Of course there were many who didn’t believe that Nancy had been registered as blind at birth, aware that this made the act even more impossible, thinking that this was just a brilliantly constructed piece of backstory with which the dynamic duo could sell their act to even the surliest of sceptics. But no, it was true: doctors, physicians and opticians from across the globe would examine Nancy’s eyes live onstage every night, many travelling thousands of miles just for the chance of finding some evidence of deception. They had all been forced to confirm the simple and sad truth of it: Nancy was completely and utterly blind, and no amount of conjuring could change that grim reality.
Still, even had Nancy her eyesight, that couldn’t explain the fact that – despite facing the other way, and with no mirrors present and without the benefit of some hidden camera or other (not that the occupants of the Grand Theatre of the Magic Circle in 1926 knew about those futuristic devices yet!) – she somehow knew exactly what object her dear husband held in his hands. Even when he had journeyed way up into the gods, making use of the theatre’s newly installed amplification system so he could still be heard, leaving Nancy standing alone onstage – all eyes focused on her perfect frame – even then she was able to speak in unfathomable detail of the object clasped tightly between her husband’s fingers. An engagement ring, a book – by Dickens, the red bookmark currently placed at page 372 – a locket containing a picture of a lady named Anne who is standing next to a pony, a small key connected to a purple purse …
And so it went on, until audiences began to believe that perhaps the two really did share a telepathic gift, one that defied the laws of physics and nature – for there was no other explanation. Surely. Of course, the magicians in the audience thought they had it sussed, that Ron and Nancy were somehow communicating via code, or that he was able to secretly get the message to her by means of some special device. But then what about those times when Ron merely picked up an object and didn’t say a single word? No, that had baffled even the most well-versed magicians of the day.
Stooges,fn2 others would cry – surely everyone who handed Ron an object was in on it, and Nancy was just recalling some predetermined order of objects from memory? But no, anyone – literally anyone among the hundreds packed into the theatre, and they came in their droves – could hand Ron an object, and Nancy would get it right every single time. There was no identifiable solution. And, since Ron and Nancy had both passed away some time ago, their beautiful secret – if indeed there ever was a secret to be learned – had been buried with them and now only existed in stories like these. Trapped and extraordinary – almost undoubtedly how they would have wanted. That is, until someone worked it out!
Alex, Zack and Jonny sat, enraptured, as Sophie finished off her tale. None of them had heard anything like it! And to think such brilliant magic was being performed nearly a hundred years ago. Alex liked to imagine that, if Ron and Nancy Spencer were still alive today, they would have approved and enjoyed the company of the Young Magicians and their passion for bold, brilliant and bewildering magic.
‘I know this might sound like stating the obvious,’ said Jonny, his head cocked to one side to avoid lifting the table he was sitting gawkily beneath and giving their hiding place away, ‘but I really do love magic!’
‘I’d love to know how they did it!’ said Zack, clearly already trying to find a weak spot in the description, searching for a solution but finding none.
‘Well, no one’s sussed it in a hundred years, so good luck, mate!’ said Sophie, winking.
Surely Sophie knew better than to goad a magician like Zack with something like this! Solving unsolvable magical mysteries was Zack’s bread and butter. But then even Zack, with his wickedly divergent brain, couldn’t claim to have any clue as to how Ron and Nancy Spencer had given the impression of harbouring some telepathic power, especially back then when the best modern technology had to offer was a rudimentary microphone – no keyhole cameras or smartphones with retina HD displays allowed here, thank you very much. Yet hadn’t there been something in Sophie’s description of the effect that had stood out to him for some reason, that hinted – as always – that they were perhaps looking in precisely the wrong place for a solution …?
A bing-bong sound, like that which might indicate the seat-belt sign on board a jumbo jet coming on to signify heavy turbulence, interrupted Zack’s train of thought, causing the four to sit up – Jonny banging his head on the underside of the table noisily in the process.
