Page 21 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

I stare at the Ever After Street social media in surprise.

Usually, I only check it once a day, but the marked increase in notifications this morning made me wonder if something was happening, and sure enough, the shared account that every shopkeeper has access to has posted a selection of photographs of my escaped exhibits.

There’s a picture of the glass slippers, all alone in the castle ballroom, a photo of Ali posing with the model of Remy wearing a matching chef’s hat, several photos of the spinning wheel – outside Imogen’s front door, outside her back door, hiding in the bushes at the side of her shop, and one of it in her office – and a few arty photos of the pumpkin carriage beside the river too.

These pictures were taken before they called us, they had to have been. Something is going on here. And I have a sudden deep suspicion that my fellow shopkeepers are up to their necks in it.

‘This is very interesting…’ Warren comes downstairs from the office, Tablet of Gloom in hand and the usual water bottle hanging from a finger.

‘Ali’s doing a thumbs up with Remy. He’s hardly got the angry “get your rat out of my kitchen right this second” attitude that he had when I saw him, has he? ’

‘And someone’s taken these photos all around Imogen’s shop and in her office. Not exactly the petrified “take an umbrella to fight it off” attitude that she had when I got there either…’

‘Intriguing…’ He goes to stroke his stubbled chin but stops short when he looks around. ‘There are people.’

‘There are,’ I confirm. It’s not a huge increase, but this morning has been slightly busier than other mornings lately, which is always a nice boost.

‘Have you read the comments?’ His fingers flick across his tablet screen.

I shake my head and quickly navigate there on my phone as well, and can’t hide the gasp at the ever-increasing number.

Aww, pumpkin carriages need love too!

The glass slippers in the ballroom by themselves are a metaphor for modern life!

brB, going to 1001 Nights for a dish cooked by Remy now!

That spinning wheel is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! How have they managed to make an inanimate object look so menacing?

Never bothered with going in the museum before, but we will next time we come! It looks excellent!

‘I didn’t even know we had that many followers who engage with our posts. Social media feels like shouting into the abyss most days, we only usually get “likes” from bots or advertisers.’

‘This is brilliant. It’s captured my imagination, I can see why other people are interested too.

I didn’t even think about putting it on social media…

’ He trails off and his blue eyes find mine again.

‘However, someone did, and this provides quite a clue. My money is on your friend who seemingly has free run of this place… and you really didn’t know about this? This hasn’t been your plan all along?’

‘I wish I was clever enough to come up with this, but I’m not that good at marketing. Can you cover at lunchtime? I’ll go and find out if Mickey knows anything.’

He takes a drink from his water bottle. ‘I can guarantee that she will.’

I think she might too, but I can’t believe she’d do anything like this without telling me.

* * *

Mickey’s shop is suspiciously empty. The front door is locked so no customers can get in, so I go round the back and find the back door unlocked, but my best friend is nowhere to be found.

Her shop backs onto a narrow path on the edge of the forest that surrounds this end of the street. All the shops on this side share the same back access route, and as I stand there for a moment, wondering where she could be, I hear voices coming from further along the path and I creep closer.

‘What next?’ a familiar voice says.

‘The spinning wheel was genius, but next time, we need to double-check how heavy something is before we volunteer to move it, I think I’m still sweating from dragging that pumpkin carriage out.’ That’s Darcy, the florist and castle gardener who’s also Marnie’s other half.

‘So the Notre Dame gargoyles are a no-go then, they’re solid stone.’ Mickey’s voice filters over the hedge surrounding Marnie’s bookshop garden.

‘Lumière and Cogsworth could get up to some mischief,’ Sadie suggests. ‘If we borrow some of your stock, Marnie, we could set up a scene of them reading Belle’s books.’

‘Or they could go for tea in The Wonderland Teapot.’ Cleo’s voice is quieter than the others, like she’s the only one aware that they could be overheard.

