Page 6 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum
‘That’s an intriguing interpretation of office space.
I’ve got a kink in my neck already.’ When Warren reappears in the lobby, he’s got one hand on the back of his neck and is turning his head from side to side, his tablet is tucked under his other arm, and he’s got a water bottle dangling from one finger.
‘Shall we start this tour then? Unless you’re snowed under with visitors, that is… ’
He waves an open hand around the lobby, but even the workmen have gone for a coffee break and I have to accept that the museum is as empty as it usually is.
It’s not always like this. There are good days, he just happens to have turned up on a quiet Monday.
Of course he has. If someone arrives to pick apart your business, it’s not like they’re going to come on a bright and bustling day when it doesn’t look like it needs any help, is it?
That would go against the rules of the universe.
All right, there are more quiet days than there are bright and bustling ones, but still.
It was busier over the summer and it’s always quieter on weekdays. Things will pick up.
‘Let’s start outside and work our way upwards, and don’t worry, I’ll let you go if there’s a sudden influx of money-wielding guests.
’ He spins on the heel of his shiny shoes and heads for the entrance doors, and I get out from behind the reception desk and reluctantly traipse after him.
I have a feeling that ‘tour’ may be not quite the right word, and ‘fault-finding exercise’ might be more apt.
‘This sign needs to be much clearer.’ He’s started speaking before I’ve even got outside, and he’s already jotting something down on the screen of his tablet, and then he steps back and snaps a photo of the large metal signpost that shows what the building is.
‘It just says “Colours of the Wind Museum”. There’s nothing that explains what you have on display here, and the name sounds like it could be a museum for autumn leaves. ’
‘I would love to see a museum full of autumn leaves.’
‘Yes, quite.’ His blue eyes flick up to me and blink like he can’t quite comprehend someone making a joke about that.
‘But the name means nothing. I am now aware that it’s a song from Pocahontas, but only because a member of my staff explained it to me last week.
I won’t be the only one who doesn’t get it, and people are not going to come in if it isn’t immediately obvious what it is.
We’ll need to order a new sign that makes it much clearer. Do you have a logo?’
‘I don’t need a logo.’
‘Everyone needs a logo, for branding purposes if nothing else. You can put it on everything to do with the museum and people will instantly recognise it.’
It’s one of those things that I’ve thought about idly over the years, but a logo has always seemed too businesslike, and the last thing I want is for this place to start feeling like a corporation.
When I shake my head, he sighs and inputs something else into the Tablet of Gloom. He also casts a beady eye over the sandwich board next to the door where the entrance prices are displayed, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. ‘I believe there’s a garden I need to see?’
‘Yes. It’s only small, but it’s special. I’ve carved gaps in the trees for books, strung up fairylights, and there’s a magical wishing well that really grants wishes.’
‘I’m sorry?’ He puts a hand behind his ear like he needs to hear the sentence again. ‘Did you just use the term “magical wishing well that really grants wishes” and keep a straight face?’
‘It’s real. Come on, I’ll show you.’ I beckon him to follow me along the paving stone walkway that skirts around the building and leads through a decorative wooden gate that feels like entering a secret garden, and into the museum’s outside space.
There are beds of daylilies at the entrance, and he stops to crouch down and read the plaque explaining what they are.
‘A real-life version of the Sundrop flower from Tangled… I don’t know what that is, but these are looking very sorry for themselves.
Are they weather-damaged or have people nicked them? ’
I look at the once-bursting beds of lilies, but the leaves are a bit on the slug-eaten side, and most of the stems are bare where people have, indeed, helped themselves. ‘You can’t stop people picking flowers, and it is autumn, the summer flowers are starting to have seen better days.’
‘If you cultivate these as an exhibition then they should be in cages to protect them from wandering hands. Better to have no exhibit at all than one that looks as faded as this.’