To their amusement, the sound had actually been made by the bonkers Eric Diva, who not only enjoyed the sound of his own voice, it would seem, but also enjoyed the sound of announcing his own voice!
‘Bing-bong! Will all conventioneers please note that a buffet lunch will be served at one p.m. in the Montpellier Room – great, wicked, thanks, bye! Bing-bong!’
Zack, Jonny, Sophie and Alex looked at each other hungrily. LUNCH!
6
1 P.M.
The fancily named Montpellier Room was back at ground level in the main part of the hotel. When they got there, they found it was actually as sterile a room as the countless others they’d come across these past few hours. It was as if the atmosphere of reception were a fungus, spreading in every direction along the passages leading out from it. The room’s walls were another hostile shade of white, with patches of yellowing damp spreading out from the corners like angry tentacles. Directly opposite them, at the back of the room, were a series of French doors which rattled and creaked as the storm continued to rage outside, like the weather was doing its best to make itself known, the trees swaying from side to side like angry fists.
But it was the smell that was the most striking thing about the room. It smelled of absolutely every cuisine going all at once – a bit like an overused slow cooker. Or as if every school dinner in the country had been squeezed into one room – that smell!
The four Young Magicians ambled between the small circular tables that had been set out haphazardly – like someone had tried to break a world speed record when laying them out – towards the side of the room where a hundred steaming trays were bubbling away enticingly.
Zack and Jonny scoured them hungrily with their eyes.
‘Where to start?’ Jonny wondered.
‘Maybe a bit of everything?’ Zack suggested. ‘Race you!’
‘Challenge accepted!’
They started to load up their plates. Jacket potatoes, spaghetti Bolognese, chilli con carne, ham and eggs, Thai green curry, CHICKEN LASAGNE!
The room was starting to fill up now as some of the more vocal members shuffled in, already complaining about this, that and the other, both hungry and tired from a day of … well, so far doing nothing but complaining, with many now raising an additional eyebrow at the sight of the Young Magicians.
Alex’s face started to burn as he tried to focus on loading up his plate with every morsel of food going, regardless of the clashing combinations.
Sophie kept her eyes peeled for Belinda Vine as she approached the food counter. She still intended to take Belinda up on her invitation of meeting – but it would have to be in the right way at the right time, and who knew what bad impression she might make if she were eating the wrong thing? Sophie pondered for a second what dish Belinda might choose – probably something quite light, Sophie figured a little sheepishly as she eyed up the giant portion of sausage and mash set inside an even more giant Yorkshire pudding and which came with its own jug – its own jug – of rich, velvety onion gravy.
Oh, and then there were the desserts: treacle pudding, chocolate gateaux, toffee sundaes – poor President Pickle, thought Sophie, imagining the man melting into a deep pool of his own saliva should he clap eyes on such a delectable bounty as this.
Seeing all the food laid out brought him back to mind – and the mystery of whatever was bugging him, and the tantalizing riddle of that torn-up note that obviously meant so much to Cynthia and nothing at all to the Young Magicians. There was no sign
of him, but then he wouldn’t stand a chance against this lot! No, this certainly wasn’t the place to dabble in a light snack. Maybe Tudor Towers had its perks after all!
Sophie picked up a large serving spoon and was about to help herself when a thin, firm hand gripped her shoulder. She turned, coming face to face with a beaming Eric Diva who looked like he’d just got into a cold bath.
‘I am so sorry! I should have said in my announcement. Bing-bong! Junior members have a separate dining area in the Syd Little Memorial Pantry – this room is just for the adults!’
‘Oh …’ said Sophie, casually putting down the serving spoon, a little embarrassed, but not as much as Jonny and Zack, who had just finished loading their plates with every single item going – even all the desserts.
‘Riiiiiiiiiight,’ said Jonny, trying to style it out and hastily return all the different morsels to their respective serving trays without drawing any attention – kind of difficult, given the sheer volume of food he’d taken!
