As the wedding gets closer, the one thing that gets stronger is how much I love Ever After Street and want to stay here, no matter what. I love my tearoom. I’ve bought some copies of Alice in Wonderland from Marnie and put them out on a shelf, and it’s a joy to see customers pick them up and flick through them while drinking their sparkly tea.
It’s the sense of community too. I only met Marnie last year but I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. I love my Ever After Street colleagues. I feel like there are people I can turn to at any time with any question or query, and people to help out if needed, like Franca did last week.
And then there’s the help with the wedding. It’s Thursday evening, three days before the big day, and Marnie, Darcy, and I are in Bram’s kitchen, the four of us forming a tag team with the Nutella muffins and Creme Egg cheesecakes. We’ve got over a hundred and fifty of each to make before Sunday, and with the help of a battalion of airtight containers, they’ll still be fresh enough by the big day.
Bram’s put a nineties’ music playlist on, and we’re all singing along and dancing around the kitchen, and none of us are any good at singing or dancing, so the self-consciousness has gone, and we’re just enjoying ourselves, according to Bram’s policy of making tasks fun. And it’s brilliant. What seemed like an overwhelmingly impossible undertaking has become a fun evening with good friends.
He and Darcy are making the cheesecakes and Marnie and I are working as a team on the muffins, and I’m having one of the happiest evenings I can remember in recent times, and it’s all because of one man.
I meet Bram’s eyes across the kitchen, and he beams at me, tips an imaginary cowboy hat in my direction, and then line dances back over to the counter to the tune of ‘Cotton Eye Joe’.
I tap my foot as I stir the third batch of muffin mixture, and Marnie steps closer and nudges me with her elbow. ‘He’s smitten.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ I try to ignore the little quiver that sets off in my chest.
‘He hasn’t stopped smiling since we arrived, and coincidentally, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we arrived either. And neither have you, for that matter.’ She nudges me again and whispers, ‘I’m starting to think that you and I only paired up to ensure there was no canoodling over the muffins.’
‘Canoodling!’
I don’t realise how loudly I’ve said it until Bram and Darcy both turn to look at me.
‘…is a great word.’ I try to save the sentence, which fails when Bram raises both eyebrows with a cheeky grin, and it makes my face flare so hot that it could be used to cook the muffins if we run out of oven space.
‘This is fun.’ Darcy, who is still limping as he recovers from a broken ankle at the end of last year, swipes another piece of the cut-up Creme Eggs the boys are using on the other side of the kitchen. ‘Why have we never done this before?’
‘I didn’t think anyone from Ever After Street would want to hang out with me. You know who my father is,’ Bram adds when Marnie and Darcy both look at him in confusion.
‘I didn’t,’ Marnie says. ‘I only ever dealt with my own landlord.’
‘Me neither,’ Darcy confirms.
‘Yeah, but… guilt by association. He makes life difficult for a lot of people on our little street. If you rent from the council then he’s an ogre to his tenants. If you rent from a private landlord then he still makes life difficult, and if you own outright then you still have his strict guidelines to follow, as you two know.’
The shopkeepers of Ever After Street helped Marnie buy her bookshop last year, and Bram is referring to Mr Hastings’ constant monitoring of her business, and the stringent hoops she has to jump through if she wants approval to make the slightest change. Trust in the shopkeepers who work on Ever After Street is not Mr Hastings’ strong point.
‘I’m also not great at letting people in,’ Bram continues quietly. ‘I know I’m not everybody’s cup of Cream Soda. I dress strangely. I wear eyeliner and jewellery. Not everyone likes magic – some people find it downright creepy. I’m weird, I know that.’
‘As Cleo once said to me about Darcy – all the best people are,’ Marnie says. ‘And it’s certainly true in our case.’
They make eyes at each other across the kitchen, and I meet Bram’s gaze and grin at him, knowing he’ll have recognised the Alice quote too.
‘I don’t think it’s about being weird,’ I say. ‘I think it’s about finding people who are on the same wavelength of weirdness as you are until there’s so much weirdness that it kind of cancels itself out and you’re just normal with each other.’
‘The weirdest sentence that makes perfect sense to me.’ Bram smiles at me again. I might’ve thought he was a bit weird at first, but now I think he’s perfect just as he is.
Darcy’s taller than Bram and he slings an arm around his shoulder. ‘You were always kind to me when I refused to accept kindness. No one knows better than me about looking weird.’ He indicates his facial scarring that he kept covered for so long, and although he no longer wears the disguise he used to wear, it’s no secret that he still struggles.
‘Aww. Thanks, mate.’ The playlist song changes to ‘Kiss from a Rose’ and right on cue, Bram clicks his fingers and produces a playing card rose from thin air and holds it out to Darcy.
