Before The Magician’s Assistant Course - Part 5 - Debut Performance

That Sunday I arrived at the shopping centre at about 11 in the morning. Jack was already setting up outside a defunct lingerie shop. There was space to set up a performance area for his show allowing for a crowd a few deep and still be no more than a minor impediment to the flow of uninvolved pedestrians.

The equipment consisted of a crate, with an assortment of props on top and a few tucked inside the open back. Plus a couple of chairs and board with handles like a stretcher. The last thing we set up was a banner announcing 'Jack's Magic Show' to be performed here '@ 2, 3, 4 & 5 pm'.

The setting up took less than forty minutes, including the extra time Jack wanted to check and recheck all the props were present and ready to his satisfaction. This gave us two hours before he needed to be ready for his show. "Ok, that's ready, so what do we do now?" I asked.

"Now, we go and have some lunch. And I'll give you a bit of equipment you'll be needing this afternoon."

"Aren't you worried that someone will interfere with your stuff while you're gone?" This seemed like a potential concern given that he had triple-checked it.

"No. It's all perfectly safe. Most people will notice nothing but the banner. And the few that might spot the other stuff will know to leave it alone." I was about to asked if this was some piece of magic making things invisible, when he pointed to the narrow strip of wall above the window of the unit opposite. I followed his gesture and saw a security camera pointing in our direction. Jack waved at it and it moved down, then up, as if it was nodding back.

Lunch was nothing special and the conversation was similar to the chat we had with coffee during rehearsals, except this time there was food to. He was eating the Chinese dumplings with chopsticks, but I chickened out and ate my rice dish with a fork and spoon; and I still managed to drip some of the sweet mustard sauce on my t-shirt; thankfully I did not get any on my only pair of jeans.

At the end of the meal, I apologised for the mess I made and wondered out loud if I had time to pop home before I was needed for my first exposure to the public as a magician's assistant.

Jack told me not to bother, because it suited what he planned for me later. Then he handed me a credit card with a small sticky note on it.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"The obvious, and the PIN's on the note; probably best to keep it in a different pocket for the time being, until you've learnt it."

"I know what a credit card is for and how to keep a PIN safe. What I really wanted to know was why are you giving it to me, now."

"You'll be needing a card to pay for things you'll need as a magician's assistant; I'm not expecting you to pay for stuff out of your own pocket, and it'll help me to keep track of the expenses of setting you up as an assistant, so that if you do decided to leave, I can transfer the card into your name and you can pay it off in whatever way you want."

"What kinds of things would I be buying?"

"Initially, clothes and costumes, but I'll also be charging some of the materials for any illusions that I build or significantly modify to fit you and the fee for the magicians' assistants' course."

"Won't that accrue a lot of interest?" I asked.

"No, because I'll be paying it off and keeping track of the expenses of getting you up and running as an assistant. But all that will be in your contract, which will be ready for Wednesday. In the mean time, I have some things I need you to purchase this afternoon. It'll be one for each of the first three shows. The first thing I want you to get is a nice top, that is not a t-shirt, I don't much mind so long as it can easily be told from the top you've got now; something with long sleeves or thin straps, it doesn't matter, but definitely a different colour.

"You want me to buy a new top?"

"Yes, and turn up at the pitch for the show with it in a bag. Once you arrive, I'll invite you to help me in a trick and we'll see how you perform in front of the public. I'll see you there." Jack got up and went to the counter where he handed over a couple of notes to pay for our lunch, and left. I stayed to finish my coffee, before heading to find somewhere to buy a new top.

When I returned to the busking site with my purchase, he had already started, even though it was several minutes to two. The only change to the performance area that I noticed was that he had placed a top hat on a box closer to the edge of the area we had set up; in front of the hat was a folded piece of card with the words 'Thank You' in neat capitals.

As I stood at the edge of the arena, he performed the linking rings. His next trick was one where various squares of cloth were produced and then put individually into a bag being held by a girl from the audience, when the kid was asked to retrieve the cloths from the bag, she could not find them, but when Jack reaching into the bag, he pulled out a huge multicoloured cloth.