‘What about Aladdin’s lamp? That could get up to mischief… We could hang it from the Christmas Ever After arch so it looks like the genie is trying to fly off somewhere?’ That’s Franca speaking, who runs The Nutcracker Shop on the year-round festive offshoot of the street.

I clear my throat as I peek around the hedge. ‘Is this a private coordinated scheming or can anyone join in?’

A few screams of surprise fill the air, and I can’t help enjoying the little bit of vindication I feel at making them all jump so much. ‘So it’s all of you? You’re all using Mickey’s key and going into the museum at night to move things and take things?’

‘I can explain.’ Mickey holds up both hands. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds – we’re trying to help.’

‘We thought that if we could make it seem like the exhibits are coming to life – like those Night at the Museum films – then the museum would gain some interest and get the public talking, and then you’d be in a stronger position to fight back against those evil developers.

Today’s post was just the start. We’re going to—’ Marnie looks at me before amending.

‘We want to carry on, every night, if you’ll let us. ’

‘I’ve had quite a few visitors comment on the spinning wheel already this morning,’ Imogen ventures.

‘Ah, yes, the spinning wheel.’ I turn to her. ‘You deserve to be nominated for an Oscar over that. I thought you were terrified!’

‘Oh, thank you so much!’ She clearly misses my point. ‘Ali and I practised together all morning!’

I shake my head, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or be really, really annoyed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘We wanted you to believe in the magic that you help others believe in,’ Mickey says.

‘And I thought it would be best if you really were in the dark as well. If the evil gerbil is anywhere near as sharp as his suits, he’d figure out that you knew what was going on straight away.

It was better if you didn’t have anything to hide. ’

‘Yeah, but he’s invested in this now. He’s determined to figure it out. Even without knowing that Mickey has a key, he’s already guessed it was you lot. He knows I was on my way over to ask Mickey about it.’

‘Just tell him it wasn’t us.’

‘Tell him we took photos of the exhibits that had already escaped, but we had nothing to do with them escaping. This whole thing is to try and protect the museum from him and his rotten company, you can’t let him in on this.

’ That’s Bram, Cleo’s other half and the Mad Hatter from The Wonderland Teapot. ‘It would defeat the entire object.’

They’re right, of course they are, and they’re all bloody geniuses too. I could never in a gazillion years come up with something like this, but at the same time, excluding Warren and lying to him feels uncomfortably prickly.

Mickey knows me well enough to know I’m the world’s worst liar, and I kind of wish I’d heard that first voice over the fence and walked away, so I wouldn’t know, and I wouldn’t be part of the deception. Just like they said.

‘This has so much potential. People are already intrigued. We’ve had more “likes” on social media since that post went up than we have in months.

The more exhibits we can move, the more interest this will generate, and if there’s a lot of interest around the museum, then his company can’t waltz in and close it down, there would be a public outcry. ’ Sadie nods encouragingly.

‘I’m not sure outcry makes much difference to them. Look at that poor library near Cheltenham,’ Mickey mutters. ‘As long as he doesn’t know I have the spare key, he’ll never know.’

I shake my head because although he still doesn’t know that part, it’s unlikely to be long before he figures it out.

‘What happened to the Pocahontas and John Smith comparison? I thought he was a “Mark Darcy-esque fox who needed to be taught my culture”?’ I paraphrase what she said when she first saw him.

‘I don’t know, Liss. He’s staying here until the end of the year for what reason?

He’s given you nothing tangible. No set goal.

He says you need to prove the museum is worth saving, but he hasn’t told you how.

No “you need to earn such-and-such amount of money” or “gain X number of visitors”.

None of us understand what he’s getting out of this.

Without set goalposts, he can change them at any moment.

You were right to be suspicious in the first place and we all need to keep our guards up.

A company like that cannot be trusted, no matter how handsome the man they’ve sent as their liaison is. ’

It feels pointed, like she knows I’ve been softening towards Warren lately, especially since reading his wish last week.

