“This reminds me of my houseboat days…” Potty reminisced. “I discovered a leak and Shep the beetle had to learn the breaststroke in ten seconds. But it wasn’t sabotage, it was just a very old boat.”
“We’d better mop up the water right away,” said Esmé. “It’s going to damage the footlights – maybe more.”
There was a noise of a door slamming.
“What’s damaged?” asked Tabitha, walking purposefully into the auditorium with Twinkle.
The trouble with the Sea Spray was that all visitors could see and hear what was going before those on stage had noticed anyone arrive.
“Oh, my diddly dee!” cried Twinkle, rushing on to the stage, russet-coloured chiffon flowing behind her like a keen ghost. “What have you people done to our lovely theatre?”
“Not to worry,” said Monty brightly, trying to placate the Table sisters. “We’re used to Potty’s mess – in fact we’ve cleaned up after him many times before.”
“Many times before?” asked Tabitha, horrified. “You mean this happens constantly?”
“Oh, deary,” said Twinkle. “Not today…”
Potty opened his dripping arms out wide.
“Rest assured, fine gentlewomen. I must concede, we have just had a technical hitch but I can promise that we will not let this small hiccup ruin your building, or the show.”
Tabitha crossed her arms.
“Well, you’ll have to be quick,” she said, jaw clenched. “Mr Portobello has just phoned us – he’s due here in ten minutes to inspect the theatre in order to build his bid. We simply must have this place spick and span by then.”
An excerpt from
Dr Pompkins – Totality Magic
TRICK: Card Command
This is a short trick that will take minutes to learn, and never fails to impress the gentlefolk.
Take a pack of cards and find the Queen of Hearts. Place the card between thumb and index finger in your right hand, and raise that hand above your head.
Confidently inform your audience (of gentlefolk, that is) that the card is completely under your command, and will do anything you tell it to.
Now fling the card upwards, saying, “Card, I order you to come down!” or similar and, true to your will, it will do so every time. Hah hah!
Unless you have jam on your fingers, or glue.
Secrets
A magician is only as good as his or her secrets. If you have detailed your tricks in a notebook, keep it locked (as mentioned previously). Similarly, do not start revealing anything, even when you are talking to friends over coffee, not even fellow magicians. You have to be cunning, you have to be wily. Never disclose your tricks to a soul. A good friend of mine, Mr Pat Daniels, once thought it safe to tell a passing dog about a new card trick and in no time the pup – Mr Chihuahua – had become a worldwide success on the magic circuit.
In all totality,
Dr Pompkins
It was not a particularly bright or fine morning, but as Mr Portobello made his way up the beach to the Sea Spray Theatre he had a spring in his step. His meeting with his accountant and friend, David Dinner, had gone well. Mr Portobello was now sure that the plan of action they had put in place would mean that the Sea Spray Theatre would soon be his, quickly and – most importantly – cheaply.
“I need the show to fail, David,” Mr Portobello had explained, “or else people will flock to the Sea Spray and Potty will become a roaring success. Then the Table sisters will ask for a proper amount of money for the theatre, which I just don’t want to pay.”
Mr Portobello had paused, imagining a fat pile of money leaving his bank account.
“To make matters worse,” the businessman had continued, “Keith Chalk is now helping Potty build the props for his act. The show is going from strength to strength. We need to work out how I can still buy the theatre for peanuts, in order to knock it down and build my amusement arcade.”
“Hmm…” David Dinner had replied, picking up a toothpick from his desk and starting to chew. “Let’s go through the figures – what’s the lowest offer we could make?”
“A pound?”
David had sighed and the toothpick fallen out of his mouth on to the carpeted floor. “Come on, Mr Portobello, be sensible.”
In a surprising turn of events, David Dinner had picked the toothpick off the floor and put it back between his yellowing teeth.
“You must remember,” said David, chewing slowly, “that this is exactly the same thing that happened with Gary Meringue. We thought that there was no way we could ruin that show, but we managed to… deal with him.”
“I suppose we did…” said Mr Portobello.