Jack's next trick was with an older person. She was asked to lie on the board which had be lain across the backs of the two chairs, a cloth was draped over her body followed by the removal of the chair under her feet and the board. The audience of about twenty-five clapped the magic, but the volunteer seemed worried about what might be happening to her, so Jack reversed the procedure and helped her down from the board.

He did a find the lady routine with giant cards arranged on stands, before he asked for another volunteer. The way he winked at me told me that this was my moment. I put my hand up, almost hoping that he would pick someone else.

"You'll do," he said, looking at me. "Yes, you in the yellow T-shirt." I had to look down to check I was wearing a yellow T-shirt, before stepping forward over the line marking the boundary of the performance area.

He came forward to greet me and shook my hand. "What is your name, miss?"

A little surprised that he was pretending not to know me, I hesitated, because I was not only the centre of attention, I was playing a role that I had not been warned about. I hoped my pause would be taken as nervousness. "My name is Abigail, but my friends call me Abi."

"Do you mind if I call you Abi?" Jack asked.

"I guess not; you seem friendly." I felt good that a few people in the crowd laughed a bit.

"Ok, Abi, and what have you been doing here?"

"I had a bit of lunch with a friend then I did a bit of shopping." I was getting into my undercover role, telling the truth without telling the whole truth.

"Have you bought anything nice?" He asked, eyeing the small paper carrier bag that hung from my hand.

"I got myself a pretty blouse from that chain store on the second level." I did not need to name it because the name was on the carrier.

"Would you like to show the rest of the audience?"

"You mean like change into it? In front of all these people?"

"Yes, show everyone your new blouse, especially as you seem to have some of your lunch on your T-shirt."

I blushed, more from realising that Jack had hinted that he would mention this and I had not picked up on the hint, than actually being particularly worried by the food stain. "I couldn't do that! Not in front of everyone."

"What if I held up a curtain?" Jack offered.

"Only if you promise not to lower the curtain before I'm ready." I had a feeling that I had an idea what he had planned.

He promised and then had me stand against the whitewashed shop window that was his backdrop; his excuse was so that no-one could peek round the side of the curtain. He instructed me to place the bag with my new top on the floor at my feet, saying that I could reached down and collect my new blouse, once I had taken my T-shirt off. Then he showed me and the audience the curtain; I expressed what everyone was thinking. "That's too small!"

The curtain was long enough to cover from my neck down to maybe an inch below my waistband. It was not particularly wide either; if I spread my arms straight out it have concealed nothing more than from one elbow to the other. The fabric of the curtain hung from a curved rod.

"Are you ready?" Jack asked.

"I guess so. You will keep the curtain up 'til I'm ready, right?"

He raised the curtain and waited nearly ten seconds before lowering it again. I made a squawk of terror, because while I could tell something had changed, I could not be sure that I was properly dressed. A quick look down and I shared the astonishment that the crowd were showing. My T-shirt was no longer there, but in its place was the mid-blue blouse with the scattering of white dots I had bought in the last hour.

It seemed natural to me to ask the question that was on the audience's lips. "Where has my T-shirt gone?"

Jack did not answer directly, gave the bag at my feet a significant glance. I bent down and reached into the bag and pulled out my sauce-stained T-shirt, and feeling obligated to, displayed it. As I stuffed the top back into the bag, Jack made a point of thanking me for my help and escorting back to my place on the audience side of the line marking out his performance area. My feelings combined a mild embarrassment, as if I had really changed my top in full view of a bunch of strangers, and an unaccustomed exhilaration at having not only got through a performance, but without tripping up.

He pushed a note into my hand, which I read surreptitiously. It told me to buy a shorter than knee-length skirt and be back for the next show.

When I returned with my new skirt in another carrier bag, I watched what was basically the same show as before with minor modifications to account for the difference in the volunteers and their reactions. My part went very similarly to the previous time, but I was a little more nervous, because I was not confident of my ability to pretend to not know Jack. The bag with the new skirt in was placed on the floor in front of the curtain on the pretence that I could lean over the curtain to collect the skirt from the bag. As I expected with a lag of about ten seconds the curtain was dropped to reveal me now in the mid-thigh length skirt and my hands had not even gone below the top of the curtain. The crowd applauded as I was returned to their number trying to look bemused by the occurrence. I read the note that I found in my hand, which asked me to buy a longer than knee-length dress with short sleeves and return for the next show.

