‘Well, rather than being blinded by that ridiculous hair and offensively bright jacket, you should take a step back and objectively consider who is most likely to have ruined your muffins. Who made them?’
‘Bram and I did, together.’
‘And you saw everything he put in them, did you? You had eyes on him at all times?’
‘Yes! Well, no, but I’d have noticed if he’d dumped half a tin of salt in them! And we tried them! They were perfect last night!’
‘Right, and after that, did you leave him alone with them? Who handled them last? Who’s been alone in the tearoom this morning?’
The answer to all those questions is Bram. Of course it is. Last night, I took stuff out to the car while he loaded the muffins into cake tins ready to bring in this morning. I didn’t watch him every second – why would I? ‘That’s ridiculous. How would he know I wouldn’t have one for breakfast and find out? And why? What would Bram have to gain from sabotaging anything around here? If I lose The Wonderland Teapot, he loses his job as the Hatter.’
‘He’ll find another one. People like him always bounce back. You don’t honestly think dear daddy Hastings would let him be jobless for long, do you? This’ll be his idea of a practical joke, you mark my words.’
‘He’s not a practical jokey kind of person. Bram does magic tricks, he doesn’t pull pranks.’
‘Same thing.’ She reaches over to squeeze my shoulder. ‘You’re young and naive, Cleo.’
‘I’m thirty-four! And you’re only two years older than me, you’re not exactly a wizened old tortoise are you?’
‘You forget that I have five years’ worth of experience with Bram. You’ve only known him for a few weeks. You’re taken in by his sense of humour, but that wears thin very fast, especially when you’re an adult and he has eternal Peter Pan syndrome. The attention-seeking manchild who point-blank refuses to grow up. He’s the class clown. Disrupting lessons and causing havoc, and the more the other students find him funny, the more he acts up to impress them.’ She squeezes my shoulder again and I’m torn between being annoyed at being patronised and trying not to show how much my interest is piqued. I like Bram. He doesn’t seem like a manchild, he seems like someone who’s been hurt and has created a shield to stop himself being hurt again, but she’s right too – realistically, she does know him better than I do, and there’s a horrible, gnawing niggle of doubt in my mind.
‘And he knew full well he could blame the salt on me.’ She goes back to talking about the muffins. ‘He doesn’t want to work with me any more than I want to work with him. He’s trying to get me fired.’
‘No, he’s not like that. He’s not bitter about the way things ended between you.’
‘Things didn’t end between us – he ended them out of the blue. I thought we were happy. It left me reeling. It’s taken years for me to put my broken heart back together. I was part of his family and he tossed me aside like the past five years of our lives had meant nothing.’
I don’t know whether I want to get into this or not. It’s nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever happened between them, but I can’t help myself burrowing. ‘That’s not what I heard…’
‘I’m allowed to have standards! A wedding day is the most important day of any woman’s life. I’m not wrong to want to marry a man who doesn’t turn up wearing flipping eyeliner or cracking some lame joke and embarrassing me. Our wedding photos would have been with us for the rest of our lives. I didn’t want him to look like…’ She waves a hand towards the stairs. ‘That.’
‘Surely the person you’re marrying is more important than what they look like.’
‘And I think he should have compromised to make me happy. His family had become like my family. We had spent five years together. We’d gone on holidays together. Shared important life events. They were my in-laws in all but an official capacity. And suddenly, gone. Over. Now I feel like I’m doing something wrong by even contacting them. Laura’s been like a sister to me for years, and now she can’t invite me to her wedding without being torn over upsetting him. I don’t have a close family of my own, and losing them broke my heart.’
I bite my lip because I really feel for her. The things no one tells you about the consequences of a break-up. When two people have been together for that long, it isn’t just them that splitting up affects.
‘Daddy Hastings always thought my influence was good for Bram. And now look at the state of him without it.’
