‘Children are always talking excitedly about it. At the carousel, I’ve seen a huge increase in kids happy because they’re about to go in.’ Joshy is the new carousel operator, a young lad of about twenty who’s taken on Bram’s old job. He’s more of a balloon-animals type of children’s entertainer than his predecessor, and also impresses both children and adults by singing made-up songs in his extraordinarily deep voice. ‘And lots of nans and granddads warning them that they’ve got to have their ride first and then eat cake. The other way around tends not to end well.’
‘Tell them about the wedding,’ Marnie prompts me. ‘It’s totally unfair. Someone should tell that awful Mr Hastings where to shove his bullyish ultimatums.’
She’s the only person I’ve told about the wedding catering job and how I can’t get out of it without losing the tearoom, and I hadn’t intended to tell the others because I feel small for not refusing and standing my ground, but how can I run the risk of Mr Hastings following through on his threats?
‘Bullyish?’ Lissa, the curator of Ever After Street’s fairy-tale museum, can’t hide her ears pricking up at the hint of a good cause to get behind.
‘Ultimatums?’ Imogen, a middle-aged lady who runs Sleeping Beauty’s Once Upon A Dream – a lovely little shop full of all your nighttime needs, like sleepover kits, fancy pyjamas, bath bombs, soft and cosy blankets – sits forward, clearly wondering what’s been going on when words like that are thrown around.
I sigh and tell them everything about Laura’s caterer drop-out and Mr Hastings’ threat. ‘I don’t have any choice. He made it clear that if I don’t do it, my time at The Wonderland Teapot will be terminated, and I don’t want to lose that. I love it. I’ve always loved Alice in Wonderland and I love getting to share that, I love how many people ask me about it and how many have said they’re going to read it because of me, I love Bram, I—’ I choke on my own words. ‘I love working with Bram,’ I amend as quickly as possible. ‘Everyone who comes in loves the madness of the Hatter. I feel like I’ve been waiting all my life for this job.’
I’m trying not to meet his eyes, but I can’t resist a peek to see if he heard the unintentional blunder that I’m hoping no one heard. His cheeks have gone as red as mine, and the twinkle in his eyes looks like he’s trying not to smile but he can’t quite stop himself.
‘That’s totally unfair.’ Lissa folds her arms. ‘Complain to someone higher up. He can’t be allowed to treat employees like his own personal minions. That’s preposterously unprofessional.’
‘There is no one higher up. Mrs Willetts saw it happen, but no one has any authority over him. Speak out against him and you get fired. He’s a one-man power-hungry inflated walking ego.’ Bram gives me a nod at the throwback to what I said before I knew who he was.
‘Of all people, I don’t think you can say that.’ Lissa fixes him with a look that answers my unspoken question of whether I was the only one who didn’t know Bram’s surname.
‘You don’t need to get out of it. You need to show him that you won’t bow down to his coercive tactics.’ That’s Franca, who works at The Nutcracker Shop on Christmas Ever After. ‘Why don’t we help? Mr Hastings didn’t specify that you have to do every little thing, did he?’
I shake my head.
‘Well, why don’t we all chip in? I make a great lemon meringue pie. My colleague from the festive clothing shop is a whizz with Christmas cookies, she makes them for us year-round. I’m sure she’d be delighted to make some wedding-themed ones instead.’
A few others from the festive end of the street murmur agreement. They’re a little bit separated, and not all of them join us for the Ever After Street meetings, especially at this time of year, although we join forces when Christmas comes. Last year, they held the first Christmas market at the castle and it was unexpectedly popular, like a fairy-tale winter wonderland.
‘We can all help.’ Ali claps his hands together. ‘I own a restaurant. If anyone can help with wedding catering, I can. You should have come to me straight away!’
Mickey whisks a pen and a notepad from her bag. ‘Right, let’s make a list of what’s needed and then divvy it up between us. It won’t be so overwhelming then. Having to cater an entire wedding is outrageous, but if everyone makes a batch or two of something, it’ll be much easier, and Mr Hastings need never know.’
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t… You’d all deserve credit where it’s due.’
‘Cleo.’ Marnie wraps an arm around my shoulders. ‘You deserve to keep your place on this street, and we deserve to have you and The Wonderland Teapot. Let us all show that horrible Mr Hastings that nobody puts our baby in the corner.’
I’m not sure if it’s just a good moment for a Dirty Dancing reference, or if she means I’m the baby of the street as the newest arrival, but I can’t help feeling flushed with warmth that they’re even offering.