The next show was very similar again. My part came and went with me in a short-sleeved long red dress. The note in my hand afterwards told me to get something in a bag big enough to get my arm in up to my elbow. I cudgelled my brains for a short while about where I might get such a bag, before noticing the bag I had been carrying the dress in fitted the bill. I transferred skirt and blouse into their original bags along with the T-shirt and jeans that I had arrived in, then went to kill the next twenty minutes.

When I returned from browsing a book shop, Jack was in heated discussion with someone dressed as a member of the shopping centre's security staff. The guard spotted me and I heard him say, "That's her!" before he turned his attention to me and called me over.

As I approached, I heard him telling Jack, "I knew it, it was the same girl each time, you've been using an assistant!"

Jack seemed exasperated. "Abi may have been in each show, but, technically, she isn't my assistant."

"That makes no sense," said the security guy.

"She isn't my assistant until we sign the contract on Wednesday, and she is as clueless as you are about how I do the quick change. I expect you can check out the clothes that got quick-changed and the receipts that will show that they were bought from shops in the centre this very afternoon." Jack turned to me and, in a half-whispered aside, said, "I hope you kept the receipts."

The security guy looked at me as I tried to spear Jack with a glance that I intended to convey my contempt that he might even suggest I had not kept the receipts. Jack was immune to my stare, but guard gave every appearance of being scared of me, shrugged and left.

When he had gone, I asked Jack, "What was that all about?"

"Him? He was the guy on the end of the CCTV when we went to lunch. I said I'd pay him a 'bonus' if he could work out how any of the tricks were done. He came to claim his 'bonus', thinking that having noticed that you appeared as a 'volunteer' in each show, meant that he was entitled. It seems that my explanation and your (dare I say it?) 'attitude', gave him other thoughts. Of course, if he'd said 'it was done by magic,' I'd have paid up."

I moved on to checking that the bag I had was big enough. He told me it was ideal.

Most of the show came and went, much the same as before, with minor variations in audience volunteer responses and corresponding replies. He announced that his next tricks would the finale of the show, when previously he had jigsawed another member of the audience after my return to the crowd. I felt uneasy because this was going to be the finale and I could not think how a costume change routine with one costume change could compete with a jig-sawing. It also occurred to me that I did not have anything new to be changed into.

I was introduced to the new set of strangers. He asked if I had a big bag he could borrow, evidently eyeing the bag I was carrying. "I suppose you can borrow it," I said as I pulled out the other two bags, which I had put in there to make the whole lot easier to carry.

He took the bag and showed the crowd the insides. It mystified me why; I was meant to be an audience volunteer, so who would even think to wonder if the bag was empty after I had taken some  stuff out? And I reckoned it proved nothing especially after the cloths into the bag act not fifteen minutes before.

With the interior of the bag displayed to the whole crowd, he returned to me and asked me to reach into the bag and check it was still empty. I reached in and had a feel around. "It's empty," I asserted.

"No, it isn't," Jack said, contradicting my statement and common sense.

"There's nothing in the bag."

"Yes there is; your arm." While this was true it seemed to be beside the point, because what I really meant was I can feel nothing else in the bag, when I reached to the bottom of the bag a little beyond elbow deep. This seemed to amuse the audience, but I found it annoying, because he was deliberately missing the point.

While he still held one end of the bag with one hand he moved my hand that was not in the bag towards my upper arm an inch or two above my elbow. He raised the bag a bit so that it was also above my elbow. "Hold the bag in place, while I sort out the next bit!" he instructed.

I took a hold around my arm above my elbow including the top edge of the bag in the grip. The hand he had been holding the bag with he thrust into the bag to clasp my wrist. His other hand reached behind him and came back with a large knife, which he also thrust into the bag. I felt it touch the skin near the top of my forearm, with a pricking slice which immediately faded to numbness while the rubbing of the flat of the blade inside my flesh became pleasant and rapidly spread across my arm. Then I found what Jack was doing, when he pulled my forearm and hand from the bag. The audience must have thought my jaw dropped from being astounded and surprised to have my forearm cut off, but really it was shock that he had been so presumptuous to do it without letting me know what he planned first.

