by Heide Goody
“There’s no zipper,” said the caribou.
“Sorry?” said Delia.
“What if I’m, you know, caught short during proceedings?”
“Do not mess this up, Cesar,” growled Cat. “We’re not having another Sweeney Todd incident.” She sighed and helped Cesar out of his costume so he could go off for a preparatory wee.
Sam set up the weapons store, which was a table laid out with some Nerf guns, some sticks and some nets. Cat took up position behind the table like a proud shopkeeper.
“We should line them up for a picture,” said Delia, once they had Caribou Cesar back in costume.
The five animals stood obediently side by side, arms around each other like a bizarre chorus line. Sam took a picture with her phone and saw DC Camara was taking one too.
“Purely for my own amusement,” he said.
Sam looked around. Everything was ready. Weeks of hurried preparation, some insightful use of outside expertise, and her very best attempt to plan a project that had never been attempted before. This was the moment. Either it was going to be one of the highlights of her DefCon4 career, or what followed would be the damning evidence at her firing.
“Okay, everyone,” she called. “It’s showtime!”
* * *
Polly hadn’t seen Mr Marvellous for some years. As he stepped into the central stage area she was mildly shocked to see how much he’d aged. Then she admonished herself. Was she turning into one of those old people who got all judgey and mean? Possibly.
Mr Marvellous patted Chesney on a sweaty shoulder. “Wasn’t he astounding, ladies and gentlemen? That last number. It just seemed to go on forever, didn’t it?”
The audience applauded. Polly wasn’t sure if it was because of the appearance of Mr Marvellous in glitzy bowtie, or because Chesney’s turn was finally over. Even the most charitable person wouldn’t think it was for Chesney’s actual talent – which wasn’t so much bad as painfully mediocre. Whichever, it was considerable applause.
Polly was surprised at the turnout of Otterside residents. She had never seen so many of them all together before. A celebrity could do that, though. Sure, he wasn’t a superstar, but there wasn’t a single person of their age who didn’t know and remember Marvin ‘Mr Marvellous’ Applewhite.
Marvin stood in the centre of the residents’ lounge, his arms raised as he basked in the applause. “A very good day to you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve played the Royal Exchange in Manchester, the Sheffield Crucible, the Liverpool Playhouse, I’ve played to British troops at sea during the Falklands War, I’ve been on stage with the good and great.” He put his hands on his hips and turned a full circle, giving them all a scrutinising look. “But nothing compares to the honour of performing here at—” He frowned, pulled a piece of paper from his hand and pretended to read. “—Otterside!”
There was light laughter and a little groaning. Marvin rolled his eyes, screwed up the paper, slammed it between his hands and confetti flew out. There were hardly gasps of wonder, but there was silence as everyone sat up and gave him their full attention.
Polly relaxed. The man’s act might be a little corny, but he clearly still had, ahem, a few tricks up his sleeve.
“As you can see,” said Marvin, “today I will be performing ‘in the round’, as you’re quite a large crowd. You can be sure that a lesser magician would be nervous about this. Eyes will be on me from every angle.” He gave a comic wink to those behind him, turning slowly as he spoke, making eye contact with the whole crowd. “Now, before I start there’s something missing. As you can see, I am without an assistant. I wonder if someone from the audience would care to help me with my show today?”
Many hands went up, and Polly found hers shooting up as well, held firmly in Strawb’s grip. She didn’t resist. Marvin’s gaze passed over the crowd and came to rest on her. “Can I ask your name?” he asked.
“Polly,” she said.
Marvin nodded sagely. “Yes, Polly. I think I’ll be able to remember that. A hand for Polly please.”
As the audience clapped, Polly stood and walked over.
“Polly, what a perfect name for a glamorous assistant!” he said. “Now I won’t make you wear the outfit.” He studied her face for a moment. “Unless you want to, that is?”
Polly gave a small nod. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real trouper on our hands! Please show your appreciation for Polly!”
