Shamanka

by Jeanne Willis

  “Do you sleep with your mask on?” asks Sam.

  “What mask?”

  It could be a weary attempt at a joke. But trust no one.

  THE MAGIC CHAMBER TRICK

  The masked magician’s assistant climbs into a box. The lid is closed, and with a wave of a wand the magician says, “Be gone!” The box is tilted towards the audience with both hands and the lid is opened. Hey presto! – the box is empty. How?

  THE SECRET

  You need: a large cardboard box, extra cardboard, strong tape, black paint, a little friend.

  1. Cut out the bottom of the box leaving a lip on three sides.

  2. Cut a false bottom from another piece of cardboard. Fit it in the box and attach with a hinge of tape. Tape on a handle.

  3. Cut or tape together a one-piece cardboard top.

  4. Paint the whole thing black.

  continued over

  HOW TO DO THE TRICK

  Your magic chamber has a false bottom. When you tip the box forward, the box slides over your assistant, who pulls the hinged bottom shut by holding the handle. Your assistant is now crouched down, hidden behind the box, but to your audience, she’s vanished!

  1.

  2.

  3.

  THE MAGICIAN’S ASSISTANT

  It is dawn. The Cat Barge has grown a platform of foliage near the top of the mast. It’s Lola’s nest; she is asleep inside, cuddling her monkey. In the rainforest, she’d have slept in the trees, building a new nest every day. She’s used to sleeping in Sam’s bed now, but, last night, she wanted to sleep under the stars.

  Kitty is up before Sam. Maybe she’s an early riser or maybe she didn’t want to be caught without her mask on. I know the feeling.

  Sam is still asleep. In the night, she dreamt that her mother was lying in a box painted in the Egyptian style. She was wearing pink gloves and her hands were crossed over her heart. She was alive and beautiful – not a bit how Aunt Candy had described her. Sam had cried out, “Mother!”

  She’d woken in a sweat then struggled to go back to sleep, desperate to return to her dream. Instead, she slipped into a nightmare: she thought she saw her mother in the same box, but this time her gloves were purple with blood and, when Sam cried out, the woman snapped open her green eyes and snickered, “Surprise… I’m Candy!”

  Sam sits upright and screams. Lola is below deck and by her side before you can say Pongo pygmaeus.

  Kitty appears with a cup of coffee. “What’s wrong? Have you had a night horse?”

  Sam grabs her by the shoulders. “Did my mother bleed to death? Was she stabbed through the heart?”

  “No, there was no blood – it was red oink.”

  “Red ink?” It makes no sense. How did Kitty even know her mother?

  Kitty perches on the end of the cabin bed and adjusts her mask. “Drink this and I’ll tell you.”

  “I hate coffee.”

  Sam drinks it anyway. She takes a great gulp every time Kitty comes up with a new revelation; it helps to wash down things that would otherwise stick in her throat. I will now tell you exactly what Kitty told Sam as the sun rose like a fried egg over Eel Pie Island.

  When John and Lola first arrived at the warehouse, Kitty kept her distance. Like many artists, she needed solitude to create and what she created was mostly cat-sized sarcophagi – highly decorated coffins similar to the ones found inside pyramids. The warehouse was home to lots of cats. If one died, Kitty mummified it and placed it into a sarcophagus, along with a carved mouse and a tin of tuna to be enjoyed in the afterlife. It bothers me that she forgot to include a tin-opener, but perhaps, if there is an afterlife for cats, there’s someone there who opens tins for them.

  While Kitty practised her art at one end of the warehouse, John practised magic at the other. But as the Dark Prince’s doves escaped yet again, splattering droppings all over her sarcophagi, she decided enough was enough; she wasn’t prepared to put up with random acquaintances of Bart Hayfue’s cluttering up her warehouse with magician’s paraphernalia. It just wasn’t on.

