martinsmithstories

Image credit: Kranich17 from Pixabay

When Harry arrived at the community hall the following Wednesday night, Mr Le Marvellous greeted him with a beaming smile and wearing a black eyepatch. Beside the old man a large, cuboid wooden box rested upon a bier. A stepladder stood at its side.

‘Ready for a little magic, my boy,’ he said as his unpatched eye sparkled.

‘I … I think so, Mr Le Marvellous.’

‘That’s the attitude, my boy. Don’t let last week’s minor mishap dampen your enthusiasm.’ He gave Harry a pat of encouragement on his shoulder. ‘Right, my boy, this week I’m going to get you to saw me in half.’

‘Saw you in half, Mr Le Marvellous?’

Harry’s self-confidence eroded to self-doubt.

‘That’s right. It’s a bread-and-butter trick for all the great magicians, and I tell you, my boy, when I look at you, I see greatness within.’

Mr Le Marvellous climbed the stepladder, opened a small lid on top of the box, climbed in, shut the lid and disappeared. Banging and groaning came from within until the old man’s head popped out of a small hole at the end of the box.

‘Check the other end if you could, my boy,’ a flushed-faced Mr Le Marvellous said.

Harry walked to the other end of the box, and a pair of black shoes and black-socked ankles appeared through a hole and wriggled about.

‘Now, my boy, all you need to do is grab that handsaw over there, place its jagged teeth on the edge of the box, say the magic words and saw.’

‘A … A … Are you sure this is safe, Mr Le Marvellous?’

‘Quite sure, my boy. If it wasn’t, I’d be half the man I am today.’ The old man cackled at his wit.

Harry picked up a handsaw, poked a finger at its teeth and punctured his skin. A prick of blood appeared at the tip of his finger. ‘Where on the box do I place the handsaw, Mr Le Marvellous?’

An out-of-sight Mr Le Marvellous called out, ‘On the X, my boy. X always marks the spot.’ Another cackle came from the hidden side of the box.

Harry looked along the rim of the box, found an X pencilled in a shaky hand and placed the handsaw’s teeth upon the spot.

‘What’s the magic word, Mr Le Marvellous?’

‘Not a word, my boy, but words. It’s “Razzle Dazzle Bim Bom Ba”.’

Harry firmed his stance, gripped the handsaw and said, ‘Razzle Dazzle Bam Bim Bo.’ He pushed and pulled at the handsaw tentatively until it bit and cut into the box. Sawdust fell at Harry’s feet.

‘Come on, my boy, put a little elbow grease into it.’

Harry firmed his grip and sawed harder and faster. The sawdust pile grew. When halfway through the box, the blade gripped and stuck, and a guttural roar came from the other side of the box. Harry gasped, then said, ‘Oh My God! Mr Le Marvellous, are you OK?’

‘Of course. Just adding a bit of theatrics. Remember, my boy, it’s all about the theatrics. Give your audience a show. Give them the three Es: Enticement, Enthralment, Entertainment. And whatever you do, don’t stop. Ever. Now, carry on, my boy.’

Harry recommenced sawing, and the old man continued to holler in mock pain. Sweat formed on Harry’s brow, and his breath shortened as whatever he was sawing into provided greater resistance than the top half of the box. The sawdust falling to his feet was now bloody red.

With a last push of the handsaw and a mighty, agonising roar from Mr Le Marvellous that filled the hall, the box split apart, and its two halves wheeled around so the top of Mr Le Marvellous’s head touched the soles of his shoes. The old man’s feet continued to jiggle.

‘Well done, my boy,’ Mr Le Marvellous said. ‘As I said, you’ve greatness within.’ The jiggling shoes tap-danced upon Mr Le Marvellous’s head. ‘Right, my boy, if you could just give me a hand getting out.’

Mr Le Marvellous’s head disappeared into the hole. The lid of the wooden box opened, and the old man’s hands reached out, and Harry grabbed and pulled them as the old man sat. Mr Le Marvellous swung a leg out of the box and placed his foot upon the top rung of the stepladder. He placed his arm around Harry’s shoulder and went to swing his other leg out of the box when he said, ‘Oh dear. Not quite what I planned, my boy.’ Harry looked into the box and screamed, for Mr Le Marvellous’s black-trousered leg had disappeared from the knee down. Only a red-raw stump and the shortened, jagged edge of the leg of his trousers remained.

‘Oh God! Oh God! What have I done?’ Harry said as tears blurred his vision.

‘That’s never happened before, my boy, but don’t be too upset. It’s not as bad as it looks.’ Mr Le Marvellous turned towards the stage and called out, ‘Issy!’ Mrs Le Marvellous, mid-tango on the stage with a fly swat, stopped and looked towards Harry and Mr Le Marvellous.

‘Issy! I’m going to need my spare.’

Mrs Le Marvellous disappeared into the back kitchen. She reappeared carrying a prosthetic leg in her arms and a pair of black trousers draped over her shoulder. As she walked towards Harry, Mr Le Marvellous whispered into Harry’s ear, ‘One day, my boy, I’ll tell you how I lost my real leg.’

