Page 52 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum
‘Oh, come on, there’s no way we have to go to the rehearsal dinner,’ I moan to Mickey as she forces me to get up off the sofa, where I’ve spent the remainder of the Christmas holidays since my sisters went home, stuffing my face with chocolate and watching sappy films, and now it’s the thirtieth of December, and Sadie and Witt are insisting we all join them for a rehearsal dinner before their big day tomorrow.
‘It’s not like we’re family who need to meet and socialise with other family.
I’d rather just stay here. One romance-based outing full of happy couples this week will be quite enough. ’
‘We’re a kind of family. And it’s a nice gesture, they want to get everyone together and say thank you before the formality of the big day. Besides, they’re not the only ones with something to celebrate this week. Everyone wants to share in your good news too.’
‘We haven’t got the results of Historic England’s decision yet. They might say no.’
‘They won’t,’ she says cheerfully. ‘You know that’s why Warren mentioned the well weeks ago. He must’ve guessed what was going to happen and had it as a back-up plan, which he couldn’t overtly tell us without betraying his company.’
‘I thought you hated him.’
‘I do, but keeping my best friend working opposite me makes it marginally easier to un-hate him.’
‘I doubt either of us are ever going to see him again,’ I mutter, trying to ignore the gaping hole that feels like it’s opened in my chest with that thought.
So many times this week, with the museum closed for the holidays and nothing to occupy my time, my fingers have hovered over his name in my phone, wondering if I should send him a quick text, an innocent thank you for the shove in the right direction, but nothing changes his actions while he was here, and I’ve stopped myself giving in to the temptation.
‘No, I doubt it, but at least it didn’t end on quite such a sour note, hmm?’
‘You are disturbingly cheerful today,’ I mutter as I go upstairs to change into my red off-the-shoulder tea dress, knowing full well that I was never going to wriggle out of it, no matter how hard I tried.
The thought of being surrounded by sickeningly loved-up couples for the next few hours makes me want to hide on the sofa forever, and so does the fact that every single one of them knows what happened to my mandatory plus one, and why I’m going to be the only guest on my own.
It’s 5 p.m. when Mickey, her partner Ren, his teenage daughter Ava and I walk through the Full Moon Forest and along the stone walkway to the castle gates.
It’s dark, but the way is lit by streetlamps, and the trees are bare for winter now, their decaying leaves gathered at the edges of the pathways like they’ve been pushed aside to make way for the guests that will be arriving tomorrow.
‘Hello!’ Sadie opens the door wearing jogging bottoms and a sauce-splashed top, with her hair tied back in a bandana and a panicked look on her face.
‘Oh, God, it’s all gone wrong. We’ve got caterers for the big day and I stupidly thought I could cook for everyone tonight, and underestimated both my timings and my cooking ability.
Nothing’s ready, nothing’s set up, and you lot all look lovely and refined and not frazzled at all, so you can help me! ’
She hauls us all inside and shuts the cold December night out quickly, and starts barking instructions. ‘Mick, set the table! Ren, Ava, you can get the plates from the kitchen! Lissa, chairs! They’re stacked in that little terrace! Just outside the patio doors! Quick, go, go, go!’
Before I’ve had a chance to think, I’m hurried towards a set of glass doors and bundled out into a small garden area, grass and paving stones surrounded by neatly trimmed hedgerow with fairylights winding through it, empty planters that would be full of flowers in the summer, a couple of tables, and… absolutely no chairs.
I turn around to go back in because it’s obviously the wrong place, but there’s a movement in the shadows. ‘Hi.’
The scream I let out is not so much a yelp of surprise as a blood-curdling shriek when a familiar silhouette steps forward and I nearly fall over my own feet as I scramble backwards.
‘What are you doing here?’ I snap, straightening myself out and trying to pretend that my heart isn’t pounding at a hundred miles an hour, and not just from the shock, but because of who it is.
‘I’ve been invited to a wedding but they won’t let me in without a plus one. Apparently they’re mandatory.’ Warren’s fiddling with a large brown envelope held between both his hands.
‘So you thought skulking by a hedge and scaring me half to death would be the best approach?’
‘I thought you might run if you saw me.’
