The audience started to arrive. They were bustling down the stairs into the basement that was set up with one hundred seats, plus standing room at the back. As the seats filled, Mr Bishop ran through the program with me. This was how we always did it. Each show was a little different, but we had been working together for so long that we no longer needed to rehearse. We could pull off a spectacular show with a two minute skim of the run-sheet.

Once all the seats were filled, and a few people were gathering in the standing area, I rang the big bell to signal the start. A hush fell over the audience. I pulled the golden cords that raised the red curtains. Mr Bishop began what he was so good at. I checked off his routine from the run-sheet. First item. Second item. The audience was crying in laughter at the things he made disappear. From the stage props, to the lighting rig, to Miss Berry’s glasses (“Oh you can pick up another pair later today – if you can find the optometrist,” he exclaimed). This was my cue to enter stage left.

“Oh, not again Mr Bishop! You’ve done it again, haven’t you?” I said, walking towards Miss Berry sitting in the front, “You’re thinking you can’t believe he did this again! You’re wondering if you’ll make it to the optometrist in time today. You’re thinking this is getting all too much. Where do all your glasses go? Well I’ll let you in on a secret – no one knows, not even Mr Bishop. Don’t tell anyone!” And winking at Mr Bishop, “Lucky we’re not making any people disappear today, Mr Bishop!”

Miss Berry was giggling at my true words.

We did an old act of mine where I would select people in the audience and tell them what’s in their pockets or their bags. I would always scan the audience members first and only choose honourable people. I always started with standard items like keys, purse, perhaps a notebook or glasses. After one or two standard choices, the audience would start thinking about what unusual items they were carrying, or what items they did not want anyone to know they were carrying. As they were all thinking about this, I was able to read their minds and select interesting people with interesting items. I found an artist with a full set of oil pastels in her bag, and a small portfolio, which I was sure would sell well afterwards. I found a musician with a harmonica in his pocket, who had a talent for playing renditions of classical masters – and he entertained our audience with proof. Then I found someone very interesting indeed. A chef carrying some saffron in his pockets with quite a story to go with it.

“You Sir, in the tall hat. What’s your name?” I asked the chef.

Standing up, he answered, “Jean-Paul.”

I could see in his eyes that he preferred being called JP. “Thank you JP. May I call you JP?” I asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Now JP, I think you have an interesting tale or two up your sleeve, or in your pocket, I should say. Don’t give anything away just yet, though. If you put your hands in your pockets, I think I can tell what you’re holding onto there.”

He put his hands in his pockets with a grin, sure I would never know what is in there, let alone the story of how it came to be there.

“Your keys, of course! You have your keys in your pocket.”

JP pulled out a set of keys for everyone to see.

“But of course, almost everyone here is carrying keys. I think you have something more interesting than that. Tell me if I’m getting off track here, but I think it’s particularly delicate, extraordinarily rare in these parts, and if I’m not mistaken, it is quite beautiful too, in more ways than one. Am I on the right path here?”

JP nodded and smiled.

“It looks beautiful. It tastes beautiful. Its process of existence is beautiful. Am I getting somewhere here JP?”

“Yes!” he laughed.

“JP, show everyone the saffron in your pocket, and please tell us about your adventures with the priest and the genie to get it.”

JP’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and in his own sense of disbelief, he held up the small jar of saffron, and explained how he travelled every year to purchase saffron from a particular priest in the far east, and this very morning he bumped into a genie in the local market. The genie just happened to be the priest he visited every year for saffron, who had quit working in the family farming business, and decided to do what he was meant to do – grant miracles as a genie. He enjoyed travel, and now he had the freedom to do so. He asked JP what he wanted, and all he really wanted was some saffron. The genie granted him that wish, and the saffron miraculously appeared in JP’s pocket.

Then at the back of the audience, the priest-turned-genie stood up and said, “It’s true! It is me – I granted JP the saffron today. I was so happy I got to bump into him here.”

The audience laughed and talked in absolute disbelief. This was what I most enjoyed about my job.

Mr Bishop walked back on stage to thank me. I exited stage left, and quickly packed some food in my backpack at the cottage. I was not exactly sure what I was going to do, but I was ready to leave if I had to.

Mr Bishop wrapped up the show, and I pulled him aside before he could disappear into the audience.

“Mr Bishop, I have something to tell you.”

“Not now Arca. Pack your things. We’re leaving now. Right now.”

I could not believe it. Just as I was about to leave, he beat me to it and decided we were on the move again. He was suspicious of Miss Berry because of the library books she left out for me.

There was no mingling with the audience. I did not have to sneak away by myself. We did what we did so often. We walked out.