'Come on, I’ll get you a beer then I’d best check on the wean.'
The kitchen was large and homely with a scrubbed-pine table at its centre. I sat there nursing the bottle of weak French lager Johnny had given me, trying not to listen to him talking to his sleeping daughter on the baby intercom. When he came back he was smiling.
'How old is she?'
'Ten months.'
'Congratulations. Next thing you know you’ll be getting married.'
'You always had an uncanny knack for prediction. Date’s set for July. Have a seat. My affianced won’t be in for a while yet.' I resolved to be gone before Eilidh came home.
Johnny reached into the fridge, helping himself to a beer. 'What are you up to right now?'
'Nothing much.'
'Nothing much or nothing at all?'
'Why d’you want to know?' I took out my cigarettes then hesitated. 'Is it OK to smoke?'
'Eilidh’s not so keen on it in the house.' I slid them back in my pocket. John looked at me and laughed. 'You’ll get me shot, William.' He reached into a cupboard and selected a saucer. 'Here, use this.'
'Sure?'
He opened the window above the sink.
'Course.'
'Want one?'
'More than my life’s worth mate. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Are you working?'
'Why’re you so interested?'
'Apart from the usual social niceties? I might have a gig for you.'
Johnny leaned back in his kitchen chair and started to tell me what he had in mind.
Berlin
THE SCHALL UND RAUCH’S joiner had made a fine job of the task I’d set him. The box was perfect; a shiny metallic blue, decorated with a zodiac motif of constellations and multi-ringed Saturns that would shine from the stage and draw the audience’s eyes from other distractions.
Sylvie stood on stage in the empty auditorium next to Nixie the hula-hoop girl, while I explained how the trick would work.
'OK ladies, this is a classic illusion, I am going to slice my elegant assistant Sylvie here in half, and you, Nixie, are going to be the legs of the operation.'
Nixie looked bewildered, Sylvie translated and the hula girl’s giggle followed a beat after.
'OK,' I wheeled out the box and lifted its lid, 'Sylvie this is where you go, head and hands sticking out the wee holes in this end, feet poking out the other.' Sylvie and Nixie looked at the box. 'OK?'
Sylvie nodded.
'OK.'
'Right, Nixie.' I smiled at the blonde girl. 'Unfortunately, you’re not going to get the benefit of the audience’s applause, but you are going to get the satisfaction of knowing you’ve been instrumental in successfully pulling off one of the classic illusions in the conjurer’s calendar.'
I looked at Sylvie. She rolled her eyes and started to translate. Nixie listened, her eyes widening, then collapsed in giggles, putting her hand over her mouth as if scandalised at her own amusement.
I asked, 'What did you say?'
Sylvie’s expression was innocent.
'I just repeated what you said, you’re a very funny man, William.'
There had been no awkwardness between us after our drunken celebrations. Sylvie had simply said, 'Well I guess that got that out of the way.' And I’d agreed, both of us laughing, relieved that the other wasn’t offended.
I’d wanted to ask her about the fat man. He’d called her by the wrong name, but Suze and Sylvie didn’t seem so different to me and I remembered a quick flash of panic in Sylvie’s eyes that could have been surprise, or could have been recognition. I’d kept my thoughts to myself and though I’d pulled the guts out of her at ten fifteen precisely every night for a week since, nothing had passed between us that would have scandalised even the pope’s maiden aunt. Still, the memory of Sylvie’s body stayed with me, making me glance away from her as I went onto the next bit of my explanation.
'OK, let’s go down to the stalls.' The girls followed me, chatting in German. 'So what do you see standing next to Sylvie’s box?'
'You make me sound like a puppet.'
I gave Sylvie a look, she translated my question and Nixie replied.
'Einen Tisch.'
Sylvie singsonged, 'A table.'
