Page 12 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

The following day, when Warren comes down the stairs, there’s a mum at the front desk trying to wrangle a ten-pound note out of her purse while simultaneously attempting to keep her excitable young boy out of trouble.

He’s around four years old, and she’s got a grip on his wrist but he’s bouncing and wriggling and jumping up and down so hard that it shakes coins out of her purse and they clatter onto the smooth wood of the reception desk.

It doesn’t take long before he squirms out of her grasp and makes a beeline for the Beauty and the Beast area in the lobby with a cry of, ‘Beasty! Rosey!’

‘It’s his favourite film,’ the mum explains, but he’s bounded up to the enchanted rose and lifted the cloche off it before she’s finished paying, and there’s a scattering of foam petals as they all fall off simultaneously under his eager little hands. ‘Oh, no, I’m so sorr—’

Surprisingly, Warren cuts off the mum’s apology. ‘It’s okay, allow me.’

He puts his water bottle down on the front desk and strides after the little lad and I’m wondering how to shout after him that he can’t discipline someone else’s child without worrying the mum, but I’m even more surprised when he crouches down beside the little boy and asks him what he likes most about Beauty and the Beast while surreptitiously scooping up the fallen red petals before the lad treads on them.

The mum apologises again as she pays their entrance fee while her son babbles excitedly at Warren, who’s listening intently while looking like he hasn’t understood a word.

‘Don’t worry about it, the petals are meant to come off,’ I reassure her as she thanks us both and goes over to take a firmer grip of her son’s hand and they start walking around the Prince Suite.

I go over to the enchanted rose where Warren has laid the petals out on the table and is looking confused as he tries to work out how they fit back into place.

‘That was very mellow of you. I half-expected you to get a cane out and punish him.’ The stem of the rose is made of wire that twists around and I start sliding the inner petals back on.

‘Am I really that much of a Neanderthal?’

‘Not so much Neanderthal, but… there’s a bit of a “strict Victorian” vibe about you. The Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang springs to mind.’

He lets out a loud laugh but doesn’t seem offended. Instead, he holds his hands up and puts the petal he was holding back down. ‘I give up. I don’t have the coordination and the delicate touch you obviously have.’

I put this rose back together multiple times a day, so I carry on with something I’ve done so many times, I could do it blindfolded, and try not to think about the way he’s stayed crouching and how those blue eyes are intently watching my hands work.

I suspend the final petals on fishing line so it looks like they’re floating downwards, turn the glowing fairylights back on, and then stand back and replace the glass cloche.

‘Is it worth it?’ His voice sounds distant and when I glance over, there’s a faraway look in his eyes.

‘Every moment. Especially when you see a reaction like that little boy’s. A lot of kids grow up with no wonder in their lives, and being part of bringing that, even for a moment… that’s what makes it worth it. Even if I do have to put fallen petals back several times a day.’

He nods and it takes a moment for the distant look to disappear as he shakes his head. ‘And you really made that yourself?’

‘I bought the cloche. The rose is just wire, fairylights, and repurposed petals from other artificial roses. More assembled than made.’

‘I admire your dedication, I can’t deny that.’ He stands up with a groan and both his hands go to his lower back.

‘Ugh, that office,’ he complains as we both go back to the main desk, listening to the sounds of delight as the mum and little boy enjoy themselves in the halls. ‘But you knew that, of course. It’s not an office at all – it’s a bloody uncomfortable chair at a bloody uncomfortable table.’

‘Well, if I’d known you were coming, I’d have ensured it was a lot less comfortable for your arrival. A sort of “bed of nails over hot coals” type of desk.’

His laugh has taken on a sarcastic tone again. ‘I could always come and sit down here with you and appreciate the silence.’

‘There’s instrumental Disney music playing all the time.’ I point towards a music player in one of my nooks, not far from the main doors, and next to Thumbelina’s tiny bed in a walnut shell.

He glances at it and tilts his head, but the look on his face remains blank.

