Page 9 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘Go on, write your wish down.’
‘I’m an adult, I don’t have wishes.’
I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow. ‘Everyone has wishes.’
‘Fine.’ He rolls his eyes, turns the Tablet of Gloom over so he can use the back as a rest, scribbles something on the paper and then holds it up to show me.
I wish Lissa would shut up about this wishing well nonsense.
‘That’s not funny.’ I crouch down and get out a blue piece of paper this time and hold it out to him again. ‘Come on. You have to do it properly or it won’t work.’
He goes to protest, but I muster the sternest look in my artillery that’s frightening enough to cut his protest off before it’s begun, learned from many years of getting boisterous kids to put down fragile exhibits without needing to say a word. ‘You want to get to know this museum, and this is a huge part of it. Indulge me. Your heart’s greatest desire. Write arealwish on this piece of paper, fold it up, and drop it down the well.’
He gives me a doubtful look, but reluctantly takes the blue paper, thinks for a moment before he writes something down, folds the paper, and pokes it through the grid so it floats down into the darkness of the well.
‘Happy?’ He hands the pen back.
I snatch it from him and put it back in the weatherproof box. ‘Rapturous.’
He laughs at my deadpan tone, and gives the wishing well a final mistrustful glance before turning to head back inside.
‘Right, let’s start down here,’ he says once I’ve caught up with him in the lobby where he’s already consulting the Tablet of Gloom again. ‘There’s a Princess Suite, a Prince Suite, and a Fairytale Homes hall?’
I beckon for him to follow me, and push open the door of the Princess Suite, a large hallway where most of the exhibits relating to our favourite fairytale main characters are gathered.
‘Wow.’ He lets out a low whistle. ‘Whatis going on in here?’
‘This is theTangledcorner.’ I point out the area just inside the door where the golden sun crest is on a custom-made shaped rug on the floor, and in the centre stands a mannequin wearing a pink dress and a floor-length wig of blonde plaited hair with flowers woven into it, and the mannequin is reaching up, releasing a paper lantern into an installation of floating lanterns that I’ve managed to wire together to look like they’re suspended in mid-air. I’ve got the golden glowing lanterns hanging from the beams on wire of differing lengths, so it looks like they’re floating all the way across the ceiling and flickering with LED tealights to create a magical atmosphere in the hall.
‘One of my sisters is a wonderful artist so the wall of theTangledcorner has been painted with a replica of what Rapunzel paints on the walls of her tower – her dream of herself watching the floating lights – and on the mannequin’s shoulder sits a clay model version of Pascal, her pet chameleon. And look, there’s a little speaker down here and if you press the button, it plays an instrumental version of “I See the Light”.’ I hold my hand out, encouraging him to press it, and when he does, the music fills the room and he leans closer to the speaker, looking like he’s either straining to hear it or he just doesn’t want to. ‘Cool, right?’
He gives me a blank shrug and I can’t help feeling disappointed. After his suggestions in the garden, I had a tiny bit of optimism that he wouldgetit, and maybe he’d have other suggestions for how we can pep this place up.Tangledis one of my favourite Disney movies and getting my littlest sister involved in creating this corner makes it even more special, and there’s a part of me that really wanted him to understand that.
‘And this is Moana with her boat.’ I go across to another area where there’s a traditional Polynesian canoe that had to be disassembled to get in the door and then reassembled once inside. The mannequin is dressed in Moana’s orange top and white skirt, there’s a soft toy version of her pet pig and chicken, and people can sit in the boat alongside her for a photo opportunity. I lift the necklace from the mannequin to show him and then open it up and take out the metallic green stone. ‘And this is her necklace. It’s a giant shell that opens and inside is the heart of Te Fiti, which she carries across the ocean to restore to the island.’
‘Ah, hang on. This “heart of Te Fiti” thing is mentioned in my reports.’ He consults the Tablet of Gloom again. ‘According to this, it’s been stolen six times so far this year.’
‘We don’t know that it’s been stolen, it’s gone missing. There’s a difference.’
He reaches over and lifts the green stone out of my hand and holds it up to the light. ‘Yes. The perfect size to “go missing” in the pockets of many little thieves and souvenir hunters.’
‘I make it out of oven-baked clay and paint it with metallic green paint. I have another two at home ready to replace whenever this one disappears. It’s a bit demoralising, but I value it being realistic, and Moana’s stone isn’t superglued into the necklace in the film.’
‘You’re enabling children to steal! And wasting your own time and money for the fun of it. There has to be a better solution to this.’
‘Well, I’m not putting up signs saying “don’t nick the heart of Te Fiti”, that’s openly telling my customers that I think the worst of them!’ I say, even though I’m touched by his protectiveness of the exhibits, and I like his ability to face problems head on. Heisright, but if there’s a better solution then I haven’t thought of it yet.
‘If they weren’t such immoral little thieves, you wouldn’t need to think the worst of them.’
‘Most of them are under seven years old! You can’t call children immoral thieves! What next? Strip searches upon leaving and metal detectors on the doors?’
‘Nowthereis a good idea.’ His face brightens and I’dliketo think he’s joking, but I don’t think he is.
‘And parents do bring stuff back sometimes. They’ve come in looking ashamed and guiltily handed me back something, saying, “I’m so sorry, my son walked out with this. I had no idea.”’
‘And those parents would be the exception, not the rule. Most people are not that decent. Most people would keep it as a trophy or it’s the parents themselves who steal it.’
‘Do you have such an exceptionally low opinion ofeveryoneor is it just people associated with this museum?’
