Page 10 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

‘Who is that insanely attractive man in your office?’

I groan, because there’s only one person Mickey can be referring to, and I was trying not to think about quite how attractive he is.

‘Do not tell me that is the evil squirrel with no soul?’

‘Gerbil,’ I correct her. We’re in the Fairytale Homes hall and she’s helping me rebuild the Hansel and Gretel-style gingerbread house after a child has started dismantling it and, judging by the teethmarks, tested it for edibility too.

‘If we’re going down the animal comparisons route, there’s something much more vulpine that I’d use, because he is a fox. A seriously hot Robin Hood-type fox. I thought you said he was horrible?’

‘Just because he’s nice looking doesn’t mean he’s not horrible.’

‘He’s quite Mark Darcy-ish, isn’t he?’ Mickey carries on like I haven’t spoken. ‘With the suity uptightness, and the tall, blue-eyed, dark-haired handsomeness.’

‘I doubt he even knows who Mark Darcy is. He doesn’t read fairytales, I can’t imagine he’d spare the time of day for a rom-com either.’

‘Even so, from what you’ve said, I was expecting a cross between Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas and a Gremlin who’s eaten after midnight. Is he single?’

‘I have absolutely no idea, and even less interest in finding out.’ I nudge Mickey to hold a clay-gingerbread wall in place while I slot a brick back in.

‘And yes, presumably he is, because he’s not wearing a ring, and no one would be stupid enough to put up with him.

He’s surgically attached to the Tablet of Gloom, and he’s a “no” guy, you know?

All he says is “no”. No, no, no, no, no.

Without thinking anything through or weighing up the merits, he just says no instantly. He can’t see the magic in anything.’

I try to ignore the prickle that I’m being a bit unfair when all Warren really did was spot problems I’ve been trying to ignore and be annoyingly sensible and blunter than I was ready for.

‘That’s a lot of information to have garnered when you only met him yesterday.’

‘And I would rather not have met him at all.’ I roll up a piece of air-drying clay and poke it into a hole between the gingerbread walls.

It’s not the first time we’ve had to fix this house, and it undoubtedly won’t be the last. Usually I tell myself that I don’t mind, but everything Warren said yesterday has got to me, and I’m suddenly wondering why parents can’t keep a closer eye on their little darlings when they’re walking along the Yellow Brick Road that winds throughout this room between a selection of fairytale houses.

Some are Lego models, some are garden sheds with added bits to make them into something special, and some are built entirely out of foam bricks and clay, like this one.

‘You haven’t seen the other ruby slipper, have you?

It’s gone missing from the witch’s legs under the Oz house. Again.’

Mickey shakes her head as she glues the gingerbread chimney back on. ‘Have you told him about the wedding?’

I stop what I’m doing long enough to give her a disbelieving look. ‘Why, on this green and verdant earth, would I tell him about the wedding?’

‘Because you need a date for it and he’s gorgeous?’

‘He’s also trying to destroy my business, enforce his opinions on me, and will undoubtedly end up evicting me anyway, after months of misery for both of us. He’s cynical and uptight and his entire existence revolves around business. He doesn’t understand what I’m trying to do here.’

‘Oooh, this could be just like Pocahontas! He could be your very own John Smith! You know, two different people from two different worlds, learning the ways of each other’s lives and to respect each other’s beliefs…’

‘Well, John Smith does get shot at the end, I could get behind that aspect…’

‘I knew this place was called Colours of the Wind for a reason!’

‘It’s called Colours of the Wind because I thought it was a good way of representing all the different colours and flavours of the fairytale world. It’s supposed to suggest there’s something for everyone.’

She squeaks and pulls her phone out. ‘I’m going to google him.’

‘Please don’t.’ I glue a line of clay gumdrops back on the roof, but she continues ignoring me.

Even though she’s loved-up with Ren herself, the appearance of an attractive man in my vicinity seems to have eroded either her common sense or her eardrums, because it feels like she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.

I hold the gumdrops in place for the glue to dry while scouting around the room for the missing sparkly red shoe.

We’ve got the pastel-coloured house from Up with a multitude of colourful balloons coming out of the chimney.

