Page 41 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘At least you didn’t see me cry at the end ofBeauty and the Beast.’
I don’t mean to snort, but I can’t help it. ‘You did not. If you did, you wouldn’t openly admit it.’
‘I’ve never been so captivated in my life. How had I not seen that before? When I next see my mother, I’m going to have a go at her for withholding Disney movies from my childhood.’ He leans forward in his seat and whispers the next bit like he’s worried someone might overhear. ‘And when I’d recovered my manly dignity after that, I watchedPocahontasbecause I wanted to understand the connection to the museum. And now I want a racoon and a hummingbird as friends.’
It’s a good job I hadn’t just taken a sip of coffee because I would’ve spat it halfway across the kitchen with the unexpected laugh. ‘You are normal after all then, because trust me, no one haseverwatchedPocahontasandnotwanted a greedy racoon friend and to go paddling in some nearby river and talk to a few trees afterwards.’
He laughs. ‘I know there are cultural appropriation issues and historical inaccuracies with it, but I liked the message. Two people who are very different can learn to live alongside each other, learn something from aspects of each other’s lives, and truly come to respect each other.’
It’s a metaphor that I’m too tired to fully untangle, but I like what he’s hinting at, and we sit opposite each other, smiling, until his phone buzzes and he gives it a cursory glance, and then looks between me and the Tablet of Gloom on the table in front of him.
‘Okay, riddle me this.’ He sits forward again, turns the tablet screen on, and spins it around to face me. ‘How?’
On the screen is a post from Ever After Street’s social media, showing a photo of the Magic Carpet dangling from a tree, and the caption reads, ‘Crash landing!’
I laugh out loud. The girls arebrilliantto think of that. I couldn’t imagine what they were going to do with that rug when I posted it through the bathroom window last night, but this is hilariously ingenious.
‘Oh, that is amaz—’ I quickly swallow back my gleefulness when I glance up at his definitely-not-laughing face and force a frown to appear. ‘Well, if it broke out by itself, it didn’t get very far, that tree is only on the edge of woods, just beyond the carousel.’
He reaches over to tap the screen. ‘That carpet was there last night, I remember seeing it when I checked. And I didn’t spot anything. Not a movement. No one – and nothing – came or went last night, I’m sure of that. So…how?’
He sounds completely and utterly defeated, but rather than annoyed or curious, he sounds like he’s just fed up now, and it makes that guilt race through my veins again. Hemustknow, and he’swaitingfor me to be honest, and I want to, but the others are right. Without him and his company, there would be no need for moving exhibits and sneaky Magic Carpet jiggery-pokery in the first place, and I can’t let him in on the one thing that’s making a difference to my chances. Mickey and Cleo went hugely out of their way for me last night. I can’t return the favour by betraying what they’ve asked me to do –nottell him.
‘We were distracted for a while,’ I stutter, trying to find the right words. ‘Maybe it waited until we were both asleep and then snuck out.’
‘Yeah, I think it’sreallylikely that a Magic Carpet was waiting in the wings all night, floating around, watching us, eager for a chance to make its escape.’
‘Thank you for making the Magic Carpet sound like something from a horror movie. That’s a really disturbing thought.’ I force out a laugh, going for redirection instead of anything close to the truth.
His eyes bore into me from across the table, and Iknowhe knows, but I can’t bring myself to spit it out. I might have enjoyed getting to know him better, but my museum is never going to bring in more revenue than a cinema complex, and I can’t shake the feeling that, sooner or later, someone’s going to pull the rug right out from under me and, somehow,he’sgoing to be responsible. To even stand a chance, I have to come up with the rent thathe’sincreased, and I can’t let him in on something that might help me to raise it. I keep my lips sealed and force a nonchalant sip of coffee down under the scrutiny of those intense blue eyes.
‘You know what, I give up.’ Eventually he sits back and shoves a hand through his hair with a sigh. ‘Whoeveris doingwhateverthey’re doing, they’re actually helping us. The comments on this are hysterical. People are really responding to the “escaped exhibits” angle, there are independent social media posts asking for theories about what’s going on, and we’ve seen an increase in visitors. This is exactly what we need, and we can tap into this ourselves with that promo video I mentioned last night. So that’s it. No more stakeouts, no more trying to catch someone out. No more questioning. Let them get on with it.’ He meets my eyes again. ‘If you could pass that message on to the “sentient exhibits” that would be great.’
He does the air quotes, leaving me in no doubt that he knows full well the Magic Carpet didn’t escape by itself, and I must admit to feeling a sting of disappointment at the thought of no more stakeouts. I could do without the whole balancing one leg on the toilet cistern and poking valuable items through a very small window aspect, but everything else about last night was pretty good. I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to doing it again, even with the offensive crisps, the bad night’s sleep, and the aches this morning.
He sits back in the chair, rubbing his fingers over his dark, unkempt stubble thoughtfully, but whatever he’s thinking about, he doesn’t share it with me. Eventually he downs the last of his coffee, shudders because it was almost definitely cold by now, and stands up. ‘I’m going back to the car to change so I look vaguely presentable for work today.’
‘If you were up most of the night, don’t you need to sleep?’
‘Nah, I’ll catch up tonight. However, coffee.’
I laugh at how he uses the word like it’s the all-encompassing answer to every problem.
‘I need something stronger than this instant stuff. I’ll bring you one back too.’
‘Thanks. Although after those crisps, I’m not sure I trust you to be sent out for supplies ever again.’
It looks like the laugh takes him by surprise and he hesitates for a moment, leaning one hand on the table, looking like he wants to say something, but again, he doesn’t, and I can see him chewing the inside of his cheek as he looks at me.
The moment passes and he shakes his head and pushes himself off the table and picks up the Tablet of Gloom and his water bottle as he walks out. ‘Luckily I’m much better at coffee than I am at snack choices.’
I get my phone out and open the Ever After Street social media account and scroll to the comments.
Don’t drink and fly!
One-too-many Arabian Nights!
A whole new world… of pain!