‘Oh, but you know what,’ said Eric Diva, a little too hastily, like he’d planned to amend his comment all along, ‘as it’s you four – go ahead!’
Jonny sighed and began the rather arduous task of reclaiming the items of food (plus the relevant sauces) which had now travelled from the serving platters, to his plate, back to the serving platters and now back to his plate – making one hell of a dribbly mess.
‘In fact,’ continued Eric Diva, ‘maybe I could join you?’
‘Er … sure,’ said Sophie, not quite knowing whether she should seem grateful or a bit deflated.
‘Excellent – two secs!’ Eric Diva darted off like a startled fox as Sophie turned a trifle apologetically to the others.
‘Maybe he’ll know what’s going on with President Pickle,’ whispered Zack, never one to waste an opportunity to gather information.
That’s true, thought Sophie as she reacquainted herself with the food on display, her tummy growling happily.
The four quickly took their seats at a table close to the jangling French windows, somewhat glad of the breeze forcing its way through the gaps, diluting the various pongs of the room, which had started to grow stronger as more and more members piled in.
Zack smiled as he noticed Alex produce a pack of cards. This was how Alex filled even the briefest of quiet moments – with practice, practice and more practice.
Alex shuffled the cards like a mini-maestro, before dealing them into a pile on the table. Zack raised an eyebrow in surprise as Alex dropped a couple of cards, not used to seeing a grandmaster finger-flicker like Alex stumble, especially when performing such a simple operation as a standard table deal. But then Zack had learned all too well that looks could be deceiving. Maybe that’s just how Alex wanted it to appear.
But enough wondering: there was food to be eaten. Zack reached for the salt and pepper, sprinkled a sprinkle on his food, put them back and happily picked up his knife and fork. Then he frowned, put the knife and fork down, and slowly picked the saltcellar up again.
It was a squished-up human figure, a caricature like a toby jug. But it was still recognizable. A flat-top haircut, a jacket and a big grin, exactly like …
‘You’re kidding!’ he wheezed. ‘We’re condiments! How much are these people rinsing us for?!’
He was interrupted by Eric Diva plonking himself down with a small plate of salad and some sliced avocado. Where’s the fun in that? thought Jonny, who had reluctantly had to fit his meal on to two plates in the end – though he was already regretting having baked beans and Thai green curry swimming in the same gloopy pool.
‘Wow, what a treat getting to share a table with the Young Magicians!’ said Eric.
Zack handed him the saltcellar without comment, but sporting a somewhat menacing scowl. Eric Diva took it, his eyes widening.
‘Wow! Not authorized?’
‘Nope,’ countered Zack. ‘And we’ve seen more stuff like it.’
‘OK – well, you certainly have to look out for that. You need an agent, someone who will safeguard your image against unauthorized piracy.’ He studied his fingernails with a display of modesty that was almost but not quite convincing. ‘Of course, I’d be happy – no, honoured – to take the job on …?’
Zack opened his mouth to answer, but Sophie got there first.
‘Can we think about it?’ she said quickly.
Eric Diva smiled and nodded in approval. ‘No, absolutely – always read the small print! Just bear me – the offer – in mind,’ he said, positively glowing and throwing a salad leaf into his mouth like a particularly cool rabbit. ‘So tell me … what have you been up to lately?’
‘Well,’ began Zack, ‘we’re still at school obviously.’
‘No, of course, sure!’ Eric Diva laughed noisily, and quite unnecessarily. ‘I meant in the world of solving magical mysteries – obviously!’ Sophie detected a stray note of impatience in his tone that seemed somewhat out of line with the man’s stand-out breezy exterior.
‘We did wonder,’ began Jonny, pausing for a second to slurp up an extra-long piece of spaghetti, the sauce gathering prominently around his lips, ‘what on earth President Pickle was going on about during his opening speech?’
Eric Diva nodded, like he was deeply troubled, or at least trying to give the impression that he was deeply troubled.
