Page 39 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘You have four younger sisters?’ he asks, but before I can answer, he adds, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t asked about this before, but I try not to get personal when it comes to work.’
I tilt my head to the side, unintentionally mirroring the way he does because he’s impossible to work out sometimes, and I feel like I’m constantly one step behind when it comes to getting a handle on who heisas a person. This seems like yet another chink out of his professional front, a crevice showing a glimpse of the man underneath. ‘What’s different tonight?’
‘We’re sharing a sleeping bag, eating the worst crisps in existence, and hoping to catch either a ghost or anthropomorphic museum exhibits in the act of leaving under their own power. We passed getting personal long ago.’
It makes me laugh and I take another vile crisp to disguise how much I appreciate his directness.
‘I’m the oldest of five girls,’ I say eventually. ‘So when I accidentally stepped into the role our mum left behind… no one noticed. I was old enough to cook and feed myself and the others. I was old enough to go to the shops and buy food when Dad couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t need help getting dressed and tying shoelaces, I didn’t need to be herded into the car for school runs, and I ended up being… overlooked. No one ever realised that I had taken on the role of parent. My youngest sister doesn’t remember Mum at all, she just remembers me doing all the parental things that Dad struggled to do. Everyone worried for the younger ones, but I was old enough to cope, and no one ever seemed to worry about whether Iwascoping or not. No one ever saw how much I was doing.’ I stop myself abruptly when I realise how much has just spilled out. All of us Carisbrooke girls tend to brush our younger years under the carpet and only reminisce when we all get together and have too much wine at Christmas, and I had no intention of sharing something so personal with Warren, but thereissomething about talking to someone else who’s a member of the club that no one wants to be part of, a feeling that he’d understand even though he doesn’t have siblings himself.
He sucks in a breath and nods slowly, understanding written on his face. ‘So you grew up feeling invisible and you still do?’
I intend to snap something at him for calling me a psychologist earlier, but it cuts right through my bristling and leaves me speechless for a moment. No one haseverput it into such simple terms before, and yet I feel those words inside my heart. Ididgrow up feeling like I was working hard in the background, and no one ever acknowledged that, and that’s followed me into adult life. I stay in the background, making sure I don’t tread on anyone’s toes, because I’m so used to feeling invisible that now I don’t know what I’d do if anyonedidnotice me.
‘I get it.’ He’s turned onto his side and is propped up on one elbow facing me, leaning his head in his hand. ‘I really related when you said that. Sometimes, I feel like I’m invisible too. I think most people have that existential crisis at some point. Why do we keep going, keep trying so hard, working so hard, if it never makes any impression on anyone else’s life? Sometimes I feel like no one would notice if I didn’t show up for work tomorrow.’
I blink in surprise. It feels like not just a chink in his professional armour, but like a huge chunk has just fallen out of it.
‘How could you ever be invisible?’ I’m shaking my head in disbelief and not concentrating on what I’m saying. ‘You’re tall, gorgeous, well-dressed, funny, clever, obviously good at your job…’
‘Gorgeous?’ Both of his eyebrows shoot up so fast that they almost merge with his hairline.
Oh, heck, did I say that out loud? I cringe at myself. ‘I didn’t mean gorgeous. I meant… um… I must’ve got my G words muddled up. I meant gruesome, that’s it!’
He laughs so hard that the elbow he’s leaning on gives way and he rolls over onto his back and meets my eyes upside down. ‘None of that’s me. Well, the height, I guess, I can’t do much to change that, but I’m just…’ He looks away, his eyes swivelling towards the ceiling as he rolls his head back and forth, like he doesn’t know what to say. ‘Half the time, I feel like I’m still just a kid who made a promise to his dying father to be strong and look after his mum, and I spend my life living in fear that someone will realise I’m not a forty-one-year-old businessman at all, but still a child trying to find his way in the world and keep everyone happy.’
Now,thatI understand. ‘When you lose a part of your childhood, there’s a part of you that’s always searching for a way to get it back.’
‘What do you do if you reach forty-one and you still haven’t found it?’
‘It’s never too late.’ I chew on my lip as I say it because I’m still expecting him to ridicule me or make fun in some way.
‘Is thatwhyyou’re so dedicated to childhood magic?’
‘I guess so. I think every child deserves to feel wonder and to believe in magic. I was lucky because I was old enough to spend my younger years with my mum. I have those memories that my sisters missed out on. I remember the fairytales she read to me, the dandelion clocks she made wishes on, the toadstools she claimed were fairies’ houses, the way she dragged me outside to look for Santa’s sleigheveryChristmas Eve, even when I was far, far past the age of believing in Santa. I didn’t realise how special those moments were at the time. And if I can do something that helps adults feel like that again too, then that’s my goal. I wanted this place to be great for kids, yes, but I also wanted adults to come in and be able to momentarily forget that theyareadults. I lost that, and I’ve been trying to find it again, and granting wishes, trying to make children’s lives better than mine was, is as close as I’ve come so far.’
‘That is…’ He pushes himself back up onto his elbow so he’s facing me. ‘…probably the nicest concept I’ve ever heard. You have no idea how many times in my adult life that I’ve wished I wasn’t an adult and wanted a better adult to come along and tell me what to do.’
‘Same.’ I smile at him and the grin he gives me in return causes lines to crinkle around his eyes and makes him look completely unguarded for once.
After a moment, he schools his smile and looks me in the eyes again. ‘And you’re the brightest person I’ve ever met. No one could evernotsee you.’
‘That’s just?—’
‘And I don’t mean the hair.’ He somehow knew exactly what I was going to say, and he picks up his stylus pen and uses it to reach over and lift a half-pink and half-purple curly lock of my hair and hold it up, and I appreciate him understanding that too. Colourful hair gives an impression of confidence, but sometimes it’s masking the exact opposite.
‘Everything about you makes you the most memorable person I’ve ever met. A real force of nature, and I wish I had something I cared about as much as you care about this place. It’s inspiring.’
Something in my chest catches and I push out a stuttery breath because it sounds like one of the most unfiltered things he’s ever said.
His eyes are locked on mine, and I forget where we are, I forgetwhowe are, and everything around us evaporates apart from the desire to get closer to him, and in my head, I canseehow easy it would be to lean forwards, inhale the subtle leather scent of his aftershave that I keep getting hints of, to hold his face in my hand, run my fingers over his dark stubble, and…
He clears his throat and drops the curl of my hair with a shaky huff of breath, and then flops down onto his back again, almost throwing the stylus pen back towards the Tablet of Gloom likeitwas solely responsible for whatever just happened, and I feel like someone’s yanked the dustsheet out from under me and left me sitting here wondering whatdidhappen.
Unexplained creaks of the museum’s quirky floorboards fill the awkward silence, and eventually I swallow hard. ‘I’d notice. If you didn’t show up for work, I would notice.’
‘Yeah,now, because I’m here every day and I’ve taken over your office space, and if I didn’t show up, you’d probably do a dance of joy and be like, “Oh, thank God he’s not here today!” but before?’
‘We’d never met before. You can’t notice someone you don’t know.’