As the crowd cheered and clapped, Marvin bent and whispered that she would find some outfit options in the ladies’ toilet outside the lounge, inviting her to choose whatever she liked.
47
Sam had signalled the start of scenario one: the escape of the mammoth. The actors who were playing members of the public milled dutifully around the pathways. Zookeepers were spread out at various points, then came the ‘escape’.
The mammoth burst out from behind a shed with a loud trumpeting sound. Nearly everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in astonishment at the noise it made as it capered along the path.
“Very impressive,” said Rich, appearing at Sam’s elbow with a small bowl of dip and crackers in his hand. “Did you hire that person knowing they were able to make the sound of a trumpeting elephant, or did you get them to practise?”
“I told you to stay on your bench,” she said.
“Rye cracker and relish?” he said.
Sam pointed sternly. “Back to your bench.”
The mammoth’s rules declared that any members of the public directly touched by the escaping animal would sustain injury, and were required to sit down and wait for medical assistance. The rapid progress of the mammoth, teamed with the startled response of the public, meant there were already a high number of casualties. Zookeepers were charged primarily with the safety of the public. Once they sprang into action they quickly evacuated the remaining people and carried temporary fencing to try and contain the mammoth. The mammoth knew the rules – once it was completely surrounded by fence panels, it was to remain still – but this particular specimen had the agility of a rugby forward and dodged the approaching zookeepers with a keen glint in its eye. Sam might have to amend the rules slightly there, although who knew how nifty a real mammoth could be?
She gave the signal for the release of the weapons. Even with this particularly determined escapee, the zookeepers were fairly close to pinning it down so they could administer the tranquiliser.
* * *
Marvin led an admiring round of applause when Polly emerged in the outfit she had selected. She’d been delighted to find that the tights provided were thicker than some of the trousers she owned, so what looked like a rather immodest swimsuit outfit was actually pretty warm, transforming her mottled legs into those of a tanned supermodel. The costume was so heavily sequinned that it was slightly scratchy, but she was prepared to put up with that. She had crowned the whole ensemble with a feather headdress, in the style of a Vegas showgirl. In the mirror of the ladies’ loo, she had rather liked what she saw.
“Spectacular, my dear!” said Marvin. “Simply spectacular. Now your main job is to help me look good. If you don’t mind indulging an old man, I’m of the opinion that a bright smile and an outstretched arm are the tools that are likely to work best. What do you think, Polly?”
“I can help you look good,” she said, emboldened by the lavish outfit. She spotted his bow tie had moved out of place slightly. It seemed like the right time to correct it, so she leaned forward and gave it a tweak. She chucked him under the chin and gave him a wink as an afterthought. The crowd laughed loudly at her boldness.
“An absolute natural. Thank you, Polly! Now, I would like to show you a few little things I can do with a pack of cards. Polly, would you mind bringing that tray over here? Now, is anyone familiar with Busby’s card warp?”
* * *
Sam made notes as quickly as she could. She had numerous observations and thoughts for improving the response t
o the mammoth drill. She’d write them all up later. Right now it was time for the next two scenarios, featuring multiple animal escapes. This time it was the turn of the wolf and the caribou. Sam signalled, and the two animals burst from their starting places. There was a built-in assumption that the wolf might chase the caribou, although this wasn’t necessarily a given, if the wolf was well-fed. The man playing the wolf swaggered down the path, howling aggressively at the public. The public were faster to respond this time and took off at speed. When the caribou cantered jauntily onto the path (Sam was impressed by the moves Sergeant Cesar had improvised. She was prepared to believe it was how a caribou genuinely walked) the wolf yowled enthusiastically and gave chase at top speed. Sam realised a valuable lesson she should take from this was if you gave an actor the choice between doing a fun and interesting thing and not doing the thing, it was pointless. During their performance, all they wanted to chase was any glory they could.
“Daddy, come with me. I’ll save you from the wolf!” shouted a voice from behind.