‘Do you know how excited children get to see a real-life version of a flower from a Disney film? Most people don’t even realise that the Sundrop flower was based on a real lily. It’s a bit annoying, but there are worse things people could do than take a flower as a reminder of their time here.’
‘If people are going to take anything from here then they need to pay for the privilege.’
‘You can’t charge someone to pick a flower!’
‘No, you can’t. I, however, have no qualms. If you’ve put time and effort into growing them, they are not free to take, and that must be made clear.
’ He stands back up and looks around the garden.
‘There aren’t any “don’t pick the flowers” signs up.
Not even an arbitrary attempt to stop people taking them. ’
‘There was, once, but people ignored it, and when it fell down, I didn’t replace it because it wasn’t doing any good.
’ I’m reluctant to agree with anything he says, but there’s an energy in his voice that makes me feel quite reassured by the value he places on my exhibits.
I do get annoyed at the thought of people picking them and I’ve never known what the solution is, but charging people isn’t it.
What next, oxygen at 50p per microgram if you’re inclined to breathe while visiting?
‘They’re one of the exhibits, no different to any other.
I’ve got all the incomings and outgoings paperwork that you have to submit to the council, along with incident reports, so believe me, I know you have issues with people stealing the exhibits, but we’ll get onto that later because I need to see them to understand what the reports are telling me.
I’m not well-versed in this Disney nonsense. ’
‘And that, sir, is why you have no place in this museum and I don’t see how you can help with something you don’t understand.’
‘Sir? An improvement on what you called me earlier.’ He raises a dark eyebrow and one corner of his mouth twitches. ‘And I’d venture that precisely the point of you giving me a tour is to help me understand what’s going on here.’
‘What’s going on here is that you can’t monetise something as simple as picking flowers, and if that’s what you’re trying to do, you may as well leave now.
If you’re going to add a fee to everything, then the integrity of the museum will be lost. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather bow out now than watch this place become something unrecognisable. ’
My voice wobbles as I say it, but the flowers have given me a biting flash-forward to what the next few months are going to be like.
How are we ever going to agree on anything?
And even if we do agree on some things, we’re never going to agree on a solution to them, are we?
I have a sudden sense that we’re delaying the painful inevitability of me losing this place anyway.
Would I be better off spending the next few months preparing for the unavoidable ending rather than trying to fight a battle I can’t win?
I have no idea what I’d do without the museum.
I can’t picture a future without it, and the thought is enough to send me into a panic spiral as I imagine bleak, endless days, and my life feeling as empty as it felt before I found this place.
An art gallery at the time, overseen by an old chap who was about to retire, and the idea for Colours of the Wind came into my head and it gave me something to focus on, and brought the friendship of the other Ever After Street shopkeepers into my life, who rallied behind my idea and filled my days with joy and enthusiasm.
I don’t know what I’d do without the community and companionship of this little street.
‘I’m open to anything, Lissa. I’m just trying to get a handle on this place and what’s going on here.
’ I must be terrible at hiding my emotions because he sounds slightly contrite.
‘I’ve heard a little about you while dealing with the local council to get our plans approved.
You’re not one to step down from a fight. ’
‘Neither are you, I’m guessing.’
The smile that spreads across his face is the first one that’s looked real all morning and it’s a thing of beauty. ‘And that’s what makes it interesting.’
I shake myself and take a few steps to put more distance between us, and he follows me from the entrance and into the wider part of the garden.
‘Wow. It’s like someone dropped a library out here.’ He goes to poke one of the books. ‘A wooden library. Why are all these books made of wood?’
‘We’re in England. It tends to rain occasionally. Real books and rain don’t fare well together?’
‘Oh, ha ha, you know what I meant. Why are all the…’ He looks above us. ‘Wait, are those book pages growing on trees?’
‘Those are laminated book pages tied onto the tree branches, yes.’
His fingers are rubbing over the wooden book he’s picked up, which is one of the many bookish sculptures made by my friend Franca. ‘I have so many questions…’