  Kitty didn’t say any of this though; John was so handsome, she would always forget what she’d come to tell him off about. He was so charming, he only had to catch a woman’s eye and she wanted to mother him or marry him. Kitty wanted to mother him, and when John told her he had no mother, she felt it was her moral duty to care for him.

  Although he was managing to scrape a living by performing illusions on the street, John’s lack of income bothered him. Kitty said it didn’t matter, she could keep them both by selling her carvings; but he was fiercely proud and insisted on paying his own way. One night, unable to sleep for worrying, he confessed that he needed to think of a way to raise enough money to travel the world. His father had given him some pearls to sell, but these were for emergencies. Kitty didn’t want him to leave and asked him why the hurry. He was on a mission, he said. He’d been away for two years already and hardly begun. If his father died before he completed it, the consequences would be too terrible to contemplate.

  Kitty put her mind to the problem and had a brainwave. She’d make him a magic box; a sarcophagus large enough for a woman to fit inside. He could use it along with a sword to create a death-defying illusion. And that would be just the beginning! Together, they would create a fantastic magic show: she would make his props, he would invent new and wonderful illusions. They would invite an agent to see his act, right here in the warehouse.

  Forget the streets, the agent would be so impressed, he’d book John into all the best theatres. There would be a real stage. A beautiful assistant. He could join the Magic Circle and become the greatest magician in London. He would be invited to travel far and wide – all expenses paid – and, in between shows, he could visit the people on his father’s list. How famous he would become. How proud his father will be.

  John, who was unduly modest about his talent, wasn’t sure if any of this would happen but Kitty seemed so certain, so excited, he was willing to give it a try. But where to begin?

  First, he needed a glamorous assistant. John wondered if Lola could take on the role, but apart from the fact that she didn’t look her best in a sequinned gown, it was decided that it would be better to employ her in other ways, for the following reasons:

  1. Orang-utans are shorter and more agile than human assistants and can be easily hidden in places an audience would never expect.

  2. Orang-utans are excellent climbers and can hide up in the roof, manipulating mirrors, hanging upside down by their feet, if necessary.

  3. Orang-utans are intelligent and, having very long arms, can be trained to release trap doors and operate secret compartments that a human assistant could never reach.

  Lola could help perform all sorts of tantalizing illusions that could never be accomplished if she weren’t an ape – and not realizing an ape was on stage (for John would take care to keep her hidden), no one would ever guess how the tricks had been done.

  Lola was invaluable, but he needed to find a beautiful human assistant. Apart from passing props and climbing into boxes, he needed her to act as a distraction and misdirect the audience’s eye away from him while he was performing his magic. Kitty knew someone who would be ideal for the job; someone who’d worked in a circus and was particularly flexible. However, she was hesitant to suggest her because the woman was a little unhinged, to say the least.

  “Let’s risk it,” said John. “She can’t be that awful.”

  Famous last words, Dark Prince! John might have been brought up the Western Way but he was far too trusting where women were concerned. He believed they were all essentially good, like his mother; but this woman wasn’t. Her name? Candy Khaan.

  John hired her on the spot. Candy wafted into the warehouse with her blonde hair flowing over her slim shoulders and smiled at him with perfect teeth. When he asked her to climb into a magic box, she folded into it as prettily as a petticoat and he was sold.

  They should have nailed the lid down there
and then and thrown the box into the Thames. It would have saved everyone a lot of heartache, but Kitty didn’t know just how twisted Candy had become.

  People don’t become twisted without good reason though. Candy had been badly treated by a man in her past. She’d fallen in love with the circus ringmaster. He’d asked her to marry him, but on their wedding day he jilted her for Lorna the Lion Tamer; the humiliation was too much.

  Devastated, Candy had climbed onto the trapeze, hung by her feet, then deliberately let go; there was no safety net. As she plunged head-first into the sea lion pool, the audience roared with laughter, thinking she was a clown. No bones were broken but her failed suicide left her with a shattered ego and a warped brain, and she became greedier and needier than ever.