Sam spun round and came face to face with a girl, no more than six or seven years old, in a severe and old fashioned pinafore dress, holding an orange teddy in her hand. Apparently Caribou Cesar was her dad. The girl ran swiftly towards the wolf, dodged it, grabbed its tail and as the actor stumbled, kicked him heavily between the legs. The wolf went down with an exclamation of “Jesus! Man down! Man down!”
Cesar turned to the girl. “What are you doing here, Iris? Aren’t you with mummy and Jack?”
“Someone take the kid inside while the zookeepers capture the caribou!” shouted Sam. “The wolf has been, er, neutralised and is no longer a threat.”
The scenario completed without further compromise, although Sam wasn’t sure how future drills might mitigate against an actor’s child disturbing the proceedings. Delia came over to whisper in Sam’s ear. “It seems as though Cat put that picture up on social media. The kid saw it and came to help her dad fight the good fight.”
“I think the mum must be around here somewhere.”
“She’s just round the front,” said Cesar.
“I’ll take care of her,” said DC Camara.
Sam nodded and added Social media blackout to her list.
* * *
Polly was very much enjoying being a magician’s assistant. She had briefly wondered if it might give her an insight into how Marvin’s tricks were carried out, but even up close, she couldn’t tell how his ‘circus card trick’ or ‘chink-a-chink’ worked.
“Right, stand right here Polly, while I wave my wand over the bag of gold you’re holding. Right close. Don’t take your eye— Not that close. We don’t want to make your boyfriend jealous.”
The audience laughed, Strawb laughing the loudest.
“He’s not really my boyfriend,” Polly whispered to Marvin.
“Careful,” Marvin told Strawb. “If you want to keep a hold on this one, you’d better put a ring on her.”
Marvin gave a wand flick and turned the bag inside out. Gold glitter fell out.
“Where’s it gone?” said Polly, automatically.
Marvin pointed at her hand. There was a thick gold band on her ring finger.
“How the…!”
Strawb chortled and literally slapped his knee. “Bladdy hell, mate. You’ve still got it!”
“Thank you, I believe I have,” grinned Marvin who was either a supreme performer or having the time of his life. “The problem with half the things I’ve got these days is I can’t remember where I got it from or what it’s for.”
Strawb wagged a finger. “I saw this guy in summer season in Clacton.”
“Did you? I think I shared the bill with Dennis Waterman that year,” said Marvin. “Seventy … nine? It was shortly after we all found out he could sing as well as act. ‘Dennis!’ I used to say, ‘Dennis! You do all that running around on the television and then you come over here to Clacton and you sing as well. What’s your secret? Do you eat a special diet?’ Do you know what he said to me? The secret of his success? Avocados! Or it might have been bananas. I forget now. It was something mushy that I don’t like all that much.”
“You are a national treasure,” guffawed Strawb.
“And speaking of treasure,” said Marvin, “I’m going to have to alleviate your lady friend of this sparkly finger jewellery.
Polly twisted at the ring. “I think it’s stuck.”
Marvin produced a hacksaw and a chopping block. “Not to worry.”
* * *
Sam had rounded everyone up for the final scenario of the day. All of the actors seemed to have relaxed into their roles after two ‘escapes’, and Sam found it challenging to be heard above their chatter.
“Can I have your attention please? We’ll be getting underway with the final scenario in a moment. The bison and the sabre-toothed tiger. You’ve all done a great job so far, and I need you to keep to the rules as we do this last drill. Now, we shouldn’t have any more interruptions from outside. Are you all ready to go?”
There was a cheer from the actors. Sam hoped they weren’t getting carried away.
