, I watched my sisters fight against every second of not having the things their friends had. Wanting new clothes and toys and having to put up with clothes that didn’t fit the rest of us any more, and toys the rest of us didn’t want any more, and there was nothing I could do about it. I watched Dad go without so the rest of us had full dinner plates. And now, I see the same happening to other families, and I feel that if I’m in a fortunate enough position to be able to help, then I want to. I didn’t know that’s what the wishing well was going to become, but when you read some of those wishes, it’s heartbreaking, and when the other shopkeepers found out what I was doing, they got involved too. Now I get the kids to write down their info so we can find them again, and every few weeks, I gather the wishes and we all get together and see what we can do between us.’
I didn’t expect to reveal something so personal, but he’s listening intently with a slow and understanding nod. ‘I lost my dad at an early age too, so I get it. I realise that I’m lucky never to have gone without anything, but childhood wasn’t easy. I relate to that, very much so.’
I can’t help responding to the soft smile he gives me. That’s the first time he’s mentioned his father and I had no idea that we shared a childhood experience like that, and it gives me an urge to hug him that must be avoided at all costs.
He must sense it too because he looks down at the colourful pieces of paper on the floor. ‘May I?’
It’s nice that he asks permission and I nod, and watch as he crouches again and picks up a folded green paper, and then laughs loudly and holds the paper up to me. ‘Way to prove a point. This kid wantsa new Xbox so I don’t have to share with my brother, and more games than he’s got.’
I take the paper from his fingers and roll my eyes. Trust him to pick one that goes against everything I’ve just said. ‘Not everyone takes it in the spirit it’s meant, and we just ignore those ones. It’s the really personal ones that we do something about if we can.’
He picks up a yellow piece of paper and reads it. ‘Nappies for her baby sister because Mummy keeps worrying about the price and Daddy goes to work all the time to pay for them.’
‘A very young interpretation of how expensive babies are. Parents don’t realise that children pick up on the things they’re worried about. As long as she’s put the full address, we can send them a small gift voucher for a babycare shop. I suspect “nappies” is a generalised term and they probably need a few things.’
‘And you just… knock on their doors, hand them a gift, and tell them their kid wished for it at your magical wishing well?’
‘No! That would spoil the magic. We send everything by post.’
‘You don’t leave things outside the door, knock, and hide to see people’s reactions?’ He sounds surprised.
‘I have done occasionally, if they live nearby, but I don’t want anyone to know who’s doing it and most people have got doorbell cams these days.’
‘That’s… nice. Surprisingly nice. People do realise it’s you though. Like I said, I’ve seen enough talk online about your magical wishing well. Some kids have put two and two together and told their parents.’
I shrug. ‘I deny all knowledge. No one can prove where it came from. Iwantpeople to think there’s a little magic in this old well. That’s the point – to send a bit of wonder into the world.’
‘I really am impressed by your dedication, you know. You put a lot of effort in to make people believe in that little bit of magic. It’s…’ His eyes find mine and he swallows hard and seems to lose the ending of the sentence.
‘Whimsical? Fanciful? Idealistic?’ I offer, knowing all too well the sorts of words he’d use to describe me.
‘Inspiring. And really, really lovely. I can’t remember the last time I met a person whocaredas much as you do.’ He says it quietly and looks away as he speaks, but his eyes quickly flick back up to my mouth when I answer.
‘Many people would say that’s not a good thing.’
‘Yeah, they would…’ He goes back to looking through the wishes without clarifying whether he’d agree or not.
He reads aloud from a pink bit of paper and then holds it up questioningly. ‘Amy, eight, 55 Fleethall Road, I wish for a new Barbie, my Barbie is lonely… Doesn’t sound quite as demanding as the Xbox lad?’
‘Ones like that need approaching with balance. She could be some spoilt millionaire’s daughter who gets a new Barbie every week and gets bored of them within a day, or she could be a normal eight-year-old who’s struggling and has only got Barbie to turn to. It could be a metaphor for her own loneliness. On balance, you can get Barbie dolls for under a tenner online and it could make a huge difference to her life. If nothing else, it could bring her a moment of joy, so it’s worth it.’ I furrow my eyebrows at the sceptical look on his face. ‘And if we look them up on Google Maps and the house is a mansion, then we’ll keep Barbie for the next kid.’
He laughs and picks up an orange piece of paper and his eyes go distant as he reads it. ‘I wish I had a dragon to fight off the bullies at school… That’s so sad, and yet so inventive. That’s exactly what I would’ve wished for when I was a kid.’
It’s not the first time he’s mentioned being bullied, and it intrigues me again. It’s not something I’d expect someone to be open about, and yet he is. As an adult, he seems like thelastperson who would ever be intimidated, and it makes me wonder if that’sbecauseof what happened in his childhood, and if that’s a big part of the front he’s obviously hiding behind. You never know what a person has been through in their lives, regardless of outward appearances. I want to ask him more about it, but he swallows hard and goes back to looking through the wishes. ‘Aww, this one’s sweet.I wish to come back here again. That’s…’ He swallows again and sounds a little bit emotional. ‘Can I keep this one? I think we should stick it up in the office as a reminder of why we’re doing this.’
I nod wordlessly as he tucks that one into his pocket too, alongside his own. ‘I’ve never had that with one of my properties before. Never imagined a child would like a place so much that they’d make a wish to return to it.’
‘What, in your multi-million-pound cinema complexes with new films showing every day and endless popcorn and doughnuts and diners, and scurrying up indoor walls and lobbing balls around, literally designed for comeback value? Kids must beg their parents to take them there every weekend.’
‘Yeah, but not like this.’ He pats the wish in his pocket. ‘That’s just entertainment. This is… heart. Of all the things a child could dream of wishing for, this little girl wished to come back here. That’s so charmingly simple that it’s special.’