And just like that, my hackles are bristling again. She can switch from making me want to give her a hug to making me want her to drink a shrinking potion and shrivel down to ant size in one simple sentence. Bram has done nothing but help me since I met him. He doesn’t deserve that. ‘He’s—’
‘He’s a mess, Cleo,’ she interrupts before I can defend him. ‘Squatting in his father’s house, dressing like a toddler who’s got into their parents’ wardrobe and make-up case, doing magic for a living, and before now, running a carousel. It’s not exactly blazing ambition, is it?’
‘He’s playing a character in the tearoom. He’s ambitious with what he does. The tricks he can do are something else. People can do what they love and be happy. Not everyone needs to be rich and famous.’
‘But everyone should want bigger things. Like you. I might think this place is a bit childish, but it’s good to see a young woman with a vision and the drive to make it happen. Have a little more faith in yourself and you won’t need his help, and trust me, everything is better when Bram Hastings isn’t involved in it.’
I take that thinly veiled compliment and use it to appeal to her better nature. ‘Okay, so businesswoman to businesswoman, level with me. Any means necessary to succeed, right? Even a spot of sabotage? You can be honest with me, Tabby. I’d prefer the truth… because I can’t help but think Mr Hastings offered this place to you, and now you want it back.’
‘What?’
I explain, and to be fair, she seems totally confused by the revelation that Mr Hastings offered the building to someone else and then changed his mind.
‘That’s odd. Mr Hastings never changes his mind about anything. He’s very set in his ways. And he’s far too professional for anything of the sort. I’m sorry, but to put it in words you understand, you’re barking up the wrong raspberry bush. I have zero idea about this building being given to anyone else, and even less interest in trying to sabotage anything you’re doing here. I champion women in business. My only interest is in showing Mr Hastings that I’m a team player and ensuring I’m front and centre of his mind when the next empty space comes up on Ever After Street.’
‘Well, one thing’s for certain, it won’t happen again. No one will be unattended with any cakes from now on.’
‘You just make sure you’re looking in the right place, Cleo. Because one thing magicians are good at is misdirection – ensuring you’re looking at the side of the stage while the trick is being done right in front of you.’
It sets a cold seed of dread growing in my chest. She does know Bram better than I do. What he told me about their break-up was only his side of the story. There is always another side.
Her comment about Bram not being on my side has been playing on my mind since she made it yesterday. I don’t know that he wouldn’t do something like this – what if Tabby does know that he would?
14
‘How’s life at The Wonderland Teapot, Cleo?’ Ali from the 1001 Nights restaurant asks.
It’s a Monday morning and it’s my first Ever After Street meeting as a shopkeeper, even though I’ve got to know everyone throughout the months of helping Marnie. Lilith, who used to own the tearoom, would provide tea and cake for all the shopkeepers, so Bram and I have brought along a plateful of Cherry Bakewell cupcakes – vanilla sponge with chopped almonds and cherries in it, with a white peak of almond flavoured icing and a cherry on top. It’s really a test to see if our twist on the classic will go down well with Cherry Bakewell lovers, and the meeting is constantly interrupted by moans of pleasure whenever anyone tries one.
We’re gathered in the clearing in the middle of Ever After Street, surrounded by little white fences and flower beds, with seating and verges of grass for picnicking on. I glance at Bram, who is reclining along one of the picnic benches with his yellow boots up on the table and he grins at me.
I try to ignore the little flutter of butterflies flashing around inside and answer Ali. ‘It’s really good.’
‘You have plenty of customers going in and out,’ Mickey, who runs The Mermaid’s Treasure Trove, says.
‘I have people warning me that I’ll have to let their wedding dresses out if they eat any more of your cakes,’ Sadie, the seamstress from The Cinderella Shop adds. She makes wedding dresses for all the brides who have flocked to get married at the castle since she and Witt opened it up for weddings and receptions.
I can’t help blushing. I’ve been working so hard, practising at Bram’s every night, making batches of anything we can think of to incorporate well-loved British treats, and selling them in the tearoom the next day, gradually reducing the amount of supermarket-bought goods on offer and increasing the number of genuinely homemade ones.