‘And there’s a very good reason for that, isn’t there?
’ I turn around and try to open the patio doors I just came through, but they’re locked from the inside, and I quickly realise that this is not a coincidence.
I haven’t been sent out here to gather chairs for the dinner.
Mickey’s suspicious cheerfulness earlier.
Sadie’s overacting. I know my Ever After Street friends well enough to know a carefully planned conspiracy when I see one.
Between them, they’ve conspired to get me and Warren out here together, and I have a feeling they’re not going to let either of us back inside for a while yet.
‘So…’ I turn around to face Warren and try not to think about how good he looks in the black cable-knit winter jumper he’s wearing.
It’s got subtle snowflakes woven throughout it in silver thread, although there are dark circles under his eyes and his face looks pinched with worry in a way that still makes me want to cup his jaw and smooth the lines away.
‘Have you been sent to help with the imaginary chairs as well?’
‘No, I was waiting for you. This was my fault. I knew they were going to come up with something to send you out here, but no one could have foreseen imaginary chairs.’
It makes me want to snort and he probably hears the burble as I try to hold it back.
‘Witt really did invite me. We’ve met to discuss the well a few times, and we hit it off. The guy who struggles to speak with his stutter and the guy who can’t hear, we’re a match made in heaven, right?’
I press my lips together and try not to smile.
He has no right to be this disarming when I’m trying to hold onto my rightful anger.
‘That’s how he knew exactly what to put on those forms, isn’t it?
I thought it was just part of his old estate agent job, but there was some oddly specific wording that he insisted on.
That was you, behind the scenes, right? Even after everything… ’
He holds both hands up in a ‘guilty as charged’ gesture, still clutching the brown envelope in one set of fingers.
We pace around each other, he stays on his side of the terrace in front of the glittering hedge, and I stay on mine, by the patio door, pacing in the light spilling out from inside.
‘I wouldn’t have run,’ I say eventually. He looks so nervous that I can feel my anger towards him dispersing. ‘I’ve nearly texted you so many times this week. Just to say thank you for having a back-up plan. We don’t know if it’s worked yet, but—’
‘It’s worked. It’s not official yet, but I know old stonework when I see it.
So does Witt. That well was built an extremely long time ago, the basement was built to accommodate the well, years later.
There’s no way it won’t go through, and my company knows it too.
Liss, I…’ He sighs and shakes his head. ‘I have something for you.’
He takes a step closer and holds out the envelope, but when I reach for it, he pulls it back.
‘I don’t expect anything from this. It’s not a way of getting you to talk to me.
It’s simply following through on what I told you I’d come here to do – save the museum and make sure it never ends up in the wrong hands again.
I could have sent it in the post, but honestly, I wanted to see you.
I wanted a chance to apologise again and… ’
‘…and you’ve clearly got the others on your side.’ I finish the sentence when he trails off.
He smiles for the first time tonight. ‘I had a feeling that to have any chance of winning you back, I’d need a little help from your friends.’
I take the envelope from him and open the top, and pull out… documents. Typed documents full of long, complicated, businessy words that blur in front of my eyes. ‘What is this?’
‘The title deeds for the museum. It’s worthless to Berrington Developments now. They can’t touch any part of the wishing well or the basement where it stands. I took it as pay-off to leave the company.’
‘What?’ This time, the words blur in front of my eyes for a different reason, and I have to hold the pages away so tears don’t drip onto them. ‘I can’t accept this. It’s too much. That’s a big building, it must be worth a fortune.’
‘It’s literally worthless to anyone except you.
No one can touch the building without disturbing the well.
No developer will ever be able to do anything with it.
No one wants it – except those it matters to.
If I keep it, you’ll be answerable to me, and I don’t want that.
The museum belongs to you. It always has done, but now it’s official.
You will never again have to worry about someone like me coming in and taking over. ’
‘Warren, you can’t do this…’
‘It’s already done. The paperwork is with the company solicitor, he’ll be in touch when everyone’s back from the Christmas holidays for you to sign the final agreement. The museum is yours, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.’
I don’t realise how hard I’m crying until a huge sob escapes and tears drip onto my chest.
‘I’m sorry.’ He takes a tentative step towards me. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to do the right thing for once.’