“And even the police have stopped asking questions now,” added David. “He’s just another missing person. A misadventure at sea…”
“He’s very well behaved,” replied Mr Portobello. “I never hear a squeak out of him.”
“That’s good,” replied David. “Have you thought of inviting Potty back to Crab Pie Island? If so, you could, um, detain him for a while…”
“Well, of course I will if I have to, but the difference with Gary Meringue was that he didn’t have a niece and nephew with him,” said Mr Portobello. “He worked alone… but I can see those pesky Pepper children will make a nuisance of themselves if anything happens to their precious uncle.”
David had finally taken the pick out of his mouth and poured himself a cup of instant coffee from the pot on the side table. He had offered some to Mr Portobello, served in a chipped porcelain mug that had ‘Disco Daze’ printed on it.
“No, thanks,” said Mr Portobello. “It will keep me awake all night.”
“Suit yourself,” replied David, who started sipping his hot drink rather loudly. “It seems to me that you need some simple sabotage in the meantime. Just to be getting along with. Then if that doesn’t work, you know what to do.”
At which point David had raised his right eyebrow, knowingly.
Mr Portobello smiled to himself as he remembered the conversation. Mounting the theatre steps, he felt smug in the knowledge that his new plan had already been put into action. This morning he would make a cursory inspection of the Sea Spray knowing full well the scene that would greet him.
Mr Portobello was pleased to be right. Absolutely chuffed to bits. Before him was a picture of devastation. The stage floor was covered in water, despite the best efforts of everyone to clean it up. There was a huge plastic tank on its side with pieces of metal strewn everywhere. The Potty Magician was sneezing in a corner, drinking from a mug of hot cocoa as his niece and nephew fussed around him.
“Oh, dear,” said Mr Portobello, knowing this was the bedlam he had helped to create.
“It might look like a complete catastrophe, Mr Portobello,” Twinkle rushed up greet the visitor, “but we’ll have this cleaned up in an instant.”
“As soon as you can say ‘Abracadabra’,” added Tabitha, ardently.
“You should have seen the place half an hour ago,” said Keith. “We’ve made great inroads and we’re all sure that if we pull together, we’ll have the stage in a better state than it was in before.”
Mr Portobello stopped and surveyed the devastation. Yes, it was bad, but something else started to niggle. Instead of wallowing in dejection, Potty’s team seemed to be rising to the challenge.
“Have you got a dustpan, Tabitha?” Esmé asked as Tabitha mopped and Potty blow-dried the floorboards with a hairdryer. Keith was fiddling about with a screwdriver and the footlights while Twinkle and Monty together pushed the tank upright.
“I say only ten minutes until the next pot of tea!” laughed Potty, to which Twinkle made a joke about “Pott-tea” and everyone giggled.
Mr Portobello’s smug satisfaction drained from him faster than the water from the fish tank. He thought back to his conversation with David Dinner. If Plan A wasn’t working, he must resort to Plan B…
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you lot take a brea
k and come over to Crab Pie Island for a bit? Forget about the mess – relax and recuperate,” Mr Portobello purred, slicking back his oil-slick hair.
“But we need to finish cleaning up,” said Esmé.
“The Table girls can do that,” answered Mr Portobello. “Tabs – you will, won’t you?”
Tabitha – on hearing that she was now being called ‘Tabs’ – winced. Twinkle looked over at her as if to say, ‘Now you know how it feels.’
“I’m certain that Keith has the resources to fix the tank back at his workshop at Crab Pie,” continued Mr Portobello. “That way, everyone’s a winner,” he laughed lightly, for effect, then wished he’d cleaned his teeth this morning.
Esmé looked at Mr Portobello suspiciously. How does he know it was the tank that was the problem? she wondered.
“I need to sit down, dear,” Twinkle suddenly announced. “I’m having one of my turns.”
Indeed, Twinkle Table’s nose was twitching. Monty grabbed her a chair from the wings.
“Are you all right, Twinkle?” asked Keith. “Can I get you some water?”
