Page 17 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

‘No, absolutely not, that would go against every privacy law in England. Bugger off!’

Mr Hastings, the local council leader, gives a much more polite response than I expected to our request to see the CCTV from the Ever After Street cameras.

Somehow Warren persuaded me to come along and present a united front, and we’ve accosted Mr Hastings in his office just before closing time, but our request has had a predictably unenthusiastic response.

‘Oh, come on, please?’ I try again in my most persuasive voice. ‘Someone has broken into the museum at least twice, and last time, they brought an extremely heavy pumpkin carriage out with them. Your cameras must have captured some part of that. We just want to know who and why.’

‘No one gets a look at our CCTV footage without a warrant, it would be a breach of privacy.’

Mr Hastings is standing firm on this one, and I get an idea. I point at Warren. ‘He’s the owner of the building! He has rights! He can subpoena you to show us that footage!’

‘No, I can’t!’ Warren holds both hands up, trying to stay out of this.

‘Miss Carisbrooke.’ Mr Hastings leans forward across his desk with his fingers steepled together.

‘Why would I do anything to help you? You’re a stone in my shoe, and that’s the nice way of describing you.

Every time I make any suggestion, any tiny little thing whatsoever, for the benefit of Ever After Street, you are at the helm of every protest. You are always the one riling up the other shopkeepers and making them think I’m serving some great injustice upon them rather than simply suggesting something that might be an advantage to us all.

Over the years, I have realised that it doesn’t actually matter what the council’s suggestions are, they will always be met with opposition from you.

You are an idealistic obstructionist and always will be. ’

‘I don’t like change,’ I mutter as embarrassment sends heat racing to my face.

I’m not really that bad, but if Mr Hastings and his fellow council cronies are suggesting something that would have a detrimental effect on someone’s business then I stand up for them, and I’m good at organising protests for things to stay exactly as they are.

If it ain’t broke, don’t make needless and convoluted suggestions to fix it.

Every time anything has changed in my life, it’s rarely been for the better.

After Mum died, our lives became unstable, and I put a huge amount of effort into keeping things stable and steady for my sisters.

Life is easier when it’s smooth and unchanging, even if it does leave you feeling a bit stuck sometimes.

‘I find this quite a turn of events that you now seek my help, and then I remember how you assisted Cleo Jordan in trying to outsmart me, and helped Raff and Franca over Christmas last year, and I don’t think it would be in my best interests to do anything you ask me to, do you?’

I huff because I will never regret standing up for my friends who were being unfairly targeted by the council, but right now, I feel belittled and I wish I had someone to stand up for me in return.

Warren steps forward. ‘Maybe you could have a look yourself and tell us if you’ve captured anything then?’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll be sure to pop it right at the top of my priority list, just behind clipping my toenails and taking the bins out.

’ He leans back in his chair and crosses his feet at the ankles, and I fight the urge to poke my tongue out at him.

He’s made so many of us jump through unnecessary hoops since he became council leader and it’s been perfectly reasonable to push back against his power sometimes.

‘Quite frankly, Miss Carisbrooke, I think Berrington Developments’ proposal for the museum site is impeccable.

It would be a huge asset to Ever After Street and bring in a vast number of jobs and new visitors, and there would be endless re-visit value too.

Your museum never changes. Once people have seen it, they’ve seen it.

An extra mannequin in a new costume occasionally doesn’t give them enough reason to come back.

But a cinema complex with a multitude of films showing every day, a pizzeria, diner, climbing, golf, bowling…

Now we’re talking! A reason for people to return every week and bring their families and friends.

In fact, I was quite opposed to Mr Berrington’s rescue plan, as Berrington Developments have the full support of the council.

Their proposal would do wonders for Ever After Street, and I have no doubt that this olive branch has only been offered in an attempt to allay the number of shopkeepers who would fight for you, given how often you appear here, hammering my door down to speak up on their behalves. ’

‘It’s not just an olive branch,’ Warren says. ‘Lissa’s got the first right of refusal to stay in place. The museum brings a lot to the street and surrounding area. She deserves a fair chance to defend her position there.’

I can almost hear the unspoken, ‘Even if it is pointless’ that should follow his words.

I appreciate his attempt at showing Mr Hastings a united front, but this does nothing but confirm the local council would be glad to get rid of me.

Usually I feel invisible, but this makes me feel seen in the worst way possible.

It makes me feel like the only person on my side is the one person who’s responsible for starting all this in the first place, and leaves me feeling alone and unimportant, and scared for what the future may bring.

I don’t know if I can trust Warren, but without him, there is no one who would be on board with saving me.

‘Either way, neither of you have a right to go poking your noses into our CCTV footage, and I’d like to get home before my dinner goes cold, so if you please…

’ He motions towards the door, and Warren and I meet each other’s eyes and simultaneously decide that we aren’t going to be able to wheedle anything further out of him tonight.

‘Thanks for your time.’ Warren remains the epitome of politeness as he holds the door open for me to go through first, which is nice because I can’t get out fast enough. I knew Mr Hastings didn’t like me – I didn’t expect him to be quite so gleeful to see the museum shut down.