***

When Harry arrived the next Wednesday, he found Mr Le Marvellous standing in the middle of the community hall with a grin on his face and a walking cane in his hand. Harry sighed in relief that neither a wooden box nor a deck of cards was in sight.

‘Hello, my boy.’

‘Hello, Mr Le Marvellous. How’s your leg?’

‘Good as new, my boy.’ The old man tapped his leg with his cane, releasing a dull, wooden thud. ‘Actually, it’s better than the old one. None of those pesky termites that drive Mrs Le Marvellous mad.’ He gave the leg another tap.

‘Right, my boy, let’s get to work. This week, I am going to teach you how to make an object disappear. It’s a simple three-step process. One, take a handful of magic dust. Two, say the magic word. And three, throw the dust at the base of the object you wish to make disappear. Allow me, my boy, to demonstrate.’

Mr Le Marvellous removed his top hat and, with much huffing and puffing, bent down and placed it on the ground. With further huffing and puffing, the old man returned to an upright position. ‘Stand back, my boy,’ he said as he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a handful of grey powder. ‘Can’t have you disappear on me.’ His eyes vanished as his face crinkled when he released a cackle. With a flourish of his cape and a wave of his arm, Mr Le Marvellous shouted, ‘Alakazam.’ He threw the powder at the base of the hat. With a spark of light and a pop and a hiss, a cloud of purple smoke rose around the hat and enveloped Harry. His eyes watered and his throat burned, and as the air cleared, he saw a grinning Mr Le Marvellous appear through the smoke.

‘Behold, my boy, no more hat.’ The old man pointed to his feet, where only the polished floor of the community hall remained.

‘H … How’d you do that, Mr Le Marvellous?’ Harry said, wiping his teary, smoke-filled eyes with his sleeve.

‘Magic, my boy, magic.’

‘But where is it now?’

‘Use your eyes, my boy.’

Harry looked about the hall, puzzled as to the hat’s whereabouts. Then, beyond the dissipating smoke, beyond the other students, beyond the far end of the hall, he saw Mrs Le Marvellous upon the raised stage with her arms by her sides and her feet stomping out an Irish jig upon her insect enemy. And upon her head, with a tilt and a wisp of smoulder, perched Mr Le Marvellous’s hat.

‘That’s amazing, Mr Le Marvellous.’

‘Thank you. Right, my boy, your turn. Put out your hand.’

Mr Le Marvellous placed a small pile of dust on Harry’s trembling outstretched palm.

‘Off you go, my boy. Remember, it’s all about process and confidence. Trust the process.’

Harry looked about him. ‘Umm, Mr Le Marvellous, what object am I going to make disappear?’

‘Why, me, my boy.’

‘You?’

‘Yes.’

‘But … but … Are you sure it’s safe?’

‘Absolutely, my boy. I’ve had this done to me hundreds of times by my students over the years. And the worst that’s happened to me is I’ve ended up in the car park. Come, trust yourself.’

Harry looked at the dust in his hand and then up at a grinning Mr Le Marvellous.

‘OK, Mr Le Marvellous. If you’re sure it’s safe.’

‘Quite safe. And remember the theatrics, my boy.’

Harry raised his arm with a flourish, threw the dust at the old man’s feet and said, ‘Al … Al … A … Kerzem.’

The dust landed at Mr Le Marvellous’s feet, and a flash of jagged light blinded Harry. A boom thundered across the hall, followed by a distant crash of shattering glass, and a cloud of black smoke rose and enveloped him. Harry coughed and spluttered and flapped his hands about to clear the air, and two white eyes appeared through the smoke and blinked in stunned silence before Harry. As the smoke cleared further, the rest of Mr Le Marvellous, blackened and smouldering, appeared behind the white eyes. A lashless, browless, fringeless Mr Le Marvellous smiled, and through his smouldering, singed moustache, he said, ‘We’ll need to put a tad more practice into that one, my boy. Just remember: the incantation is “Al-a-ka-zam”, and it comes before you throw the dust.’

‘OK, Mr Le Marvellous.’

‘Don’t despair, my boy, we’ll have you ship-shape for the big show.’

‘Big show?’ Fear shortened Harry’s breath and quickened his heart rate. ‘What big show?’

‘Our big magic show that Mrs Le Marvellous and I put on for the families at term’s end. All the students perform their favourite trick. Even Mrs Le Marvellous and I dust off our capes and top hats to perform a little magic.’

‘But I can’t perform a trick on stage, Mr Le Marvellous. I’m hopeless.’

‘I beg to differ, my boy. You’re a star in the making. All you need is a little confidence, a little self-belief, and you’ll have them spellbound.’

‘But how can I get up on the stage? Every trick I’ve tried has ended in disaster.’

‘Not the one I’ve got lined up for you on the big night. Trust me, my boy, with dedication and practice you’ll be more than ready. And a hit. Trust the process, my boy, trust the process. Now I suggest you practise your rings while I help Sarah with her dove.’

‘OK, Mr Le Marvellous.’

Later, as Harry’s parents’ car pulled up to take him home, Harry heard the old man call out from within the hall, ‘Issy? Issy? Where the blazes have you disappeared to?’