“I can see another image… another vision…” said Twinkle in a low voice, eyes closed, chin on her chest.
Her head leant from side to side and her knees knocked together. Esmé was sure her ears started wiggling too.
“Woooah!” she murmured.
“Oh, dear,” said Tabitha. “This is her fourth vision in as many days.”
“Murghhhh…” Twinkle’s head rolled around a little more.
“She’s certainly having a bumper time of it.”
“Fluuuuurgh… I’m seeing a well-stocked fridge… and a packet of cheddar cheese,” mumbled Twinkle.
“Cheddar?” asked Tabitha. “Can you be so sure?”
“Oh, yes,” said Twinkle, head rolling around some more. “Oh, yeeeees.”
Twinkle murmured again as Tabitha suddenly held her fingers over her temples.
“Ooh!” Tabitha quivered. “Wooah!”
She grabbed Twinkle’s chair, as if she were about to faint.
“Someone, please, I also need a chair. I’m going under as well…”
“Are you having a vision too?” asked Monty. “How exciting. Two at once!”
“Golly, I mean… gosh… I think… Drooooouuu hurgle…” Tabitha’s nose started twitching and her head moved slowly from one side to the other. Her feet shuffled and her mouth pursed.
“A picture is forming in my mind…” whispered Tabitha, deeply. “It’s the face of… David Beckham… Ooh, no, it’s not. It’s the magician Gary Meringue! He’s hovering above us. He’s talking… But these are words I cannot quite make out.”
“Cheddar!” murmured Twinkle, happily.
“Meringue,” muttered Tabitha.
“Cheddar,” slurred Twinkle.
“It’s definitely Meringue,” croaked Tabitha and at once both ladies raised their hands straight ahead of them – and suddenly dropped them again.
There was silence.
Esmé had never seen anything like it. Monty had almost seen something like it on a TV programme but Mr and Mrs Pepper had told him it was too late and sent him off to bed. Potty had definitely seen something like it in 1972 when a well-known illusionist had skilfully hypnotised two Collie dogs and made them both speak Japanese.
The businessman, however, was not impressed. “Come on, you old dears.” He walked up the Tables and tapped both of them gently on the shoulder. “Wakey, wakey, rise and shine…”
Esmé did not like the way Mr Portobello spoke to them; it did not seem… respectful.
“Mr Portobello, they may have genuinely experienced some sort of spiritual phenomenon,” she said.
In reply, Mr Portobello peered at Esmé, aghast that a child was talking back to an adult. However, he tried to conceal his astonishment.
“Charming girl,” he said instead, pinching Esmé’s cheeks. “You are probably, er, right.”
“CHEDDAR!” shouted Twinkle once last time. Esmé jumped in surprise – and both sisters came to with a jolt.
Tabitha checked herself, looking down at her feet and feeling for her arms. “I cannot believe it,” she said. “I saw a vision too.”
“Yes, I know,” replied Twinkle. “Maybe it’s the stress.”
“I think everyone here is under a lot of stress.” Mr Portobello turned to Potty. “Let’s not waste any more time. The boat is waiting – let’s go to Crab Pie Island right away.”
“The boat I arrived in this morning?” asked Keith. “There’s no mooring rope.”
“Oh, really? I wonder how that happened?” said Mr Portobello innocently. “Don’t worry, we’ll take my yacht. Plenty of room for everyone.”
“Splendid,” said Potty, who was in excellent spirits. “It would be great to see your workshop, Keith.”
“And we do need to get the fishbowl fixed, I suppose,” said Esmé cautiously, though deep down she had a bad feeling about the trip.
Mr Portobello led the way out of the theatre, down the steps and on to the boat. Keith, Potty and Monty followed behind him, carrying the broken tank. The sky was brooding – even the seagulls were starting to take cover.
“An interesting weather front,” remarked Potty as they boarded the boat. “There may be no time for sunbathing.”
“Mr Portobello, what’s the difference between a boat and a yacht?” asked Monty as they prepared to leave for Crab Pie Island.
