Before The Magician’s Assistant Course - Part 2 - Decision

The next thing I remember is waking up, under the duvet in my nightshirt. It was morning.

I got up and dressed in the t-shirt and jeans I had worn the previous night, which were draped over the chair. As I remembered the happenings of the previous night, several questions queued up in my mind. How had they got there? And how had I ended up under the duvet? Had I dreamed? I did not remember dreaming. Had there been more flying cutlery? At least I felt more refreshed than I had in a week.

In the kitchen I made a pot of tea and when Linda appeared, I poured her a cup too.

“So, Linda, what happened after I was asleep?”

“Well, he left. I escorted him to the outer door to make sure he didn’t hang around and do, erm, stuff to mess with your head more than he has already. Then when I got back I decided to change you into your night things.”

A raise of my eyebrow was all I needed to ask ‘why?’

“Two reasons really. First, you didn’t look particularly comfortable floating there in your jeans and stuff; I felt sure you’d sleep better in you nightshirt. And also I wondered if you were having me on; like a prank or something, so I was trying to find out how you were floating there. I didn’t find anything. Once you were in your night things, I draped the duvet over you so you didn’t get cold.”

I glanced at the clock on the microwave and realised that I was running late; not only had I slept better that recently, I had slept longer. It took another slurp of tea and then rushed to get ready for work. During my hurried walk to the office an idea occurred to me. I decided to talk to one of the partners to see if what I had thought was something that might be considered fair.

I spoke to Mr Tully, one of the junior partners. I happened to be in his office to give him the airline tickets and details of the hotel reservations for an accountancy conference he was attending.

“Erm, Mr Tully, may ask you a question?”

“Of course. If it’s about a raise, the partners have been wondering when you’d ask. Most of us think you deserve more than you’re getting, but Mr Danvers thinks that the annual increment is enough.”

“That’s nice to hear, but it’s not about that. It’s a private matter.”

“Oh.” He mimed zipping up his mouth, locking it and throwing away the key.

“Well, about a week ago I made a, kind of, bet.”

His face showed surprised. “You never struck me as the gambling kind. I guess this was a one off occurrence.”

“Erm, yes.”

“So, you either want some help to win the bet or some help because you lost the bet. Right?”

“Not exactly, I lost the bet, but that’s not a problem, really. I’ve got enough the pay it off. The problem is I got offered an alternative means of paying, but it would be a long term commitment, and while I think, at the moment, I’d enjoy it, I'm not certain I’d enjoy it in the long term.”

“I take it that the sum involved is not insignificant,” interjected Mr Tully.

“Well, to me, it’s quite a bit. But what I wanted to know if you thought it would be considered fair to suggest that I try the other way to pay and if in a while I decided that it didn’t suit me, I’d pay the debt and some of the expenses that have been incurred by me opting for the alternative.”

“So, you want to propose to the other party, that you try the alternative plan and if, in the future, it becomes too much trouble, you would offer to pay the original bet and something that might be considered interest or a buy-out fee?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but, I guess, in short that’s it. So, do you think that kind of arrangement would be considered fair?”

“Well, not knowing the exact details, I can’t speak to the fairness or otherwise of that. But I see no reason that you could not propose such an arrangement. It would be up to the other party to agree, or not, depending on the details and you would need to be sure you had the funds to buy yourself out of the alternative plan, but other than that it sounds potentially fair.”

“Thank you. I knew I’d have to negotiate with ‘the other party’; I’ll just have to suggest it and see what he says. And the money shouldn’t be an issue, if the alternative payment plan doesn’t work out, because I come into the rest on my inheritance in about six months.”

“Oh yes. I had forgotten about that. I do hope we are not going to lose you when that happens. By the way, thank you for recommending us to Mr Leatherbridge. He’s coming in tomorrow for a first consultation.” My face must have looked blank, because Mr Tully continued, “I guess you know him as Jack.”

“Erm, no problem,” I said and left his office.

My mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts. How had Jack found out where I work? Or had he just decided that he needed an accountant and just happened to pick where I worked? Surely he already had an accountant, what with being the owner of the magic shop in the city. At least I had a plan on what I would decide about becoming a magician’s assistant. But how to tell Jack my thinking? And what if he was not willing to go along with it? Should I make my counter-counter-proposal in an e-mail or a phone call? Would it be better to arrange a face-to-face meeting to discuss it?

I must have stood there in a dither for a while, because Mr Danvers’ secretary pushed passed me, before giving me a mildly concerned glance, asking, “Are you alright?” in manner that suggested that she might stop to help, if I said ‘No!’. Instead I said, “Fine, thank you.” And she carried on, her stride barely broken.

I conceived a plan. I checked the appointment book and discovered that Jack (Mr Leatherbridge) had an 11am consultation; two can play at that game (getting information from unacknowledged sources). I left a message on his answering machine saying that unless he already had an engagement for lunch after his appointment at the accountants, we should have lunch to discuss what I had decided. I then sent a back-up e-mail adding the request that he let me know if he could not make it.

When I checked my e-mail later, there was a message from Jack saying, ‘See you then’.

That night I slept well again, but not dreamlessly. I dreamt that I was floating above my bed again and when I woke the duvet was on the floor and it felt like I dropped onto the mattress from a short distance; enough to wonder if there had been more magic leaking overnight causing me to really levitate.

That morning I dressed a little smarter than I usually did for work and contrived to be doing receptionist duties when Jack arrived.

When he did arrive, I greeted him, “Good morning, Mr Leatherbridge. Welcome to Danvers and Partners.”

He seemed surprised to see me; so either he had not known I worked here or had assumed I did my work in the back office (which I normally would). He recovered quickly and with a smile returned, “Good morning to you too, Miss Carter.” For a moment, I wondered how he knew my name, then I remembered that our names were on the mailboxes in the foyer of the flats and he knew my flat number.

“I’ll let Mr Tully know you are here. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat.” I indicated the waiting area, which consisted of a few chairs and a small table stacked with dull magazines, mostly accountancy related. I also smiled more than the minimal professional smile.

Mr Tully came out to greet his new client and once they were in his office, I went back to my usual desk, allowing Miss Sharp to cover reception; she seemed happy enough that I had given her an extended tea break.

When Jack was finished in Mr Tully’s office, I came out and followed him down the stairs. As we reached the street, I said, “So, Jack where are you taking me for lunch?”

He turned and said, “Truth is, I don’t usually eat out, except when I’ve got a gig a way away, so where do you suggest?”

“Well, the Italian round the corner is nice and suitably quiet so we can talk.” So, he allowed me to take the lead and we went there and were shown to a table in a quiet corner.

As we looked at the menu, Jack said, “Do you want to talk now or wait until we’ve ordered?”

“I think wait until we’ve ordered for the main subject of the conversation, but there are a few things I’d like to clear up first; if you don’t mind. They’ll just niggle me if I don’t ask.”

“Fine, fire away!”

“Ok. Did you choose to come our accountants, because I work there?”

“Yes. I have been needing an accountant for a while; the business paperwork is getting quite heavy and I don’t really have the time.”

“And why not use the accountants for your shop?”

“Well, I wanted to keep the shop-related stuff separate from my personal stuff; besides the shop uses an accountants in the city, which is a fair distance.”

“Ok. And how did you know I worked there?”

“Well I looked on the net for local accountants, with a view to calling each one and trying to subtly discover whether you worked there, but then I spotted you in the background of one of the photos on the website; so it was a pretty fair guess that you worked there.”

“And, I think, finally, how did you known my surname, because I never told you. I have a theory, but I’d like to see if I’m right.”

“That was easy really; your name was written on the previous dry cleaning label in your dress. My turn to ask a question. What was your theory?”

“I thought you might have noticed my name on the mail box in the lobby of the flats, when you came over night before last.”

“Any more questions? If not, I’ll signal the waiter to come and take our order.”

The waiter arrived and we ordered.

“I take it from the fact that we’re here, rather than on the phone or in an e-mail conversation that you plan to take up my offer of becoming my assistant.”