While he displayed my detached forearm to the assembled masses, I managed to retain enough composure to make hand gestures with my detached hand and keep them clean. In the background of my thoughts I tried to remember where I had seen this piece of magic before. I also recalled that he had said that he was not supposed to be doing any magic on me before the course; some excuse about them needing to measure how much magic I could take.

Then I remembered where I had seen this before, it was an incident during a similar busking gig when he was at college, when he had done this magic on Charlotte without her permission and thus confirmed that the two could not comfortably work together. I was not sure what I felt about that or about Jack. As I came to this non-conclusion, Jack returned to stuff my arm back into the bag, reattaching it in the process. He finished the trick by lifting my arm from the bag and raising it above my head to show that it was reconnected to the rest of me.

I used the opportunity to elbow him in the chest with my other arm, which loosened his grip on my wrist allowing me to duck down and retrieve my purchases before heading at a fast walk away and into the centre of the shopping centre.

As I slackened my pace to allow me to re-stow the smaller bags in the big bag, I became aware of heavy footsteps following me. I did not get the chance to turn to see who had followed me before a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. A Caribbean accented woman's voice said, "Is your name really Abigail? I think we need to talk."

The hand guided me towards Costa Coffee. Having deposited me in a seat inside, it snapped and waved two fingers at the startled guy behind the counter. With the hand briefly disengaged, I made a move to leave. The hand prevented me from rising, then its owner sat down facing me. She was a large woman in a burnt-orange dress with purple frills; she might have been described as jolly if her face did not carry a serious expression. "We need to talk," she re-iterated.

I sat there for several seconds not sure whether I needed to talk or to escape.

She seemed to take my lack of decisive action as consenting to this conversation. "Do you know what just happened to you?"

I nodded, but a twitch of her head told me that more was needed. "Jack cut part of my arm off and then he put it back." I lifted my arm to assure myself and the woman that my arm was still attached and none the worse for having been detached for several of the last ten minutes.

"And do you know how he did it?" she asked.

"He used magic." I replied, trying to make it sound like a full and complete explanation. Internally, I was coming to the realisation that I had come to accept that Jack could do these things, but had never questioned how.

"At least you know that much. But do you know how dangerous that is?"

"It's probably the least dangerous thing he has ever done to me." Until those words came out of my mouth, I had not recognised how true they were.

"So, you're his assistant."

I felt compelled to correct her assumption. "Not technically; not yet." Another turn of her head sought clarification. "I going to be his assistant, but I haven't been on the course or signed the paperwork yet."

Her brow furrowed more. "Oh, Jack! You have been a naughty boy."

I don't know why I defended him after he had cut my arm off without letting me know the plan before doing it. "I'm due to signed the paperwork on Wednesday and I'm going on the course next week."

"You sound like you are having second thoughts."

"I am. He did not tell me that he planned to chop my arm off; I thought he wasn't supposed to do any magic on me before the course. And I know he's done this kind of thing to someone else before."

"Oh yes, I remember. Such a disappointment; we had such hopes that Jack and Charlotte would form a double act. It would have been great for magic in general to tame Jack's wild side and perhaps liven-up Charlotte's rather stuffy approach to performing."

"Um, how do you know about that?"

"I was one of their teachers. And we knew more than they thought we knew. Sometimes if it was harmless and exhibited some creative thinking we would let it pass or even cover it up. But anything dangerous was stamped on; hard."

"So what are you going to do about it?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Well, strictly speaking I should report it to the college, but in my view no harm was done, except to his chances of keeping hold of a potential assistant. I suggest that you give it some thought and when you go on the course report it or not as you see fit."

"But don't I have to have signed the contract with Jack to go on the course?"

"Not unless they've changed the rules since I was there. You have a place on the course, because it is booked and paid for. If you decide that Jack is not the magician you want to work for, I feel sure that with the course under your belt, any magician would be happy to offer you a place on his or her team."

"But won't having magic done on me muck up the measuring of how much magic I can withstand, or something like that?"

