inside.
They were shown to a corner position and the table was pulled out for them to take their places. As the waiter pushed it back, covering their knees, Alma had the extravagant thought that it was not unlike being tucked into bed. They were handed menus. She understood the French, but she let Walter take her through it. He asked the waiter his name and then instructed him to tell the chef that Miss Alma Webster and Mr Walter Baranov were dining in the restaurant that evening.
'They don't know me here,' Alma whispered as the waiter left with the order.
'They will in future,' Walter said without lowering his voice. 'They don't know me either, but they feel that they should do, and that makes the difference between first class service and mere sufferance. Now, Alma, I must thank you for your tact and consideration.'
She frowned slightly. 'I'm not sure what you mean.'
He looked quite severe as he said, 'Don't you dare deny, young lady, that you could easily have read the menu for yourself.'
Alma blushed like a guilty child. She liked his masterful manner. It was straight out of
'I didn't guess, my dear. I watched your eyes. Before the war I earned a meagre living as a mind-reader in the music halls. Nine-tenths of the act was trickery, but you can train yourself to learn certain things by observation. For example, did you know that someone has been talking about us?'
'Oh?'
A waiter had appeared and was speaking from behind her. 'Compliments of the manager, Mr Baranov. He would like to offer you and the lady a glass of champagne.'
'Which we are happy to accept,' said Walter. 'Do thank him, won't you?' To Alma, he said, 'You see?'
'I'm very impressed.'
'I was about to tell you that by studying people's eyes and watching the way they react and noting whether they anticipate remarks, I can find out things they didn't mean to tell me.'
She laughed. 'I shall have to be more careful.'
'You needn't worry. I don't learn very much, or by now I would have made a fortune playing poker.'
'How did you become a mind-reader?'
'It was because I had no sense of balance. I couldn't walk a tightrope like my father. I couldn't ride a monocycle or juggle or throw knives into a board. You see, the way of life in the halls more or less dictates that the children of performers get before the footlights. There's precious little chance to learn anything else. I was a magician's plant when I was eight years old.'
'A plant?'
Walter's eyes twinkled. 'Not a geranium. A plant is an assistant posing as a member of the audience. It isn't easy for a small boy to sit still with a rabbit and two doves secreted under his jacket. I stuck it for a couple of years until I was old enough to get taken on by a mind-reader. I was still a plant.'
'But still not a geranium?' put in Alma.
'More of a forget-me-not, I suppose,' said Walter, returning her smile, it was more congenial work, and I learned enough about it to start an act of my own when I was seventeen. Walter Baranov, Clairvoyant and Mind- Reader Extraordinary.'
'It sounds very impressive.'
'I wish the act had been equal to the billing. I have to confess, Alma, that I was never very good on the stage. Something happened to me when I got in front of audiences. Not stage-fright — rather the reverse, in fact. I got over-confident, and things went wrong. Instead of speaking my patter, I extemporised, and nine times out of ten I made a hash of the mechanical things essential to the performance. The best performers are the ones who shake like jellies before they go on. I was never like that.'
'I'm sure it wasn't half so bad as you describe it.'
'My dear, it was grotesque. I carried on for years, but only thanks to the generosity of music hall managers doing favours for my father. That was how I first met Lydia. Her father owned the Streatham Empire, you know. Lydia was between engagements as an actress, and to amuse herself she joined the act as my assistant. Within a week she transformed it. What success we had then!' Walter's eyes were shining. He shook his head, smiling at the memory.
Alma felt a spasm of jealousy, and suppressed it. 'How exactly did she change the act?'
'She said it needed drama, so she sat among the audience and pretended to be sceptical of my powers. She announced that I was a fake. You should have heard the audience cheering when she left her seat and marched up the gangway to the stage to expose my trickery. And when my first attempt at clairvoyance was a failure, they stood up and applauded Lydia. Then there was utter silence as the next test worked. Such drama! Lydia's reactions were magnificent, worthy of melodrama at its best. While she was saucer-eyed with disbelief, I kept my mind on the performance, and finished it in style. At the end they cheered me to the echo.'
'And you married Lydia.'
He snapped out of his reverie. 'There was more to it than that.'
Alma waited, not wishing to seem as inquisitive as she felt.
'I played at the Empire for a week with Lydia and then we parted,' said Walter. 'She had other work in the legitimate theatre. So I returned to my less-than-brilliant mind-reading without her. It was quite depressing, but I had to scrape a living, and I knew no other. Then Lydia's father died and left her a considerable fortune, four theatres and two music halls. She was very busy as an actress, and management was all too much for her, yet she took it on gamely. She remembered me and engaged me at the Canterbury.' He laughed, i must have been terrible. She persuaded me to give it up and marry her. She financed my training as a dentist. She said the world needed dentists more than mind-readers.'
Alma could not contain herself. 'Excuse me for saying this, but you make your marriage sound like a business arrangement.'
He sprinkled pepper on his fillet of veal. 'Yes, that's what it is.'
There was silence between them. Alma dared not press him further, yet her mind was racing ahead.
At last he said, 'Perhaps you think I married her for her money.'
'Of course not.' She blushed deeply. 'I'm sure you love each other.'
'Love? I often wonder what is meant by love.'
'It's a kind of magic, isn't it? It's a power that overwhelms one.'
'I was never very good at magic,' Walter said.
'I'm sure it's unmistakable when it occurs.'
'Then I rather think that I was never in love with Lydia.'
She could not be certain from his beaming smile whether he was being candid with her. 'She's a beautiful woman,' Alma said. 'And she has great vitality.'
'You're extremely generous, considering that she attacked you.'
'To be fair, she had the right to take offence. She saw the scrapbook in my bag. She thought I must have taken it home to look at it.' Alma paused. 'She was right. I thought there might be something in it about you.'
He either missed or ignored her admission. 'Lydia has been under great strain for a long time,' he said. 'She has not been given a leading role since 1914. She attends auditions, but the parts are given to younger actresses of less experience. It makes me feel guilty.'
'Why is that?'
'You see, while her career has languished, mine has steadily improved. She got me started, paid for all my training, bought my equipment and set me up in Eaton Place. She still pays the rent for the surgery. It's a lot of money.'
'You mustn't blame yourself for being a success,' Alma said impetuously. 'You justified her confidence. She must have wanted you to be successful.'
'Yes, I'm sure she did.' His voice was generous, even tender.
Alma remembered her determination to remain serene. 'Then why feel guilty?'
Walter turned and looked at her. 'You're very kind. I haven't properly explained why she attacked you in the shop. The night before, we had an argument. That's not unusual. She has a lot of disappointments, and she relieves her feelings by breathing fire and fury on me. I can usually take it, but on this occasion she came out with