‘Oh, right, that music. Yeah, of course.’ He does a vague handwave when I look at him expectantly.

Maybe he just doesn’t recognise any Disney songs whatsoever.

‘I didn’t mean that – I meant where I’ll be uninterrupted by anyone because there aren’t any customers. ’

‘There are customers.’

‘I’ve seen two since I got here, and one of them broke something.’

‘He was adorable, and he didn’t break it. The petals detach on purpose. And just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean customers aren’t here.’

‘Oh, so invisible customers are a thing now, are they? Jolly good, all your business woes are solved.’ He hooks his shiny shoe around the leg of the stool I was about to sit down on and pulls it out from under me and over to himself.

‘I meant you’ve been upstairs. You haven’t seen every coming and going.’ I give him a look as he sits down on my stool, and I don’t add that, admittedly, it has been a slow day today, like so many other days recently.

‘To be fair, even down here, I’d be interrupted less by random people inviting themselves to get a cup of tea and six biscuits.’

‘Mickey is not a random person. Half the stuff in this museum wouldn’t exist without her.

She runs The Mermaid’s Treasure Trove over the road and she always picks up anything she knows will fit in here or that I can make something of.

Pretty much everything in Ariel’s cave came from unwanted stock in her shop.

She can have as many cups of tea and biscuits as she likes. ’

Talking of Mickey brings our encounter yesterday back into sharp focus when I’d been trying to forget all about it, and I force myself to face it head on.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday. That was unprofessional of me.

I’m not used to—’ I stop myself and rethink.

‘No, actually, there’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have been having a private discussion in a public place, and I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean for you to overhear that.’

He nods slowly, bending forwards on the front desk, almost leaning around me so he can see my face from where he’s sitting and I’m still standing.

‘Thank you for that. I appreciate the directness. I guess we can agree that I could have made a better first impression than barging in unannounced like that. I felt the need to appear in control of the situation, and I deserved your assessment of me.’

I’m surprised by how much I appreciate his directness too, and his open admission that maybe he isn’t as unflappable as he seemed at first.

‘And look…’ He splays his hands out and places them both on the desk. ‘No Tablet of Gloom. And no surgery necessary to remove it. Just thought you might like to see proof.’

I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh, and I appreciate that he can make a joke out of what he heard yesterday rather than making me feel bad about it. It really wasn’t my most professional moment.

Another customer comes in and pays the single person’s entrance fee, and I can feel Warren’s eyes on me as I put her money in the till and give her quick directions around the building.

‘I’m not your enemy,’ Warren says gently when we’re alone again.

‘You want to keep your museum – I’m here because I believe there could be merit in keeping your museum, but for any business to stay in business, they need to earn more than they pay out.

Looking at your accounting, I understand that’s a foreign concept to you, but…

’ He trails off when I frown at him. ‘Look, I’m not completely heartless.

I can see what this place means to you and that you weren’t expecting this takeover to happen, but I firmly believe that we can find a middle-ground solution that works for both of us.

You get to stay here, and I get to prove to my mother that my ideas aren’t always terrible ones, and she can retire safe in the knowledge that I won’t run our family company straight into the ground. ’

I knew there was something more personal behind his initial explanation for his interest here, and I appreciate his honesty and the hint at something much deeper going on behind the scenes, and the fact that nothing I’ve said so far has deterred him.

I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming host or receptive in any way to his plans, but there is still the unspoken truth that makes it difficult to trust him – what plans does he have for this place for it to feasibly compete with a multi-million cinema and entertainment complex?

He doesn’t understand a love of fairytales and the magic of seeing an item in real life that you thought only existed in a storybook.

He thinks installing a human mermaid to swim around in the lobby is the way forwards, and doesn’t realise that the strength of this place is in small things that people can pick up and hold and touch, even if there’s a trade-off that things might get damaged.

It’s not about spectacles, it’s about making things that don’t exist in real life seem like they do.

‘There’s a gap between ticking over and thriving. I want to bridge that gap.’

‘Why?’