He doesn’t have his usual cargo trousers on tonight and seems to have nowhere to stash any trickery. For a moment, I wonder if it’s more feasible that he has actual magic powers.
‘I have no idea how you did that. That’s incredible.’ Darcy pokes at the rose like it might disappear in a puff of smoke at any second.
Bram blushes and I realise something. He’s himself tonight. He’s not doing a Hatter act. He’s letting two… well, not strangers because I know he knows Marnie and Darcy, but not well enough to call them friends. He’s letting them see the real him. The shy side who’s scared of rejection. He separates the parts of himself. He mostly only does magic when he’s got on his loud, untouchable front, and I think it’s taken more than he’ll admit to let my friends in and trust that they won’t ridicule him.
‘I haven’t had Cream Soda since I was a kid, but you’re definitely my cup of it,’ Darcy says. ‘We should do this again sometime. Maybe without the chaos of a few hundred things to bake, but still…’
Bram blushes and makes an excuse about checking things in the oven, and maybe it’s a good thing we’re not alone tonight, because that blush makes me want to wrap my arms around him, press my lips to his red cheeks and make sure he knows that the people who make him feel like he’s barely tolerable are far, far outnumbered by people who think he’s bloody brilliant.
It’s hours later when the final batch of cheesecakes has been slid into the giant fridge. It’s dark outside, and seeing as none of us have had a cup of tea since early afternoon, Marnie’s making an emergency cup while I set out muffins on a plate for us all to test. ‘I can’t believe it’s nearly 10 p.m.’
Darcy is cleaning the kitchen countertops while Bram loads the dishwasher. ‘Time flies when you’re having kittens.’
I can’t help giggling. His mixed-up idioms have become the highlight of my day, and that familiar urge to hug him twinges again. It’s definitely a good thing we’ve got chaperones tonight.
He smiles back at me, but it’s cut off by the ring of his gate security camera, and he dries his hands and goes to answer the video screen beside the door.
‘It’s my father,’ he calls in from the hallway. ‘He will be the one having kittens if I refuse him entry and I don’t fancy cleaning that mess up.’
Marnie’s eyes widen. ‘Should we hide? It’s supposed to be you doing the wedding catering. We don’t want him to know you’ve had help.’
‘No caterer would work alone. The one they hired would’ve had a team of staff. He should see what an unreasonable demand this was. I want him to know that we couldn’t do this alone,’ I say, touched that she thought of it.
Bram is still watching the video screen in the hallway. ‘Judging by the garment bag, he’s here to talk to me about my clothing choices for the wedding on Sunday. Again.’
Mr Hastings huffs and puffs his way up the stairs to the door when Bram opens it, a garment bag draped over his arm as he indicates Darcy’s truck in the driveway. ‘Am I interrupting something, Abraham?’
Bram steps back from the door and invites him in. ‘It’s 10 p.m. and we’re busy. Why would you be interrupting anything?’
If Mr Hastings detects the sarcasm, he doesn’t acknowledge it as he smooths down the garment bag over his arm before he spots me lurking in the kitchen doorway.
‘Oh, Miss Jordan. It’s you.’ He sounds like he’d be more thrilled to find a giant slug in the hallway, chomping on the skirting boards.
‘We’re preparing for the wedding,’ Bram says. ‘We had to call in reinforcements seeing as Cleo is not a caterer and your blackmailing has forced her into doing the impossible.’
‘Blackmail is such a strong word. I merely asked her to do us a favour, and I thought it might be nice for you to be involved in your sister’s wedding. You hardly spend any time with the family these days. You push us all away.’
‘You push me—’
Mr Hastings cuts off Bram’s comeback. ‘Besides, I thought nothing was impossible. Isn’t that what the quote on your wall says, Miss Jordan?’
‘We didn’t say it was impossible,’ Bram answers before I have time to come up with a witty retort. ‘But we are quite busy. I assume the garment bag is for me?’
‘I wanted to make sure you have something suitable to wear on Sunday, Abraham.’
It irks me hearing Mr Hastings use his full name. It isn’t his name and it feels like a little niggling way of insulting him.
‘I have something suitable to wear.’ Bram sounds so weary that I suspect this is approximately the seventh time they’ve had this conversation.
‘Well, why don’t you show me and I’ll be the judge of that?’
‘Because I’m not four years old. I don’t need my clothing choices to be policed by you.’
‘We’ve been over this, son. This is the most important day of your sister’s life. You need to put her first and put aside your own choices for one single day, unlike what you put poor Tabby through when she was trying to plan your wedding.’
