'Great, back up on stage.'
The girls groaned but they followed me up to where the props were standing.
'Now what do you see?'
'Ahh,' Nixie’s voice was full of realisation. 'Eine Kiste.'
I looked at Sylvie.
'A box.'
'Correct. Observe.' I opened a flap exposing the compartment in the tabletop that was hidden from the audience by the sharp black angles on its tapered-under edges, revealing that although the table was only an inch thick along its white-painted rim it was deep enough at its centre to hold a slim woman lying flat. 'You lie in here, Nixie, hidden from view. I put the box on the table and help Sylvie into it. She surreptitiously pulls her knees up to her chest and you slide your legs up through the flap on the top of the table, sticking your feet out through the foot holes in the box so the audience think that they belong to Sylvie. Then voila, I wield my saw,' I grabbed the oversized saw lying on the ground next to me and shook it in the air generating a wobbling sound, 'and cut through the bit of balsa obligingly holding the two parts of the box together,' I started to saw through the balsa, letting them hear the metal rasp against the wood, 'until I’m able to separate the two halves,' I pushed the two ends of the fancy coffin apart, 'to reveal a head in one and wiggling feet in the other, making the crowd go crazy.' I held my arms up to the imaginary audience and grinned at the girls, but Nixie was whispering something to Sylvie, shaking her head. I asked, 'Was ist das problem?'
Sylvie sighed.
'The silly bitch says she can’t do it. She’s claustrophobic.'
Sylvie and I ran through every member of the company, but we already knew that Nixie was the only performer on staff slight enough to fit inside the tabletop.
'So that’s it then, fucked again.'
'Hey William, it’s not my fault.'
I kicked the trolley that the new box was lying on, sending it trundling towards the back of the stage.
'It was a fucking cliched piece of crap anyway.'
Sylvie caught the trolley and rolled it back down the rake towards me.
'You’ll work it out.'
I slammed the trolley again, sending it hurtling back the way it came, not watching where it went, simply taking relief in the act of hitting something. It juddered, almost losing its load, then against all odds regained its keel, sailing into backstage.
I said, 'Fuck.'
And moved to retrieve it just as there was a gasp and Ulla came from the wings pushing the trolley away from her. I took a step forward. 'Shit, sorry.'
Ulla rubbed her arm. Her voice was high and annoyed.
'We have to be careful here.'
'Sorry, Ulla, I didn’t mean to push it so hard.'
'The stage is a dangerous place.'
'Yeah, I know, sorry.'
Ulla had a pencil stuck in her hair and a sheaf of invoices tucked under her arm. Her frown made a small crease between her eyebrows. I wondered what she’d do if I reached out to smooth it away.
'I came to see if you had finished with the stage. There are others who would like to rehearse.'
'Yeah, you may as well tell them to go ahead.'
Ulla hesitated, noticing our dejection for the first time.
'Problem?'
Sylvie took a step back and looked her up and down.
'No,' She placed her arm around Ulla’s shoulders and levelled her gaze at me. 'I don’t think so, do you, William?'
My eyes slid down Ulla’s body. But I already knew the proportions of the German girl’s figure well enough to realise that Sylvie just might be right.
Ulla grasped the simple illusion straight away.
'But this is a very old trick, the audience will have seen it many times before.'
'Not the way William’s going to do it.'
Sylvie and I hadn’t discussed the razzle-dazzle surrounding the illusion, but her confidence was inspiring.
'That’s right, it’s going to have that classic Schall und Rauch twist, a super-sexy variation on the theme.'
Ulla looked worried.
'Will I have to wear a costume?'
'No, just something comfortable you can move easily in and,' I felt the back of my neck flush, 'an identical pair of shoes and stockings to the ones Sylvie’s chosen.'