“Um… something to do with the… er, front bit,” replied Mr Portobello. “And the rate of c-force to dyno-knots.”
“Marvellous,” said Potty. “Let’s go.”
As the boat moved away, the skies darkened further and the sea became a little moody. Although Crab Pie Island was only a mile or so from the shore, they were sailing against the wind, which was certainly not going to help the journey.
“Will we be all right in this weather?” Esmé asked Mr Portobello. “It is rather windy.”
“No problemo,” answered Mr Portobello. “This boat is sturdy and strong. It can handle anything.”
“Maybe we’ll be stranded on the island!” laughed Monty.
Esmé glared at her brother. She didn’t want to be stranded anywhere. They had a show to do.
“What is this yacht called, Mr Portobello?” asked Monty. “They all have names, don’t they? Like the Sultan of Speed or The Oceanic Administrator.”
“It’s called The Titanic, actually. Ha ha hah!” answered Mr Portobello, taking the helm.
As the boat moved slowly forwards the waves got larger and the yacht began to yaw from side to side. Monty and Esmé held on tightly to the sides – and Keith gripped on to the tank. Sheets of icy rain began to fall from the dark skies. Thunder clapped. Esmé shivered next to Monty.
Despite what was going on around him, Mr Portobello appeared not to notice the storm and started to whistle as he steered the yacht through the hellish seas.
Esmé found this mostly peculiar. And slightly annoying.
Mr Portobello whistled a little more then shouted across to a wind-whipped Potty, “Do you ever worry about accidents at sea, Potts?”
Potty was matter-of-fact.
“No, I lived on a houseboat for many years. I never worry about the water.”
“Oh, well, that’s… good,” replied Mr Portobello, his nasal hair swirling in the harsh sea air.
A wave approached. A large wave. An enormous wave. It hurtled towards the boat, a huge sodden blanket of disaster.
“Wooargh!” said Mr Portobello.
The boat rolled to one side. Keith held on to the tank as hard as he could as everyone else gripped on to their seats. The boat almost flipped over but at the last moment it quickly reverted back to the horizontal with a watery thud.
The wave hurtled past, looking for new disasters. Esmé, Monty, Potty and Keith breathed very real sighs of relief.
“That was a close one,” said Mr Portobello, although he laughed as he spoke. “Still here, Potty?”
&n
bsp; A few minutes later, the yacht was safely docked at the island. But Esmé had an uneasy feeling. Why was Mr Portobello laughing like that? Esmé knew something was wrong but she just wasn’t sure what. She knew one thing though – she did not trust Mr Portobello one bit.
An excerpt from
Dr Pompkins – Totality Magic
TRICK: The Unpoppable Balloon
Show your friends a fully blown-up balloon, then remark how you will be able to stick a pin into it without it deflating!
The secret is to prepare your balloon first with sticky tape – take a few small pieces and stick them on, making sure each does not wrinkle.
If you stick a pin through the centre of the tape, the balloon will not pop.
A balloon with a patterned surface will keep the sticky tape at its most invisible.
Party Magic
If your friends have enjoyed your table-top magic, they may ask you to put on a show at a party. At small parties you can perform close-up magic, but if there are lots of people you should put on a proper stage act.
Tips to remember:
There will always be people who will ask you to keep on doing more and more tricks, but it is better to do a short routine, finishing with a really strong effect – then you can save some of your surprises for the next party.
Remember that the most popular tricks are those in which the spectators take part. Welcome their input. Savour the joy. Maybe they will give you an extra cream bun and a glass of cherry pop for all your effort.
In all totality,
Dr Pompkins
The storm had reduced visibility so greatly that it was only when the visitors moored by the beach that they saw what a strange house Mr Portobello lived in. As Mr Portobello ushered them through a door in an imposing metal fence, a peculiar, towering building emerged out of the sand. The house was puzzling – the ground floor was a modest size and was connected to Keith’s workshop – but as the building continued upwards to the fourth floor it became wider. It was like an upside-down wedding cake.
The Peppers and the Island of Invention Page 4