‘I have my clothes. Cleo can vet them later to make sure they’re suitable. You can trust her judgement even if you don’t trust mine.’
‘Yes, well…’ Mr Hastings looks me up and down, like I’m hardly a candidate for fashion advice, with my hair tied in a messy knot, a baggy T-shirt that takes the place of an apron, and there’s probably flour smeared across my face. He turns back to Bram. ‘Take this anyway. It’s a suit – understated and sophisticated. I’m just trying to help.’ His eyes linger on Bram for a moment, like he wants to say something else, but then he sighs and his gaze returns to me. ‘I’m glad you’re here actually, Miss Jordan. I have a letter for you in my car. I was going to drop it by the tearoom in the morning, but you can save me a trip. If you’ll accompany me outside…’
He shoves the garment bag at Bram, and then jerks his head to indicate that I should follow him.
‘Let me hang this up and I’ll be out too.’ Bram takes the garment bag and catches my eyes as I follow Mr Hastings.
‘I fear you think me unduly cruel, Miss Jordan.’ Outside, Mr Hastings stops at his posh car but doesn’t open it or look at me. ‘I dread to think what my son has told you, but you seem to have achieved the impossible and formed a mutually respectful connection with him.’
‘Oh, we’re not…’
‘He listens to you. It’s been years since he listened to me. He just won’t…’ Mr Hastings makes a noise of frustration. ‘If he could just look… normal. Get a proper job. Something with security. Long-term prospects. A pension plan. There’s no future in bleedin’ card tricks, is there?’
‘What he does is so much more than card tricks. He’s exceptionally talented. He makes people believe in the impossible, and doing that makes him happy.’
‘I had a future all lined up for him,’ Mr Hastings continues as though I haven’t spoken. ‘In-demand qualifications. A well-paying job. And he goes and throws it all away to toss around cards and throw confetti. I only want what’s best for him, and I don’t understand what he wants from life. I don’t know how to make him see…’
‘Maybe it’s you who could see it from his point of view,’ I say carefully, feeling hideously out of my depth. Mr Hastings obviously needed to vent, and he’s chosen to do it to me, but he’s still my terrifying boss. Does he really want my input on this? ‘All he wants is what any of us want – to be happy and to be loved.’
‘I do love him. I do want to see him happy. I just…’ He sighs and shakes his head. ‘The distance between us is growing and I don’t know how to reach him. I try, but all I end up doing is pushing him further away.’
‘Just because he’s different to you doesn’t make him wrong. There’s plenty of space for both of your viewpoints, but—’
We both look up as the door opens and Bram comes out.
‘I know what it’s like to lose a parent without making amends,’ I say quickly. ‘Any compromise is worthwhile before it’s too late.’
‘’ello, why are my ears burning?’ Bram bounces down the steps, suspicious eyes looking between us.
‘I was just getting an update on the catering from Miss Jordan,’ Mr Hastings says. ‘Which brings me nicely to my point. I wanted a word about some complaints we’ve received.’ He opens the passenger door of his car and extracts an envelope from the glovebox, and hands it to me.
I tear open the ominous-looking brown paper, glad the outside floodlights are bright enough to read by.
Food Safety Warning is stamped in big red letters across the top.
Due to a number of complaints received about the quality of food served at your establishment, the local authority deems it necessary to complete a food safety inspection. An inspector will arrive onsite at nine o’clock on 31 May. This appointment is non-negotiable.
If shortcomings are found, steps must be taken to ensure these incidences do not occur again. If serious issues are found, then we will be forced to insist that you cease trading with immediate effect.
Please ensure you are following correct hygiene protocols and that your business is closed on the given date and you are available to answer the food safety inspector’s questions and co-operate fully with our investigation.
Bram is reading it over my shoulder and he scoffs. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘We’ve had some complaints about The Wonderland Teapot.’ Mr Hastings scuffs the toes of his shiny shoes against the gravel, looking uneasy. ‘There are reviews talking about salty muffins. A complaint about brownies. Even a case of food poisoning, so I hear.’ His eyes flick to Bram. ‘It all seems to be coming back to you, Miss Jordan. I’ve tried my best to help, but this really can’t be ignored any longer.’
I’m surprised Bram told him about the food poisoning. I don’t blame him, but considering how often he’s taken responsibility for things that were my fault, I didn’t think he’d rush to tell his father about that.
‘The council’s food safety team will send an inspector to have a look around. While I’m sure it’s not your doing, we have to take these things seriously and handle them with empathy. If you aren’t doing anything wrong and these complaints are merely fictionalised, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘You can’t blame Cleo,’ Bram says. ‘Things have happened that are beyond anyone’s control. It’s a new business. There are gremlins sharpening their teeth.’