“Erm, well, yes and no.”

“That made sense; not!”

“Ok, let me put it this way, I think I want to take up magician’s assistanting, but what if, down the line, I decide that being mutilated and hacked about for the entertainment of others is not for me?”

“I don’t know. I had not really thought that you might wonder if you liked it or could carry on liking it in the long term. You seemed to like it a lot that night.”

“That’s just it. Is experiencing four pieces of magic (five, if you count you levitating me night before last) enough to really tell? And I have also wondered if I would cope being in front of an audience; I’ve never done anything much with people watching, since the nativity play at school.”

“I see your point about not really having enough experience to tell if being an assistant is for you, but I’m sure you’ll be great in front of an audience.”

“How do you know? I might freeze or something. I don’t know how I’d react, so how can you?”

“I don’t really, but you seem as if you’ll be, erm, great in front of an audience. I don’t know how I can tell, but in the brief time I’ve known you, you’ve been shy (Erm, modest, rather than shy) and that seems to be a good indicator to me. I’ll acknowledge that being outgoing with one person is different to being like that on stage, but I feel confident that you’ll handle it marvellously.”

“But, what if, it turns out, I don’t blossom on stage or if, after some of the wonder has worn off, I don’t like being magician’s assistant?”

“I guess, I’d have to find another assistant.”

“And that would be expensive for you and cause you a lot of trouble, right?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to say ‘yes’ now and then turn round in a few months’ time and say ‘I’m leaving, this is not for me’. Or, possibly worse, feel obligated to stick around, even though I’m not feeling good about it.”

Jack looked thoughtful, as if he was trying to work out what I was trying to say to him. Then the starters arrived. We both ate distractedly; trying to work out where the conversation was likely to go.

As we swallowed the final morsels. Jack said, “It seems to me that you have a bit of a problem with becoming an assistant, but I’m not exactly sure what it is. Perhaps you could summarise it.”

“Erm, I think it goes like this. I think, at the moment, I want to be magician’s assistant to your magician, but I don’t know whether the reality of it would be as… nice seems such a feeble word. I don’t want to be trapped being a magician’s assistant if I discover I don’t like it any more. But also I’m aware that saying ‘yes’ now and later saying that I don’t want to do it any more would leave you in the lurch and out of pocket. And I like you enough to not want to muck you about.”

“So, you’re looking for some sort of get-out clause, for if you find the reality of working as my assistant doesn’t measure up.”

“Yes, that’s it. But I’d feel guilty if your magical career was harmed, if I decided to pull out. So I had the idea that if I did decide to leave, I would pay for the recruitment of a replacement assistant and some of the other expenses I feel sure are associated with changing assistants and stick around until the new assistant is ready to go.”

He seemed stunned by the idea. In the silence that followed, a waiter came and cleared the starter plates.

“Well, what do you think?” I prompted.

“I don’t think any magician has ever received such a kind and generous offer.”

“Erm, well, ok. But would it work? At the moment I want to be your magician’s assistant, but I also want to be confident that either that will continue or I can walk away. And you want to be happy that if I take up the offer, you won’t be left high and dry, if I leave after I’ve got more experience of it.”

“It sounds like it could work. We’d, of course, have to work out the exact details, but that can be sorted out later. One thing just occurred to me; would you want such an arrangement to written into your magician’s assistant’s contract or just have it as an understanding between us two?”

“At this point, I think, put it into the contract, because it’s about me feeling I have the option and, I guess, if I get to the point of wanting to pack it in, I won’t feel much obligation to honour an agreement that wasn’t in writing.”

The arrival of the main course derailed the conversation for a while.

“Ok, Abi, when would you like to start rehearsals?”

“What?”

“Well, you’ve pretty much said ‘yes’, so I can get the paperwork and arrangements underway. But not having the paperwork won’t stop us rehearsing and the sooner we have something that can be called an act, the sooner we’ll be out there doing it, once the paperwork is signed and sealed.”

“I ’spose that makes sense. I guess whenever you want; it’s not as if my diary is chock-a-block with engagements and parties and such-like.”

