Page 60 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘What if we displayed people’s collections? What if we did an exhibit of the things people collect?’ I say excitedly as the idea snowballs through my mind. ‘So many people must have these hidden collections at home, things that hardly anyone gets to see, so what if they’d let us share them with museum visitors? It would put the empty rooms upstairs to good use. We could put out a call for anyone who collects something and might be interested in having their collection on display here… It would be a great way to diversify and offer something other than stuff I can dream up, and it ties in to what Mr Hastings said about re-visit value. Once someone’s been here, they’ve been here. There aren’t enough new additions to make it worthwhile coming back very often, but this, this would be something ever-changing if we rotate the collections on display regularly… I know it doesn’t really fit the fairytale theme, but it could be quirky and unusual and would add a real point of interest, and give people something to talk about.’
‘What about that one weird guy who’s going to offer to bring in his collection of old toenail clippings and teeth of unknown origin? It could be like a museum of two halves – first floor, the hopes and dreams of all things fairytale and a magical wishing well. Second floor – nightmares for life, an urgent need for therapy, and a desperate need to unsee the cold, dead eyes of someone’s taxidermy roadkill collection.’
I smack at his arm even though he’s joking, andno oneis going to be displaying their toenail clippings or any form of dead thing on my watch, thank you very much.
‘It’s a great idea. It’ll take a long time to implement though. Assuming we get any responders, there will be logistics to sort out. Presumably, people would send us photos and we’d decide if it would be a good collection to display, and then we’d have to figure out if we’re going to help them transport it here, if we’re going to pay them for loaning it to us, how long is each one going to stay, how we’re going to make sure they’re protected, if the people themselves want to come and present their collections to visitors or just write the story behind them to display on a noticeboard or something, if it means we can increase the admission price…’
‘No.’ I hold out a warning finger, although maybe he’s got a point, especially with the increased rent to keep on top of, and the fact we’re going to run out of exhibits that can ‘go walkabouts’ pretty soon and either have to dream up new scenarios and re-use some of them, or try a new approach. ‘I didn’t think we could get it up and runningtonight, but it’s something to think about. We could start small – your Tamagotchis, and I bet Marnie wouldn’t mind showcasing her Ladybird books, and I could ask the other shopkeepers if anyone collects anything or knows someone who does. We could do a test run with people we know, to see how it goes and what niggles need to be worked out, like how to make sure things are safe and unable to come to any harm, and if the general public would actually be interested in seeing things that other people collect.’
When I look back down at him, he’s got a huge grin on his face and he’s shaking his head fondly, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. ‘What?’
‘Just trying to work out how anyone can get so overexcited while standing on a ladder andnotfall off.’
‘It’s a gift.’ I swing both arms out and do a bow, and then have to grab on fast as I nearly overbalance, making him cackle.
‘Seriously. There has never been a more perfect match between human and job. You weremadeto do this, Liss. I’m not going to let anyone take that away. I want you to know that. There won’t be any issues going forwards, I’m sure of that, but if there are, then they’re going to have to go through me, and I can be aviciousopponent when I need to be.’
‘When you’re not busy doodling, cutting out paper leaves, and collecting Tamagotchis?’ I make a joke out of it because of how uneasy his words make me feel, both because of imagining him in that role when in recent weeks, he’s been so happy to be away from work, and because every time he assures me there won’t be any issues, he sounds anything but sure.
He laughs that same uneasy laugh, clearly feeling the same discomfort, which is made even more obvious when he hands me up another leaf, silently urging me to getonwith the beanstalk andoffthe subject of him, his job, and the future of Colours of the Wind.
He stays next to me, steadying the ladder and passing up leaves, tendrils, and flowers, and threading wire hooks through our magic beans and handing them up to hang from the vines, and one hand splays on my lower back to steady me whenever I come down a step, and every time, I like the feeling of it there.
By the time we’ve finished, it’s been dark outside for hours and I can’t help wondering how it’s possible to lose an entire evening with someone and not even notice it passing.
Warren stretches with a tired groan as he pins the final paper tendril onto the bottom vines and stands back up to help me down from the lowest step of the ladder.
When he lets go of my hand, he gets his phone out to check the time. ‘It cannot be 10p.m.’
‘Did you have a lot to do tonight?’ I ask as I fold the stepladder and cross the room to return it to the storage cupboard.
‘Yeah, but none of it would have been as enjoyable as this, so I regret nothing.’ He stretches again and his stomach lets out a loud growl of hunger. ‘Apart from the fact I’mstarving. Do you want to…’ He hesitates, seeming to reconsider his next words before they come out. ‘Do you want to go out for a pizza or something? Just you and me, away from work? Like a practice run for the wedding date next month?’
I don’t know if he means arealdate or not, and how adorably red his cheeks have gone while asking makes me not want to push it, because I would doanythingjust so I don’t have to say goodnight to him yet. ‘I’d like that.’
‘I’d love that.’ He deliberately echoes what I said earlier, his smile so wide that his jawmustbe aching, especially when we’ve already laughed so much tonight.
‘And we can hang up some magic beans on the way,’ he adds. ‘Because I’m not ready for tonight to end yet.’
‘Me neither,’ I murmur.
‘Good.’ His tongue wets his lips and his eyes fall to my mouth again in a way that makes a warm flush run through my entire body. ‘Good.’
Somehow I never imagined that building a beanstalk would be quite so magical, but I do know one thing. Tonight, the butterflies aresoaring.
20
It’s the following week and Warren’s late for work. Recently, he’s always here before opening time and I’m ashamed of how much I look forward to sharing the first cup of tea of the day with him, and as the weeks tick past, I keep getting little twinges of thoughts about how, sooner or later, he’s going to have to go back to his normal job and he’s not going to be here every day. In two and a half months, I’ve gone from loudly objecting to his presence to wondering how I’m going to manage without it.
It’s a relief to finally catch sight of his dark hair coming up the steps towards the front door, and I can’t hide the wide grin as he comes in, wearing a zip-up jumper with panels of light blue and navy, and stops in the doorway, a huge smile on his face that matches mine. ‘I really hope that grin is because you’ve won the lottery and not just because you’re happy to see me.’
‘Can it be both?’ I joke to cover how much Ican’tstop smiling, and the sole reason is because simply seeing him tends to have that effect lately.
‘Is there anyone here yet?’ He looks around, trying to gauge how many visitors there might be, and when I shake my head, he continues. ‘Can you do me a favour and humour me for a minute?’
He goes over to the music player near the door and turns the volume of the instrumental Disney music up until it’s unpleasantly loud, and then comes over to the front desk and points to the far end of the lobby. ‘Can you go over there, face the wall, and say something quietly?’
I almost laugh at the absurdity of the request, but he asked me to humour him so I walk to the furthest end of the room while giving him a questioning look, and face the wall. ‘You’re a very strange man, Warren Berrington.’