Without either of us explicitly stating where we’re going, we head back towards the Ever After Street car park together, and I like the sense of not being alone, especially after our encounter with Mr Hastings has left me feeling small and browbeaten.

‘You’re very quiet,’ Warren observes.

‘Questioning every life choice I’ve ever made,’ I mutter, assuming he will find Mr Hastings’ clear dislike of me very helpful for the prospects of his cinema complex.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that stuffed-up cucumber with a puffed-up sense of his own importance. I’m sure you’ve had many vast and varied reasons for obstructing his wishes time and time again.’

‘We’ve all been forced to jump through hoops to fulfil some stupid requirement or another. He holds threats of eviction over anyone who doesn’t comply. He doesn’t care about the shopkeepers. He’s all about money and not what makes the street better.’

The noise of passing traffic is loud, and he’s leaning so close to hear me that he nearly walks into a lamppost. ‘Yeah, imagine a businessman who wanted to make money. What a bizarre concept.’

‘Hah hah,’ I grumble so he knows how utterly amusing he is, but in a strange way, I appreciate his support and roundabout way of trying to make me feel better.

Instead of saying anything else, he turns around so he’s facing me and walks backwards before continuing the conversation.

‘What are you doing? You’re going to fall over and crack your head open.’

‘I don’t mind staring death in the face,’ he says with a cheerful shrug.

‘It’s not death you’re looking at, it’s me. Walk normally, for goodness’ sake.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ His blue eyes are focusing so intently on my face that it makes my cheeks heat up and a tingle run down my spine, and I almost forget to worry about how likely he is to trip over his own feet.

He really is the strangest man. Businesslike to a worrying degree for 99 per cent of the time, and then he randomly turns into a naughty toddler who walks backwards in the street and gets abnormally excited about the prospect of sentient exhibits.

I’m lost in my analytical thoughts, so he says, ‘On the plus side, at least we’ve learned that Mr Hastings knows you really well. I’ve yet to hear better descriptive words for you than idealistic obstructionist.’

It sounds like he’s poking fun and I can’t help the snigger that escapes. ‘And I’ve yet to hear a better descriptive word for him than stuffed-up cucumber. You were spot on there.’

He laughs too, lines crinkling up around his eyes, and they distract me so much that I blurt out, ‘Is it really a rescue plan?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You. What you’re doing? He called it a rescue plan. I still don’t understand why you’d try to rescue my museum. There’s no conceivable way it will ever be more profitable than a cinema complex.’

‘Not everything’s about profit.’

I do an exaggerated double-take. ‘From the moment I met you, you’ve repeated endlessly that everything is about profit. Half the time, I think you understand the language “money” better than you understand English.’

His face heats up in an odd way, and he ducks his head and nearly overbalances when he steps on a grate covering a drain, but he still continues walking backwards.

‘I’m scratching an itch to do something different.

When I heard about your concept of a museum, it…

grabbed hold of me. Like I said, this would be the fifth cinema complex I’ve been involved with lately.

However, there’s only one of you. And having met you, seen your passion, seen Ever After Street as a whole, I think there’s a lot to be said for helping and upgrading what already exists.

I’d like to take the company in a more organic direction.

We have a reputation for being modern and innovative, and I’ve always liked that, but in recent years, I think I’ve become more mindful that the past isn’t always best knocked down and built over and there’s room for preservation as well as forward thinking. ’

Again, I find myself believing him even though I have no reason to. ‘I like that.’

‘It feels like the right thing for the company. In some situations, how we do things is not always the best approach, and there’s room for compromises and looking at things from different angles… but I’m not the boss, and the boss still needs some convincing.’

‘The boss is your mother?’

‘Indeed.’

Again, it’s an answer he could expand on, but he doesn’t, and we’re almost at the car park entrance so I don’t push it. You can’t force someone to reveal something they don’t want to share.

‘Where are you going back to? Where’s home?’ I ask instead.

‘I don’t know.’ We’ve reached his car and he stares at it blankly for a moment before shaking himself and giving the black roof a pat. ‘Where’s home to anybody?’

‘Somewhere they feel safe and free to be themselves?’ I suggest and he shrugs another blank shrug, and it strikes me as incredibly sad. If home doesn’t feel like home, then what have you got?

‘But I live in Bromsgrove, if that’s what you want to know,’ he says quickly, like he’s trying to circumvent how unexpectedly melancholy that answer became. ‘It’s about fifty miles away from here. My mother runs the office in London, but I’m usually based out of our Midlands office.’

‘Fifty miles?’ My eyes widen. ‘So you do a hundred-mile round trip every day just to make my life a misery?’

‘Yep.’ He looks up at me with that naughty toddler twinkle in his eyes again. ‘And it’s worth every penny in petrol costs.’

I laugh out loud and retreat towards my own car. ‘Thanks for the united front today.’

‘Thank you for…’ He trails off like he doesn’t have a clue what he was intending to thank me for and then shakes his head. ‘…the carriage-related workout this morning, I guess. See you tomorrow.’

I echo his words with a wave, and surprisingly, I feel a bit lighter as I get into my car and wait, watching in the wing mirror while he starts his engine and pulls out. For once, seeing him tomorrow doesn’t feel like an entirely bad thing.