She gave the signal to begin and watched carefully. The actors playing members of the public were on the lookout for the escapees, but that was fine. First into the public area was the sabre-toothed tiger, played by the young girl – Rhianna, was it? Sam watched as she sashayed down the path. She had clearly modelled her performance on an actual cat, as she displayed a distinctly feline arrogance. Sam hoped she wasn’t going to indulge in a paw-washing display, or belt out Memories. She kept walking serenely until she came close to some members of the public, when she lashed out with a claw, tapping them both on the arm, even though they thought they were out of reach. They sat down, scowling, and the tiger moved on. The bison was out of its cage now. A large, lumbering presence, it clattered along paths, trying to give the tiger a wide berth. The tiger pretended not to notice at first, but the already grinning face became more animated as the bison took out some crowd members with its clumsy movements. The zookeepers were closing in now, able to move more swiftly this time because the public had been cleared (apart from the casualties who were still down). They had Nerf guns and some wire mesh panels to contain the animals. Sam observed a slight breakdown in teamwork. It looked as if the zookeepers were not clear which of them was tackling the tiger and which was taking care of the bison.
The tiger took advantage of everyone being distracted, creeping up behind the zookeepers and taking out nearly all of them with a neat series of swipes. The tiger grinned and turned its attention to the bison who looked around nervously. It was largely unprotected.
The bison saw a gap between two buildings and ran through, desperate to evade the tiger.
* * *
Polly found her face was starting to hurt from all the smiling, but she couldn’t stop. She had enjoyed being Marvin’s assistant more than she could have imagined. She’d thrown herself into the role after the interval, with exaggerated poses and wide hand gestures to accompany every trick and bad joke that Marvin made.
“Let me show you a trick I once performed for Mr Frank Sinatra at a Hollywood charity gala in seventy-four,” said Marvin. “He was a fine gentleman and gave me a hundred dollar bill to use in the trick. Does anybody here have one of those?”
Marvin stopped. Polly followed his gaze. A beanpole of man was stood by the door, waving.
“Sorry to interrupt, folks,” he said. “I’m DC Lucas Camara. Does anyone know who this little girl belongs to?”
“That’s not the kind of bill I had in mind,” said Marvin with a brief wave at the policemen.
Polly wanted to clap in admiration at his quick wit, but she was frozen in surprise, her mouth dry. “Iris?”
Her great-niece blinked.
“It’s me. Great aunt Polly.”
The girl mushed her teddy bear to her mouth and giggled. “You look funny.”
Polly gave her a chorus girl wiggle. “Not used to seeing your
aunty look like this, are you?”
“So she does belong to you?” said the policeman.
“Yes,” said Polly, then felt a large stupid lump in her throat. “Oh, God, I’m going to cry.”
Marvin clicked his fingers and a handkerchief appeared in his hands.
Polly ignored it and held out her arms. “Are you going to give your Aunt Polly a hug then?” she said.
* * *
Sam and Delia found themselves trying to explain to the tired and understandably angry woman, the doctor from her dad’s medical, where the woman’s daughter might now be.
“She was here, but then the policeman offered to take her to find her mum,” said Delia “Well, you.”
“What policeman?” Dr Hackett demanded between aggressive puffs on her e-cig. Her whole body shook in fury as she spoke. She was practically crushing the hand of the little boy beside her in her own. “Was he even a real policeman?”
“I’m fairly sure he was,” said Sam.
“Fairly?!”
“He was. He is. He’s probably gone into the care home.”
“I was only parked round front, waiting for their daddy.”
“I see. I think…” Sam scanned the animals still in play. “Is it your husband? Cesar? I think he’s around here somewhere.”
“He’s a caribou,” added Delia helpfully.
The woman’s expression became one of profound abhorrence. “I will not be speaking to that man while he’s engaging in such shenanigans. What is that one even meant to be?”
Delia looked. “Sabre-toothed tiger. It’s stalking the bison.”
“But it’s smiling! Why is it smiling?”
“It’s happy to be here.” Delia looked at the glum-faced boy who was barely visible beneath the vapour clouds the woman was producing. “Are you happy to be here?”
“He doesn’t talk to strangers,” snapped the doctor. “I don’t approve of the activities I see you conducting here and I refuse to let either of the children get involved.”