‘It was very strange, wasn’t it? I hope he’s OK. Though I won’t deny there are some on Council who would rather see him go, to make way for – well – fresh blood like yourselves.’
Alex didn’t quite like the way the man referred to them as fresh blood; it felt a bit … creepy. But, then again, perhaps that was because Alex was now eating an overly filled strawberry jam doughnut, the red gooey contents oozing out of the end theatrically, making him feel a touch vampiric.
‘So how did you get into magic?’ asked Sophie, having finished her plate and pushing it forward, a habit she’d inherited from her father – apparently. Not that she could really remember who her father was, but that’s what her mother had told her he used to do.
‘Well, you’ve probably spotted there’s a bit of performer still left in me?’ mused Eric, leaving a slight pause which could only suggest that he was looking for some kind of affirmation.
‘Yes!’ answered the four in unison.
‘That was always my first love. I started in the bingo halls and basically worked my way down from there! Did the cruise ships for a while, bit of magic here and there, some cod impersonations, bit of ventriloquism – and I was so rubbish at that, frankly, it was just embarrassing – bit of gambling all my earnings away. Whoops!’ He grimaced at them like these weren’t particularly happy times.
‘But then something clicked and I finally got into my thick head what you all worked out years ago, I expect – that to be good at anything takes time and application, even if you have a natural gift to start with, which I certainly didn’t. So I put in some decent practice, I managed to find my way out of that rut, and – well – here I am today: your convention organizer extraordinaire!’ He sat back, looking a touch proud of himself.
‘Well, good for you!’ said Jonny, warming to the strange man a little. It had to be no mean feat organizing a convention for a few hundred complaining magicians, booking acts from all across the world, negotiating their fees and trying to turn a profit. And, for all his bluster, Eric Diva seemed to be managing just fine. Not that the four of them had attended any conventions previous to this, but they were all having a good time at least.
A shadow fell over them as a soft, sultry Southern US accent delicately split the air like a sweet perfume. ‘Why, hey, guys!’
Sophie froze. No, surely not! Not here, not when she probably still smelled of jacket potato!
But yes. There she was. Belinda Vine, towering over them, looking magnificent in her clinging red dress, like some glorious mermaid (but with legs). She grinned at the four of them as Sophie tried not to fidget and blush. Sophie looked in desperation at Zack, Jonny an
d Alex who – for all their previous nonchalance – also seemed thunderstruck now that the prospect of actually meeting this magical superstar had become a reality.
Sophie very quickly rearranged the tufts of hair on her fringe that she’d gelled expertly into several spiky peaks that morning, as her thoughts tumbled. What if Belinda hated the lot of them? What if she was actually saying hello to someone else – that was always spectacularly embarrassing and happened spectacularly frequently! What if …
‘Belinda!’ Eric Diva rose smoothly to his feet, hand held out, like he was a gentleman aboard the Titanic. ‘So good to meet you in the flesh at last, after all the emailing back and forth! Eric Diva, and let me introduce you to the newest and brightest stars in magic. Belinda, please meet Sophie, Jonny, Alex and Zack.’
All four Young Magicians shot to their feet as Belinda offered her hand to each of them, Sophie frantically trying to dry her palm on the cuffs of her jumper before holding out her hand in return.
‘Sophie Yang!’ Belinda smiled and gave Sophie an extra-firm handshake. ‘You got my letter? It’s such a pleasure!’
‘Mrkglphm,’ Sophie said.
‘And you boys too. Eric has told me so much about you … via email,’ said Belinda, smiling at them warmly. ‘He said if anyone’s ever gonna be able to work out my act, it’s you guys!’ The four of them grinned, blushing with pride as Belinda let out a deep laugh that caused her fiery hair to tremble and shimmer. This was high praise indeed. And no one felt it more than Sophie.
‘So … how are you finding the UK?’ Jonny asked, going strangely tingly when Belinda smiled in answer.
The Young Magicians and the 24-Hour Telepathy Plot Page 8