“Ok, how do Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons sound?”

“Why those times? Not that I can’t do them.”

“Wednesdays, I deliver stuff I’ve made to the magic shop, so I don’t do shows on Wednesday evenings; I usually do paperwork on Wednesday evening, but your Mr Tully is going to reduce that some. And Sundays are usually quiet, although I have got a busking license for Sunday afternoon at the big shopping centre in town in three weeks’ time, but maybe you could come along and watch what I do and perhaps, depending on how you feel about it, get to find out what it’s like to perform for the public.”

“You think we could sort out something to perform for the public in three weeks?”

“Well, it would have to be an audience participation thing, but I would pick you. Strictly speaking, we aren’t supposed to use uncertified assistants, except for audience participation effects, so there would be nothing to learn how do to, you just have to go with the flow and enjoy the experience.”

“Ok,” I said, dubiously.

“Speaking of ‘uncertified assistants’, I’m sure you can get the 8th to the 12th of next month off.”

“Why?”

“I booked you a place on the magician’s assistant’s course last night.”

“That seems a bit presumptuous or high-handed or something. It sounds like you were assuming that I’d say ‘yes’.”

“No, definitely not. It may look like it, but definitely not.” I gave him a look that told him that I wasn’t buying a plain denial of high-handedness. “Like I said, I have been thinking about going the magician-with-assistant route for a time, but you have given me the impetus to actually do something about it. Of course, I hoped that you had invited me to lunch to say ‘yes’, but even if you said ‘no’, and were suggesting a lunch to let me down easy, I’ve still got just enough time to find someone else to be my assistant, who could take up the place on the course.”

I favoured Jack with another look, which was barely less sceptical than the previous one. I looked down at the now empty plate in front of me; I didn’t remember eating it. Then I wondered if I fancied a dessert, but glanced at my watch; where had the time gone?

“I’d better get back to the office,” I said, “or they’ll think you’ve kidnapped me. I’ll pick up the bill on the way out. I see next Wednesday about six-ish, ok?”

“Ok, but, surely, you can spare a few moments for just one more thing.”

“Ok, but it really ought to be a quick thing.”

He directed my attention to the single red rose that had been sitting in a small vase on the table. As I watched he closed his hand around that flower and made a tight fist. When he opened his hand the bloom was gone and there were no broken petals falling from his hand either. The stem ended just below where the calyx had been. He lifted the stem from the vase and wiped the wet end on his napkin and then held it out to me.

“Put your hands round where the flower would be and think of a colour,” he instructed.

I cupped my hands round the flower-less end of the stem that he was holding towards me, but I could not decide which colour to choose; I was torn between white and a peachy pink.

“Open your hands!”

I looked at the end of the stem and there was a rose flower on the end; its petals were mainly white, with peach coloured streaks. He handed the stem to me and said, “See you on Wednesday. Bye.”

I went to the bar to pay and once the transaction was complete, I turned to wave a farewell to Jack, but he was gone.

Returning to work with the rose caused a buzz of speculation, which I tried to ignore. Mostly they were theorising that Jack was my boyfriend, which lead me to wondering what his status in my life was. Given what we had agreed over lunch, was he my boss, my business partner or my magician; boyfriend was too strong a term, in fact I wondered if friend was too strong too?

When I got home, Linda wanted to know how my ‘Date with Lover-boy’ had gone. I denied that the description was anywhere near accurate, but let her know I would be out with him Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons. When she challenged me about what my relationship with Jack was, I told her to consider that being a magician’s assistant was my new hobby and Jack would be my instructor. Determined to find some hope of romance in my life, she asked how many evening class instructors I had ever spent the night with or invited home. I did not have an answer.

The time before the following Wednesday passed prosaically enough, the attention of the office gossip turned to Miss Sharp, who revealed she was pregnant, which was a surprise to all of us as she had not spoken of a steady boyfriend and we were pretty sure that she was not the kind of woman to sleep with anyone who asked. Her manner said that she was happy with the prospect.