Page 47 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, and it makes me reconsider my certainty that he’s truly on my side. Anyone objecting to my museum being demolished has to be a good thing – at least for someone whowantsit saved, and I’m once again left wondering which side of the line Warren stands on.
16
Chaos. Chaos is how I’d describe the nights when the other Ever After Street shopkeepers descend on the museum en masse to put together all the wishes we’re able to grant, package them up in pretty parcels and get them ready for sending.
‘I still don’t see why we can’t deliver them in person.’ Warren’s comparing an address to a map on his phone. ‘Surely the point of doing this is toseethe joy it brings to a child who’s wished for something?’
‘We’d be caught,’ Franca says.
‘Everyone has doorbell cams and CCTV these days,’ Marnie cuts in. ‘You can’t walk up to someone’s door without them identifying you.’
‘So let them know,’ he replies. ‘Put the Ever After Street branding all over the boxes and let everyone know how above and beyond you all go to help kids who wish for something.’
‘That would defeat the object and spoil the magic, and none of us want it to become a way of getting freebies,’ Cleo says. ‘You’ve got to retain some level of cynicism. The wishing well has to be organic. We know there’s chatter online, we know people post about wishes coming true, but firstly, we can’t grant every wish because some are heartbreakingly impossible, like “I wish my mum didn’t have cancer” or “I wish my nan was still alive”, or things that can only exist in imaginations, like “I wish I was a fairy”, and we don’t want those kids to feel left out or like the wishing well’s magic isn’t strong enough to granttheirwishes, and secondly, we don’t want this to become somewhere that children post a wishlist of expensive items down the well and expect to get everything on it. The wishes we try to grant are sentimental, ones that mean something. It’s Lissa’s magic, this was all her idea, her doing, and we’re only along for the ride.’
‘She’s done so much for everyone on this street that we’ll all doanythingfor her.’ Mickey’s tone is vaguely threatening as she gives Warren a warning look. ‘No one messes with our fairytale museum and gets away with it.’
While it warms my heart and gives me goosebumps to hear that, he laughs and holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture, but it’s easy to see we’ve veered into uncomfortable territory too, and my best friend is one step away from baring her teeth at him like an angry guard dog.
As much as I appreciate her protectiveness, I also want her to like him.Ilike him, and part of the idea of getting him involved tonight was so everyone would give him a chance instead of writing him off as an evil property tycoon, like I did before I got to see behind his professional front.
‘Plus, people might be watching for us,’ Cleo says, inadvertently defusing the tension. ‘There’s a lot of interest in the exhibit escapades and who’s doing it, and it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that someone could be trying to catch us out.’ Cleo stops abruptly and glances at Warren, suddenly remembering that he’s here and he doesn’t know. She quickly corrects herself. ‘Them. I mean,them, the exhibits, obviously. Someone might be trying to catchthemout, and it would be suspicious forusto be caught… doing anything… in the vicinity.’
I have zero doubt that Warren knows exactly what’s going on with the exhibits without being explicitly told, and the small, silent smile that creeps across his face only serves to confirm my suspicions.
‘Messing about here overnight, it could put ideas in people’s heads, and we wouldn’t want them thinking that we have anything to do with it or that the exhibitsaren’tmoving of their own free will. All by themselves, no siree.’ Cleo hasn’t yet realised that she needs to stop digging.
‘I’m fielding a lot of questions. People keep asking about the spinning wheel that, er…’ Imogen glances at Warren. ‘…tormented me.’
‘I am too. Raff and I both had a journalist in the other day, asking about it all. I think he went to every shop,’ Franca says, and the others chorus an agreement.
‘No one told him anything.’ Marnie is packing books into a box for a child who wished for new books so she could be like Belle. ‘But this has taken on a life of its own. People are keen to uncover the real truth behind the moving exhibits.’
Theustruth. And that would be a Very Bad Thing. If it comes out thatweare the ones doing this, that it was me all along, it will spoil the magic entirely. I mean, parents have probably figured it out, but the excited little faces that have pointed out Lumière on the castle wall or jumped up and down when they’ve spotted Pascal hiding amongst the flowers, they’ll never believe in magic again if they discover it’s all been a con. A clever marketing ploy in an attempt to keep my museum relevant. Children wouldn’t understand things like rent increases and contract clauses, but they’d understand that I’d been fooling them all along. The others are right – wedoneed to be careful that no one realises what we’re up to.
‘These are the sweetest wishes. Listen to these.’ Warren is sitting at the counter with a rainbow of pieces of paper scattered in front of him and he reads some of them out loud.
I wish for a new husband for Mummy so she won’t be so sad since Daddy moved out.
I wish I could talk to animals.
I wish a wizard would turn my brother into a toad!
‘Iwish we could actually grant these ones, they’re so… innocent.’ He looks around, blinking like he’s trying to stave off emotions. ‘Exactly what childhoodshouldbe like.’
I see the curious looks pass between the other shopkeepers. Marnie raises an eyebrow at Cleo, and Franca gives Mickey a questioning look, but this is exactly why I wanted us all to get together. Warren isn’t as heartless as we thought he was, there’s a soft side there that’s really touched by the wishes, and I feel likethisis the real value behind Colours of the Wind, and I want both sides to come together and see that.
I’m packing up a cape for a little boy who wished to be a superhero, and Mickey’s sitting at a temporary table opposite me, putting a few mermaidy bits together from her shop for a little girl who wished she could be a mermaid.
It’s never much, usually things we either already have or can order from suppliers at a discount, or cobble together from our combined stock, but I’d like to think it can bring a moment of magic to a child’s day to find something they wished for delivered to their door, and it’s never been about the recognition but about the opportunity I saw with the wishing well to make a small difference in strangers’ lives.
Although tonight, I’m struggling to concentrate on the wishes because of how many times I keep looking at Warren. He was uneasy about the others all being here, but since we got started, there’s a wide grin that hasn’t left his face and a sparkle in his eyes every time they catch my gaze across the room, although most of the chatter seems to be going over his head, and he watches as an observer rather than getting involved in the conversations all around him.
Ali is folding a giant teddy bear into a box that is really too small for it, and Warren leans over and reads the wish that’s being fulfilled. ‘I wish for my teddy to get better. My brother set him on fire and Mum tried to fix him but he’s all black and smells of smoke. Wow. I’m suddenly extremely grateful to be an only child. Who knew children had so many problems with brothers?’
‘Can’t fix his teddy, but my grandson didn’t want this one, so maybe he’ll like it instead, and hopefully it will escape the wrath of any pyromaniac siblings this time. Either way, it’s a little thing that costs us nothing but the price of postage, and might make this little lad feel special and like he’s important to someone, somewhere. It’s not easy to feel like youmatterwhen you’re young and your parents are busy – working, taking care of the house, their own parents, running around after multiple kids, pets, and everything else families have to keep on top of. This has quickly become my favourite part of working on Ever After Street.’
A loud chorus of agreements sweeps through the lobby and between that and their earlier comments, my heart continues warming until my chest feels like it might explode. I knew they enjoyed doing this, but I’d neverreallyrealised that it matters to everyone else as much as it matters to me.