‘You know what they say – many hands make the sticky-fingered skeletons in the closet dance for joy.’ Bram has pulled his feet off the table and sat upright, and I look over at him, silently asking if he thinks this is a good idea, and he gives me a nod like he understands what I’ve managed to convey with my eyes.
Within five minutes, Ali has agreed to make a vast selection of salads and pasta salads. Mickey is doing vol-au-vents and Lissa is on mini sausage roll and mini cheese roll duty. Imogen has volunteered for mini quiches. Franca is making a few lemon meringue pies and arranging for her colleague to make love-themed shortbread cookies. The Cherry Bakewell cupcakes have convinced everyone that Bram and I are the best choice to stick with cakes and other baked goods made from Laura’s favourite things, and Marnie and Darcy have agreed to help us with those. I’m so overwhelmed with how easy they’ve made it that my eyes are welling up. This absolutely crushing thing that’s been hanging over me in the week since Mr Hastings’ visit is suddenly so greatly reduced that I can feel myself sagging in relief, even though I also have to make enough sandwiches to give a hundred and fifty people plenty of options.
Bram comes to stand next to me and slings an arm around my shoulder. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask for help. I should’ve known this lot would spring into action at the first sign of difficulty.’
‘Do you think Laura will mind?’
‘Not at all. No one need ever know.’ He’s left the stack of hats in the shop, and he tilts his head until his blue hair is leaning against mine, the hairsprayed spikes catching on my loose blonde strands. ‘And if anyone did ever know, then no, she wouldn’t mind. Her original caterer wouldn’t have done it alone, he’d have worked with a team of people. Even my father couldn’t object to us bringing in help. A 150-guest wedding is a lot to dump on anyone. And you have friends here who want The Wonderland Teapot to stay as much as I do. You don’t have to do everything alone. It’s okay to share the burden.’ He squeezes my shoulders pointedly, holding me against him for a long moment, and I exhale and tell myself to breathe, because it feels like I haven’t since Mr Hastings walked in the other day.
Bram’s head turns until his lips touch my hair, not a kiss, just a reassuring gesture that makes me feel good and turfs out the doubts that have been lingering since I spoke to Tabby last week. There’s no way he’s anything but genuine.
Seeing as he’s the one person who knows what Laura likes, he’s in-demand, and Mickey asks him about allergies, and then Lissa comes over to ask him about cheese preferences, and he drops his arm from around me and steps away to fend off enquiries, reaching over to scribble things on everyone’s sheets, so popular that it’s like he’s signing autographs.
‘Haven’t had this much fun since I won third place at the last tea tossing competition,’ Bram says when he’s started to look like he needs some space.
‘What’s a tea tossing competition?’ Ali asks, sounding as confused as everyone else looks.
‘You know when you spill a cup of tea and it sploshes so far across the unit that you couldn’t throw it any further if you tried? Well, I like to consider it a competition. How far can I toss the tea today? One point for covering the oven. Three points if it goes under the microwave. Bonus points for the floor too. People still talk fondly of the great tea toss of 1983.’
Our co-workers think he’s lost the plot. Imogen is looking at him like he’s barking mad, but I think about what he said about being shy. He got uncomfortable being the focal point then and said something daft to deflect attention. I can see him playing up his character and hiding behind his Hatter shield. ‘You really are a nuthatch, aren’t you?’
‘I am a handsome blue and orange bird with awesome eyeliner skills, yes. Thank you for the compliment.’ He takes a bow and then stands back up and winks at me.
‘Surprisingly it was.’ I can’t help smiling as our eyes meet and his mouth tips up lopsidedly, making his dimple dip his left cheek, and making me feel warmer than the spring sunshine heating the back of my neck.
When the last of the cupcakes are gone, Bram goes to collect the cake cases and plates.
‘Is he always like that?’ Imogen whispers to me as I start gathering up empty cups and teapots and loading them onto one of the trays we brought with us.
‘He is.’
‘I don’t know how you put up with it. Every conversation is one-third normal and two-thirds nonsense. It’s like spiralling down a rabbit hole and wondering what the heck he’s going on about.’
I laugh out loud. It’s one of the most accurate descriptions of Bram I’ve heard so far, and it makes me remember how I felt about his unique approach to conversations at first. ‘Surprisingly, you get used to it. You even grow accustomed to it.’
As if he can sense we’re talking about him, he looks over and grins at me and my stomach does that fluttery thing again.
‘Very, very accustomed to, hmm?’ Imogen’s eyes flit between us, and I walk into a table because I’m too busy smiling at him to watch where I’m going.
He’s the personification of Wonderland. Slightly mad, quite nonsensical, and… somewhere you want to go back to again and again.