  Kitty was soon to learn how dangerous she’d become, but, by then, it would be too late. For a while, Candy managed to conceal her psychotic nature and set about wooing the innocent John Tabuh with all the charm she could muster. Before the month was out, she announced their engagement and moved into the warehouse.

  Kitty had taken John aside and insisted the engagement was far too soon. The woman John Tabuh had fallen in love with wasn’t the real Candy; it was an illusion. But he couldn’t see it. Even magicians can’t see beyond the mirror when they’re in love.

  As soon as Candy had John’s ring on her finger, she changed; she became rude and demanding. She would turn up late for rehearsals. She’d ruin tricks and blame it on Lola, but if Kitty complained, John defended Candy, insisting that she was passionate, not aggressive; a perfectionist, not a tyrant. He said it even though she was making him miserable, because he thought he loved her.

  When Candy threw a tantrum and demanded new stage clothes, John said she could hire a wardrobe mistress. She suggested her own sister, knowing, no doubt, that she could bully her into producing a lifetime’s supply of frocks and a free wedding dress.

  Christa was every bit as beautiful as Candy. They were identical twins. Physically, it was impossible to tell them apart, but there the similarity ended. Christa was modest, gentle and full of compassion, and as time passed the scales fell from John Tabuh’s eyes and he realized that he didn’t love Candy at all; he loved Christa.

  John and Christa couldn’t stop loving each other. They tried to for Candy’s sake, even though she was a monster. Christa knew how hurt she’d been and didn’t want to be the cause of more suffering. Kitty encouraged their affair. She’d never seen John so happy and would cover for him while he slipped off to meet Christa at her flat in St Peter’s Square.

  Candy had no idea what was going on, but one day, when John had been out on “business”, Christa came back to the warehouse glowing with kisses. Candy knew the signs of a woman in love and demanded to know who her boyfriend was. Caught on the hop, Christa said that he was an Intrepid Explorer called Bingo Hall.

  Nine months later, she gave birth to a girl; something of a miracle as she’d been told she could never have children. The baby was called Sam. She had her mother’s fine features and her father’s blond streak in her dark hair, which Christa kept covered with a bonnet; if Candy saw it, she’d guess John was the father and who knows what she would do.

  “She’d kill herself!” Christa had cried. Although she loved John with a passion, she insisted their affair must stop and begged him to marry Candy as he’d promised. It was the last thing he wanted but, as he couldn’t bear to see Christa consumed with guilt, he agreed.

  Unfortunately the truth has a habit of getting out. The baby was lying in a cot in the warehouse – Christa had only left her for a few minutes to fetch some sequins – when along came Candy. Gloating with happiness because John had finally set a date for their wedding, she took the baby out of the cot and whirled her around like an aeroplane. As she did so, the bonnet slipped off.

  Only Kitty saw it happen and recoiled in horror. Candy had seen the blonde streak in Sam’s hair and realized in an instant that she was not the Intrepid Explorer’s baby.

  She was John’s.

  HOW TO SAW A LADY IN HALF

  The masked magician’s assistant lies down in a box with her head and feet sticking out. The magician appears to saw her in half. The halves are separated, yet she steps out all in one piece. How?

  THE SECRET

  There are several versions of this illusion. Here, the assistant simply curls up to avoid the blade. The feet are false ones activated by a motor.

  THE MAGIC BOX

  Let’s return briefly to the barge to see how Sam is reacting to Kitty’s story. She has finished the coffee and Lola is licking the last drops out of the cup. The cats have settled on Sam like a furry duvet, and if it wasn’t for the soporific effect of their purring, she wouldn’t be nearly as calm.

  Besides which, the collective weight of tortoiseshells,

  tabbies and Burmese is preventing her from doing much.

  “It was a crime of passion,” continues Kitty. “Candy was jealous. She saw an opportunity and struck. It happened when John asked her to reverse the box truck with him the next moaning.”