"Well, it's not ideal, but most people can dissipate the amount of magic that was used on you this afternoon in a few days, but even if it takes you longer, you should clear by next week."

"I suppose," I began, "but I think I've got a lot to think about and I had trouble getting rid of the magic last time, because my mind was trying to work out what to do."

The woman chugged her coffee and stood to leave. Before departing she place a hand on my shoulder which for a second or two felt tingly. "I'm sure you'll work it out," she said, then bustled off.

I sipped my coffee and wondered what had happened. Had I dropped Jack into deep trouble? Did I really care? Was I going to turn up at the next rehearsal?

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By the time I had cycled home my uncertainty about my future had resolved to two questions; what was I going to do about Jack? and what was I going to do about being a magician's assistant?

Neither question was simple and I had not worked what my options were, when I arrived home. Linda was waiting.

"Nice new dress," she commented, than asked what she really wanted to know. "How'd it go this afternoon?"

"Ok," I replied. as I took my purchases into my room.

Linda followed me. "So, what's wrong? Did Jack do something? Or was doing your stuff in front of the public too scary? And what's with all the shopping? I thought you said you were going to be magicked on. And if you can afford to shop there, maybe we should up your part of the household bills." She sensed my reluctance to talk about this afternoon and took it as a challenge. "Something definitely happened this afternoon and you need to tell me about it. I'll make us something to drink and we'll talk."

"Who said anything happened this afternoon?" I countered. "But a cuppa would be great."

I changed into my jeans and a fresh T-shirt, and hung my purchases up in the cupboard, to the accompaniment of a kettle being boiled and various makings being dropped into mugs.

I arrived in the kitchen about the time the drinks were ready after a sharp rattling of teaspoons in mugs. "For a while there, I thought that you might hide away in your room to avoid talking to me; but you know that I would have caught you at breakfast tomorrow and made you late for work."

"I came for the tea, even though I had a coffee before I left the shopping centre. I know you too; you won't let up until you have some answers. I just want to get it over with, but you know I'll tell you to mind your business, if you pry too far. What makes you think that there is anything to talk about anyway?"

"That's easy; usually you come home from a 'rehearsal' saying how exciting or boring it was; almost as if you think giving me that information will quell my curiosity about exactly what you and your boyfriend get up to." I opened my mouth to protest the description of Jack as my boyfriend, but she looked me in the eye and said, "Uh-uh!" to stop me. "Today you came back from doing whatever you did, having been as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking-chair factory for the last few days. And the only thing you say is 'ok'. You invited me to sit you down and get to the bottom of whatever's going on with you and Jack; or at least find the chain to the plughole and drain some of problem."

"I guess you're right," I admitted, even though I did not really want to; she was trying to help keep me from breaking under the strain of being involved with Jack.

"Too right."

"So, where do you want me to start?" It seemed fair; I had no idea how this conversation was meant to go or where it would end up.

"Let's start with what actually happened. And you know I'll be asking questions if you start skipping bits. But I will get you to move on if it gets too bogged down."

"Ok, here goes," I said as I tried to get my thoughts into some sort of order. "I met Jack outside that lingerie shop, you know the one that moved into town. I helped a bit, setting up his busking spot and then we went to lunch."

"Good, Where did he take you?" The unspoken part of the question was did Jack treat me to a slap-up dinner or something to keep the hunger at bay?

"We went to that oriental place; he had dumplings and I had rice. Then he gave me a credit card." I knew that Linda would jump on that, so I paused to let her.

"A credit card? Why?"

"He said it was so that I could buy stuff related to the magic show and he could keep track of how much it cost him to introduce an assistant to his act. He asked me to buy a top before the first show and then be available to act as a volunteer."

"Ok, that explains some of the shopping. So, what happened when you volunteered? And how did it go? Did you like performing? You seemed nervous about it before you left."

"He did a trick where he swapped the T-shirt I was wearing for the top I had bought; kind of a quick change thing. I suppose it went well; I didn't let on that I was a plant and the trick happened, don't ask me how, and it felt good to be applauded, even if I hadn't done much to deserve it, other than stand there and let it happen."

"So, he managed to remove your top and replace it with another, while people were watching?"