Behind a curtain of green vines, there’s Rapunzel’s hidden tower, and a small version of Dorothy’s house from The Wizard of Oz, complete with the Wicked Witch of the East’s legs – the famous black-and-white-striped stockings and the ruby slippers on the feet – ready for anyone who wants to try them on and click their heels together three times.

It would be nice if they put them back on the witch’s feet afterwards though.

‘Uh-oh,’ Mickey says, staring at her phone.

‘Good uh-oh or bad uh-oh?’

‘I don’t think there’s any such thing as a good uh-oh, Liss.’ She glances up at me and then looks back at the screen. ‘You know that library just outside Cheltenham?’

‘That gorgeous old building that had a campaign to save it all over social media? The one they knocked down and replaced with a “leisure complex” that looks like something from a futuristic sci-fi movie where AI has taken over the world?’

‘The Berrington Developments logo is all over that leisure complex website.’ She scrolls a bit further and then reads aloud. ‘Redevelopment project led by Warren Berrington.’

‘Oh.’ I feel my stomach sink and echo her earlier sentiment. ‘Uh-oh.’

‘How can any company be proud of doing that?’ She ponders her phone screen. ‘It’s everything that’s wrong with the world these days. Beautiful old buildings are being destroyed in exchange for eyesores like this.’

I can’t bring myself to tell her about the sketch I’ve seen of their broken Rubik’s Cube vision for this building.

‘And with him involved, I bet you have to pay a pretty penny to get into that leisure complex, whereas a library would’ve been free for everyone.

A hub for the community. Books for people who can’t afford to buy them.

A place for children who had nowhere else to go and for lonely pensioners to meet and natter.

’ I try to remember some of the other things that were written online in the campaign to save that library a couple of years ago, but the realisation has made an even larger pit of dread settle in my stomach.

That library had everything on its side.

A massive amount of support on social media.

Articles about the injustice of its proposed demolition in newspapers.

Even a spot on local TV about a sit-in protest they staged.

And it was all for nothing. None of it made any difference against the power of Berrington Developments.

The library was still torn down. So what hope do I have?

What can I possibly do to save my museum that would be bigger than their extensive community campaign that, ultimately, did nothing at all?

‘The library was structurally unsafe.’

I yelp in surprise as Warren appears in the doorway and my cheeks instantly burn red. How long has he been standing there? How much of that did he hear?

‘It was a matter of time before those “beautiful old bricks” you’re lamenting fell down and crushed one of the library patrons to death.

The library needed investment but couldn’t get it.

The council gave up on it and sold it to us.

It was too old and too weather-damaged to patch up well enough to pass inspections.

The electrics had started to fry where rain was leaking in.

No matter how much people loved it, they didn’t see the state the roofspace was in.

For someone who loves books so much, you should know that there are two sides to every story. And I believe you’re looking for this.’

He’s got a sardonic smile on his face and the missing ruby slipper dangling from his finger. Great. Not only does he overhear me berating him, but he finds the shoe I am unable to keep track of too.

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I know exactly what you meant, but not everything plays out in your stereotyped “corporate greed versus beloved community non-profit” narrative. Some old buildings are exactly that – old. Some businesses fail because they have no patrons. That library couldn’t get investment because it had been unused for years.

Not everything you read on social media is the whole truth. ’

‘I didn’t know about that,’ I admit, feeling a bit guilty that I may have misjudged this.

There was nothing in those online campaigns about the structural integrity of the library or the reason behind their lack of investment.

It seemed like a good-versus-evil fight where evil ended up winning.

Was I wrong not to consider that there might have been something more going on behind the scenes?

‘Did you try to cut their costs and save them too?’

‘Nope. You’re the first, that makes you special. You could be grateful.’

He walks along the Yellow Brick Road with the red shoe held out in front of him, and I meet him beside the scarecrow and take it. ‘And you could be grateful that no one’s rammed this shoe up your—’

He cuts me off by laughing hard, and I turn around and stomp over to Dorothy’s house and put the shoe back on the plastic legs that are sticking out from underneath it.

‘Those are damaged.’