His father gives him a scathing look and Bram rolls his eyes. ‘Metaphorical gremlins. I don’t think there are actual gremlins.’
At least he clarified that because there are times when I haven’t been sure. Mainly, I appreciate the way he sticks up for me, no matter what.
‘Gremlins or not, Abraham, I don’t appreciate having my ear chewed off by the head of the environmental health department, or the insinuation that I am not keeping on top of the eatery establishments in my jurisdiction.’
‘It’s impossible to prove,’ Bram says.
‘Impossible or not, the establishment must take full responsibility, financial liability, and learn from mistakes made. If you’re not willing to comply, Miss Jordan, maybe you don’t belong on Ever After Street after all.’
‘I’ll comply.’ I pull myself up taller and puff out my chest.
‘Jolly good. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.’ With one final look at Bram, he walks around to the driver’s side of his car. ‘My apologies for interrupting your evening. As you were.’
I hold the letter out in front of us. ‘You can’t make that disappear with an abracadabra, can you?’
‘No, but you can make it into a paper rose, and one day we’ll display it in your tearoom when this is nothing but ancient history.’
Mr Hastings gets into his car and starts up, giving us a wave through the windscreen as he reverses with a spray of gravel.
‘Don’t take it personally. If there’s one thing people are always going to do, it’s complain. What we need to do before that inspection is find a way to prove Tabby tampered with those cakes and that it wasn’t something we did.’
‘And if we can’t?’ I sigh. ‘And even if we can, what difference does it make? I should have been overseeing things. Having a staff member tampering with the cakes is just as bad. I’m the one who’s taken my eye off the ball. And either way, does it stop me being shut down? Does it change the fact that people have been ill after eating at my tearoom?’
‘Yes. Yes, it does. Because she’s not your staff member. She’s employed by the council. She’s his responsibility. Lie down with dogs and… you have a great time. Dogs are brilliant. Who wouldn’t want to lie down with them?’
It makes me laugh even though laughing is the last thing I feel like doing. He’s said it in his nasally Hatter voice, just high-pitched enough to let me know he’s bothered by this too.
Maybe it’s a sign from the universe. I feel like everything has been against me from day one, apart from Bram. Maybe this was never meant for me. Maybe I was stupid to attempt to take on my own tearoom with no experience. Marnie still needs an assistant at the bookshop and I bet Bram could get his job at the carousel back… I sigh because the thought spiral is getting me down, and I step back until I can nudge his arm instead. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He glances down at me. ‘I have a suit for Sunday. A perfectly normal grey one with a tartan waistcoat and a tie. He won’t find anything to complain about. But I’ve been winding him and Laura up by threatening to wear wild outfits and they don’t realise that the more wound up they get, the more I wind them up. He doesn’t understand the concept of teasing.’
Even I know that about Bram, and I’ve only known him for two months.
‘He doesn’t mean any harm, not really. He’s just trying to make sure I don’t look like me. He bought me a box of dark hair dye last week. I’ve heard the “that hair is going to be in your sister’s wedding photos for the rest of her life” speech three times in the past two weeks. I offered to not be in the wedding photos if it offends them that much.’
We’re standing underneath the magnolia tree and still watching Mr Hastings’ car reversing slowly towards the gate. I reach up and stroke Bram’s hair back from where it’s covering his ear, and then whisper into it, ‘Never change.’
I hear his breath catch, and his arm goes around my waist, low on my back, his fingers curl into my hip on the other side, and he holds me against him. I let my hand slide over his shoulder and then rest my head on it as we watch Mr Hastings’ fancy car reverse through the gate.
‘You mean that? My life is full of people who wish I was different.’
‘I think he’s trying, in his horribly misguided way. I think he wishes he understood you better, but he doesn’t know how.’
He lets out a sigh and his head drops to rest against mine and it feels like he simply breathes for a few moments, and I appreciate the calm stillness because any meeting with Mr Hastings is always fraught with tension for both of us.
‘How long before Marnie and Darcy realise we’ve been out here canoodling?’
‘No canoodling!’ I smack his arm and he laughs, making that single dimple dent inwards, and without giving myself a chance to second guess it, I use my grip on his shoulder to pull him down while I push myself up on tiptoes and brush my lips across it.
His fingers touch his cheek like he isn’t sure what just happened. ‘That was definitely canoodley.’
I blush. ‘You have a way with words, Bram.’
‘Usually the wrong way, except when I’m with you. Nothing seems wrong when I’m with you.’
I look up into his eyes and can’t imagine being anything but honest in this moment. ‘Same.’
His mouth twitches as he tries not to smile. ‘Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.’