"Yes, but he did hold a cloth up in front of me, like you see magicians do."

"Was that it?"

"No, before the second show, I bought a skirt and he changed me into that behind the cloth and for the third show it was that dress I came home in."

"Did you feel better about being in the public eye?"

"Yes, I guess. Well the ground didn't swallow me up and it was nice to be appreciated by people that don't know you."

"Ok, that all sounds fine to me. So, what aren't you telling me?"

"Well, he did something different for the last show; he cut my arm off and showed it round the audience."

Linda looked at my arms resting by their elbows on the table and holding my tea mug in my hands. "Which one?"

I put down my mug and pointed at the area about an inch below my elbow where I had felt the initial cut. "He used big knife, like a kitchen knife. My arm was hidden in the dress bag; I suppose to make look more like a trick than real magic."

"And how do you feel about that?" Linda asked.

"I'm not sure; I guess I'm confused. While I actually enjoyed the feeling of the magic (well, except for the start of the cut) and I'm glad I managed to keep the seperated hand moving and making appropriate gestures, but I am less happy that Jack didn't let me know what he was going to do beforehand. I'm not sure how I feel about any of it now. I didn't even stop to talk to him about it; I just ran off."

"I think I can understand that, but what does it mean for your supposed new career as a magician's assistant?"

"I don't know, but I need to decide before Wednesday, because that's when I'm meant to be signing my magician's assistant contract, before going on the course next week. And I think I may have dropped Jack in it too."

"How? and why would you care?"

"Well, someone followed me and we had a coffee together. She turned out to be one of the teachers at the magicians' college; although I got the impression that she had retired or moved on to other things."

"And how does that matter?"

"Erm, the college got wind of what Jack did to me when we first met (Don't ask; it's complicated) so he's on some kind of probation; you know, don't do it again, and if you do, we'll throw the book at you, kind of thing."

"And cutting off your arm, without warning you might have broken his probation?"

I made a confirmatory noise that I hoped included my doubt.

"It seems somewhat obvious to me; you're better off without him."

"He's alright really."

Linda looked at me with shock written on her face. "Care to explain that?"

"He's a nice guy. He hasn't pushed me to become a proper girlfriend or do anything I didn't want to do, and he has only stepped over the line a couple of times."

"And how long have you known him? Three weeks?"

I nodded.

"And how many times has he crossed the line? If it's more than three times he should be so ditched that he'll take a week to crawl out. Even if it's less than that, you need to let him know where the lines are."

I lifted my mug to take a couple of slurps while I considered the question; my mind was a riot of other questions looking for answers that I was not sure I had. Where were the lines? Had I let Jack know there were lines and where they might be? How was I meant to anticipate the existence of lines in places I had never been? Was it my fault for not telling Jack about the lines, or his for not asking? Is a line crossed, if you are taken somewhere you like?

Linda made a pointed slurp at her tea. "I don't know! I'm confused. I need to think about it. Especially with the extra complication, that the only other person he has cut their arm off of was the girlfriend from college. I not sure whether he was testing me or he thought of it as a compliment, because she is some sort of special magician person."

"I think you need to take your mind off the whole thing for several hours; allow your brain to work on it in the background without your conscious mind second guessing what it's putting together before it is ready. You're coming with me to the club; you're already dressed for it and I only need to change my top."

I had hoped that Linda's prescription would have been a night in with a pizza and a romantic movie, but in hindsight, that would probably have been a recipe for further confusing myself, especially as those movies tend to biased towards boy gets girl in the end.

The club Linda took me to was loud and smelled of sweat and spilled drinks. She did not allow me to be a wallflower, dragging me to the dance floor claiming the she was trying to get me tired so I slept well and keep me from getting drunk, which would make tomorrow a tough challenge and not help my thinking processes. While there I heard Linda rebuffing several men on my behalf and even refusing an offer made to her, because she was looking after me.

When we returned to the flat, my head was pounding with the rhythm of the club, but I was tired enough to slip off the clothes and under duvet, where I was asleep in minutes.