  By which she meant rehearse the box trick, an illusion that is simple but ingenious:

  1. Lovely assistant climbs into box. Lid is closed.

  2. Magician plunges real sword into the box – seemingly straight into assistant’s heart.

  3. Magician spins box, then opens it.

  4. Assistant steps out smiling and unperforated.

  This trick has been performed many times but rarely with a real sword. Usually, a magician uses a trick sword; the blade snaps back into the hilt under the slightest pressure so it can’t pierce the victim. Or he swaps the sword for a rubber one. If a real sword is used, the box is made big enough for the assistant to roll out of the way of the blade.

  John’s trick was different. His box was very narrow, even for someone as slim as Candy. The sword was real; there was no room for even the tiniest assistant to escape the deadly blade by shifting sideways.

  In fact, the box was deeper than it looked; an optical illusion achieved by painting lines on the lid which tricked the eye into thinking it was flat, rather than bowed.

  Kitty had tailor-made the box to fit Candy. It was just deep enough for her to grab hold of two rings screwed into the underside of the lid, hidden in the lining. These rings gave her enough leverage to flip herself over so that her legs were at the opposite end of the box. To picture the movement, imagine a snake doing a head-over-heels.

  John could then thrust his sword into the box knowing that Candy’s heart was up the other end and that the blade would slip safely through the gap between her knees. He’d then spin the box, giving Candy time to flip back again. When he opened the lid, she was in the same position as when the audience last saw her; they’d never work out how she’d cheated death.

  Timing is everything; if you practise the manoeuvre twenty times a day for weeks on end, you’ll escape without a scratch. But if you’re a novice? The trick is lethal.

  With that in mind, Candy interrupted her sister from her sewing and told her that she couldn’t possibly rehearse the box trick today, she had to shop for wedding shoes. Would Christa be an angel and stand in for her? Oh, please, darling, before someone else buys them. If Christa wore her costume – the pink silk with the matching gloves – and just climbed into the magic box and kept her mouth shut, John would never realize they’d swapped places. “It’s perfectly safe,” she told her. “It’s only a pretend sword. Just breathe in and stay still.” She never mentioned that the only way to avoid being stabbed was to grab the rings and flip herself over – a move her sister could never have mastered.

  Christa didn’t have the heart to say no. She let Candy lace her tightly into the costume and hurried to the rehearsal. Little did Candy know that Kitty had overheard her giving Christa the wrong instructions, and as soon as she left to go shopping, Kitty ran to the make-shift stage in the basement to warn John. But to her horror, Christa was already inside the box and there was the Dark Prin
ce, sword raised, ready to plunge it straight through the lid.

  “Stop!” Kitty screamed. “It’s not Candy in the box! It’s Christa.”

  She opened the box and helped the bewildered Christa back onto her feet. She’d been seconds from death, and when she learnt that Candy had plotted for her to die under John’s sword, she collapsed. The Dark Prince was aghast. Why would Candy do such an evil thing to her own sister?

  “She saw Sam’s blonde streak,” Kitty told him. “She knows you’re the father, John.”

  Christa, somewhat delirious, began to panic. “We have to convince Candy that he isn’t or she’ll kill herself!”

  It might seem odd that Christa was so concerned about her sister’s welfare after what she’d just done. Plotting to kill someone in cold blood is bad enough; tricking your fiancé into doing the dirty deed for you is unspeakable. Even so, Christa felt she was to blame, despite John insisting it was all his fault. Seeing her in such distress and not knowing what to do, he asked Kitty for help.

  Kitty’s plan was bizarre, but there was a chance it might work. She fetched red ink, black ink and an onion; props they would use to trick Candy into believing John had killed Christa. There was no time to explain the logic behind it; they just had to follow her instructions. Christa was to climb back into the box and play dead. John was to rehearse the lines he would say to Candy. Meanwhile, Kitty busied herself with the details necessary to complete the illusion.

  When Candy returned, she found John Tabuh slumped over the box, grieving for his fiancée.

  “I have killed Candy, the only girl I have ever loved!”