‘Exactly that,’ Darcy agrees. ‘What is he really doing here? What’s his purpose? Because a man like that always has a motive, even if it’s well hidden.’

Are they right? It bolsters my doubts about Warren and how honest he’s been about the real reason for his presence here.

I know he’s trying to prove something to his mother-slash-boss, but he hasn’t elaborated much.

However, it makes me want to stick up for him too.

It might be well buried, but there’s something deep about him, and I don’t think he’s anywhere near as bad as I thought he was at first. He was openly touched by those wishes the other day, and I’m getting the sense that he’s enjoying the museum more than he expected to, but I have to remind myself that I’ve been friends with everyone in this garden for years.

I know they’re being protective because they want what’s best for me, whereas I’ve known Warren for a matter of weeks and I do feel like he’s hiding something.

‘Did you find his wish?’ I’m so lost in thought that it’s definitely not the first time Mickey’s asked.

I hesitate and then lie. ‘No. I tried, but he came in and caught me and then took it.’

I hate not being honest with my best friend, we share everything, but it doesn’t feel like something I should share with anyone.

Would Warren have written something so personal if he’d known I was going to read it?

Of course he wouldn’t, as shown by how quickly he took the piece of paper when he realised that I might.

No matter which side we’re on, I can’t tell my fellow shopkeepers that he finds life meaningless, only for it to be passed around Ever After Street like the juiciest gossip.

It would be different if it was something tangible, something we could actually get him, a way of proving the magic of the wishing well, but it isn’t, and his feelings aren’t mine to share.

Mickey makes a noise of frustration. ‘What a shame, it would have been so handy to have that. Oh, well. Mr Hastings told us he put on a good show?’

‘Mr Hastings knows?’ I say in disbelief.

‘We knew he’d see us on the CCTV, and we knew you’d go looking for it. We had to get him in on the plan,’ Cleo says. She knows Mr Hastings better than the rest of us and insists that he does have a nicer side, somewhere.

‘But he hates me. He’d be glad to get rid of me. And he’s already approved the Berrington Developments plans – he sounded like he couldn’t wait to visit their cinema complex!’

‘Ahh, but he’s learning to listen to what the shopkeepers in his area want and we all want you,’ Cleo assures me.

‘He had to get on our side or face the wrath of all of us. I think he’s more neutral than you think.

He’d like to see the museum doing better, because you’ve been a fixture here for so long.

Ever After Street wouldn’t be Ever After Street without you, Liss.

Even Mr Hastings can admit that. Who else would he have to call him out on his nonsense if you weren’t here? ’

‘Well, he did an absolutely sterling job of making me think I was the biggest thorn he’s ever had in his side and he couldn’t wait to see the back of me.

And you lot. You’re all wasting your lives running shops here when you should clearly all be auditioning for roles in Coronation Street.

I can’t believe you guys did this, and at the same time, of course you did.

Who else would have come up with something so astoundingly brilliant? ’

Mickey is the first to come over and give me a hug. ‘And now you’re involved so we have your imagination too. The possibilities are endless.’

I don’t feel as excited as I should. The possibilities are endless, and I can see where they’re coming from and that their intentions are nothing but good, but the prospect of going back to the museum and telling Warren it was nothing to do with them weighs heavy.

He’s going to know I’m lying, and the ease that’s been building between us is going to be eroded.

But they are right. I trust my friends with my whole heart, but I have zero idea of whether I can trust him.

There is no concrete goal. What would he consider to be ‘proof’ that the museum is worth saving?

What if we get to the end of the year and he says I haven’t done enough without ever defining what ‘enough’ is?

Since he arrived, I’ve made peace with him being here.

I know he’s looking at the budget, at things that can be improved here and cut there and streamlined everywhere, and I’ve tried to embrace that – believing him to be my best chance to save Colours of the Wind, but what if it’s the biggest mistake I’ve made?

What if joining the others and really embracing this escaped exhibits idea could give me a leg to stand on and might be my way of saving my museum – with or without him?