Page 75

‘Ah, sure.’

With a shy smile, James offered her a shoulder bag to hold, continuing to drag the heavy case himself. As Mr. Wilson rambled on, holding James’s attention, she tried to make sense of the flurries of emotions swirling around her head. This wasn’t how she had expected their first meeting since their second date to go. A few bitter words, particularly aimed at Jacob, might have been more likely, but he either had no idea, or he had forgiven her. Either way, she felt like a child who had been forgiven for a little mishap without any punishment. It was coming; it had to be. But when?

They took James to an assembly room where they had set up the little stage they used for the Christmas festival. A couple of other teachers were floating around, in particular Amy Clairmont, who was holding a flyer behind her back and looked keen to snag an autograph. Old Don Jones stood near the door, and whenever Charlotte walked within earshot, he would fire off some remark like, ‘Don’t look quite as good once the TV lights go off, do they?’

James went behind a partition screen for a while, then when he stuck a head out to say he was ready, the teachers started to bring the kids into the hall. They sat on the floor in rows, the teachers standing nearby ready to shut down any bad behaviour.

Mr. Wilson climbed on to the stage and introduced James, who walked out to a series of cheers. Some of the children had already been to his shows, and were asked to stop talking about magic tricks they had seen. James, for his part, looked far different from the flamboyant entertainer, and after making a pack of playing cards seem to appear out of nowhere and shower the little kids sitting in the front row, he pulled up a chair and sat down.

‘This is a rarity for me,’ he said, eyes scanning the assembled children and the teachers standing nearby. ‘A chance to remove the mask. I can remember being your age. I was a lonely child. My mother was a circus performer, meaning we travelled from place to place. I was always the new kid, rarely in a school for more than a single term. Things are different now, aren’t they? You’re taught to welcome the new kid, accept them. That wasn’t the case in my day. I was shunned on a regular basis. Gum in the hair, bugs in my gym shoes, worms in my bag. You name it.’

The children, hypnotised by his voice, looked stunned. Charlotte glanced across the room at Jennifer, who shrugged. Mr. Wilson was looking at his watch.

‘You see, I turned to magic to help with my loneliness,’ James said, waving a hand. A pigeon appeared out of nowhere to huge gasps of surprise. A couple of the youngest kids began to cry, their teacher swooping in to comfort them. James, seemingly struggling to control the bird, tossed it into the air. Its wings flapped and it disappeared out of sight over the partition screen behind him.

‘Fake,’ Old Don Jones muttered from behind Charlotte. ‘You can buy those on Amazon.’

It had certainly looked real to Charlotte, and clearly to Amy Clairmont too, who was inching close to the screen, trying to get a look behind it.

‘Mine has been a life of heartbreak,’ James said, and for a moment his eyes met Charlotte’s. ‘But through everything, I found magic by my side. Magic, which exists in all of you. Magic, which you should hold on to with everything you have.’ He paused, offering his rapt audience a smile. ‘And at Christmas … there’s no better time for magic, is there?’

He pressed his hands together, pulled them apart, revealing a string of paper snowmen between them. He pressed his hands back together, flicked them at the audience, and a cascade of confetti showered the smallest kids again.

James waited until the cheering had died down, then scanned the kids again. ‘May I have a volunteer please?’

Half the kids raised their hands. James picked one of the Year Threes, calling the little boy to the stage. After a brief interview, he asked the boy to choose from a pack of playing cards, which he showed to the audience. The Queen of Hearts. James did a few elaborate shuffling motions, then produced a card from his pocket, asking if it was the boy’s card. The boy shook his head, and the crowd groaned. James frowned, waved his hands again, then plucked a card from the boy’s shirt pocket. Again, not the boy’s card. James looked a little frustrated, but then his frown turned into a smile.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said, counting out the cards one by one. ‘Look, fifty-one. Your card must have gone for a walk somewhere. They can do that sometimes, you know. Playing cards have a long history. There’s a lot of meaning behind them, and so your card must have gone somewhere it was most needed.’ He looked around the room, his gaze moving among the teachers, coming to a stop on Charlotte.

‘Ah … Ms. Harding, isn’t it?’

Charlotte felt the gaze of the whole room on her. ‘Yes?’

‘Could you check in your trouser pocket for me?’

‘I don’t think….’ But as she shifted, she felt it, pressing into her thigh. She slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a playing card.

‘Can you hold it up for everyone to see?’

Charlotte turned it over. The Queen of Hearts. She held it up, and the little boy began to jump up and down with excitement.

‘Is this your card?’

‘Yes, yes!’

The kids went wild. Charlotte stared at the card in shock, as behind her, Old Don Jones muttered, ‘Now how the hell did he do that?’

James performed a couple more tricks, made some balloon animals, pulled a thirty-foot rope out of an envelope, then asked for one last volunteer. This time almost every hand went up.

‘You, boy at the back,’ James said, indicating Billy Toad, who looked stunned to have been chosen. ‘Come here.’

The boy made his way to the stage. Despite a slow transformation taking place, Billy was still not the most popular of kids and picked up a few snide remarks on the way to the front. Charlotte glared at the perpetrators, making a mental note of the names for a quiet word later.

‘Sit down, young man,’ James said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Billy.’

‘Billy what?’