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In the morning, I woke suddenly to the wailing of my alarm clock. I reached out to stop it, but it was not where I was reaching. I tried to turn over to see what I was doing, when I landed on the bed in a tangle of duvet from a height of about two feet. It took very little time to untangle myself and silence the alarm, but I was sure that the extra time I had taken would clued Linda in to things not running with their usual efficiency.

I got dressed for work and wandered to the kitchen for a dose of breakfast to get the day on track. Linda was waiting with a mug of tea ready. "Jack must have really worked a magical number on you yesterday," she commented. "How did you sleep?"

This was not her usual morning conversation, in fact I did not often see her in the morning, much less converse. "Why did you ask?" I asked, wary that I may have missed something, such as a knife in the table.

"When we got back I made you a cocoa to help you get some restful sleep; I know you're an insomniac when things are stressful. But when I brought into your room, you were already asleep... About a foot or two above the sheets. I guess you needed your sleep and there would be no more knife marks in the table, so I drank the cocoa myself. But I thought you couldn't do that levitation thing yourself."

I remembered the tingly feeling that I had felt when Jack's former teacher had put her hand on my shoulder as we parted. "I don't think I can, but maybe Jack's teacher did something to help me before she left."

"Well, at least I didn't find any surprises when I got up. That's a good thing,right? And I let you sleep in. Don't worry, I left a message on your work number letting them know that you might be a little late; you've worked for them long enough that they should give you a little slack."

I looked at the time, then bolted the breakfast and cycled to work, instead of walking.

At work nobody commented on me being half an hour late, but Miss Sharp mentioned that she had seen me volunteering for 'that handsome magician that's Tully's new client', fortunately it seemed that she had witnessed one of the quick changes, thus forestalling the 'how was it done?' questions. Mention of Mr Tully sparked an idea, So when I had a chance, I went to see him and asked if he would look over and advise on 'a contract I should be getting, before I sign it'? He cottoned to this being something to do with the bet I had spoken to him about before and told me I should consider whether there might be a conflict of interest, with him being Jack's accountant and suggested that I asked one of the other junior partners, once he had a chance to prepare the ground.

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went as my plan became clearer in my head.

----------

As I cycled to Jack's place, I wondered if what I was planning was wise. If Linda's opinion counted, it was not.

I wheeled my bike in and parked it next to Jack's van. Jack came out of the door at the head of the stairs with a look of relief on his face.

"Great to see you! I wondered after you ran off like that, if I would see you again."

"I ran into one of your old teachers and we had a coffee together, after which I went home with a lot to think about."

Even at the range we were apart, it was clear that he was unsettled by this information, particularly that someone from the college had been keeping an eye on him.

"Don't worry, she isn't going to report you for what you did to me, she left that for me to decide if I was going to report you when I go on the course. So, we'd better get on and sort out what I need to do and where I need to go to attend the course, and you can explain the assistant contract to me. I hope there's plenty of coffee."

The first part of the evening was taken up by being handed my course instructions and the discovery that he would not be there. It seemed that the college had considered the possibility that magicians might coerced people to become their assistants, and decided that the course was an ideal opportunity to detect such unethical behaviour. The instructions of where to go were a bit vague, consisting of turn up here at this time and we will collect you.

The evening continued with Jack explaining the contract, which seemed to be in three parts. The first part looked like a normal contract of employment with all the usual stuff about remuneration and letting people know if you were unable to work. Part two was effectively the non-disclosure part, where secrets had to be kept, but it also specified that the magician should fully restore the assistant at the end of a show. The final part was the custom part of our agreement, which boiled down to Jack keeping a track of the expenses incurred in recruiting and preparing me and deducting amounts for performances, rehearsals and other time spent towards the act.

At the end of the evening, I went to pick up all the paperwork. "Aren't you going to sign it?"

"Not now. You didn't expect me to sign a contract without getting it checked out by someone with legal experience, did you? Mr Tibbles has said he'll look it over for me. And I may want to see about getting something added, so you don't pull a stunt like you did on Sunday; I may like magic and surprises, but cutting my arm off without warning in not the kind of surprise I want to be happening too often."

I scooped up the paperwork and headed for the door. "I might see you after the course. And if I don't, don't worry, I'll make sure that I pay off the bet and expenses incurred so far."