Sarah said, 'your skills are purely down to teenage rebellion. '
I smiled, but it faltered a little. 'You could say that, yeah.'
'And the magazine, too.'
I'd told her about my job in our email exchanges, mostly because it gave her a way of checking up on me and making sure I was legit. I was fairly sure the percentage of ice-pick-wielding men on the internet was higher than that of their female counterparts.
'The magazine started off as just a hobby. I never imagined I'd end up rebelling against my parents full time.'
I supposed that was the ultimate irony of the situation. When my mother died, most of the money went to my father, but she also left me a lump sum; then, after he died, it all came to me. Without it, I'd never have been able to afford to rent the flat I lived in now, or survive long off the pittance I earned from the magic or the magazine. It was my inheritance in every sense of the word.
'I think it sounds fun,' Sarah said. 'Investigating all that stuff, I mean.'
'Ghosts and ghouls and mediums? I used to enjoy it a lot more. It can be soul-destroying at times.'
'Soul-destroying?'
'Not that I believe in souls.' I put my glass down. 'It's just tough to see how manipulative it can all be. Like mediums, for example. They take advantage of people's grief; they milk it. I get annoyed at them more than anything.'
I stopped, knowing I was in danger of going off on one.
'Your mother's not a medium, is she?' I said.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'No, you're okay. And I see where you're coming from. To be honest, though, I have a weird attitude to these things.'
'Which is?'
'That I'm not sure the truth matters so much.' She shrugged. 'You know? People lie to themselves all the time. I mean, I do it. I bet you do, too. We all fool ourselves so we can feel better, don't we?'
I smiled. 'Yeah, I know that in my saner moments, honestly. Whatever gets you through the day.'
'Exactly. Or the night.' She raised her glass of wine, then immediately put it down. 'Not that I'm finding this traumatic, by the way. In fact, I'm pleasantly surprised. I'm already hoping we're going to do this again some time.'
'I'd like that. Next time, I promise not to get annoyed about anything.'
'Don't worry about that. I like it.' She sipped her wine and gave me a pointed look. 'A bit of passion is good.'
We both let that one hang for a moment, and then I checked my watch. It was coming up on nine. We'd met properly only two hours ago - which even a fruit-fly would class as early days - but it was obvious there was some kind of spark there. The conversation had come without a hitch. Sarah was attractive, articulate and intelligent. She'd made me laugh and - at the least - she'd been gracious enough to act as though I was funny as well. It all seemed very promising.
Early days, I reminded myself.
'We should head for a taxi, maybe?' I said.
'Sounds good.'
'I'll get the bill.'
I went across to the counter to pay. As Sarah headed towards the door, she called over to me.
'Oh yeah - can I have my ring back, by the way?'
'Of course.' I glanced over. There were two baskets of flowers on either side of the entrance. I gestured uncertainly at the one on the left. 'Check in there.'
I turned back to the counter and sorted out the money.
'Hey!'
'What?'
Sarah was standing, hands on hips, staring at me. Not only had I made the ring vanish, but I'd made it reappear again several metres away from where I'd been sitting, without moving a muscle. God-like genius.
That was when she asked me the second inevitable question.
'How did you do that?'
'You have no idea how much effort it took.'
I put fifty pounds down on the counter - the bill, plus the ten I'd agreed in advance for the waiter to deposit the ring in the flowerpot on his way out to smoke. He'd found it in my napkin, from when I'd brushed the ring into my lap the second time I 'picked it up'. Dull, really.
But it's good to maintain a slight air of mystique in the early stages; not so
I smiled, but it faltered a little. 'You could say that, yeah.'
'And the magazine, too.'
I'd told her about my job in our email exchanges, mostly because it gave her a way of checking up on me and making sure I was legit. I was fairly sure the percentage of ice-pick-wielding men on the internet was higher than that of their female counterparts.
'The magazine started off as just a hobby. I never imagined I'd end up rebelling against my parents full time.'
I supposed that was the ultimate irony of the situation. When my mother died, most of the money went to my father, but she also left me a lump sum; then, after he died, it all came to me. Without it, I'd never have been able to afford to rent the flat I lived in now, or survive long off the pittance I earned from the magic or the magazine. It was my inheritance in every sense of the word.
'I think it sounds fun,' Sarah said. 'Investigating all that stuff, I mean.'
'Ghosts and ghouls and mediums? I used to enjoy it a lot more. It can be soul-destroying at times.'
'Soul-destroying?'
'Not that I believe in souls.' I put my glass down. 'It's just tough to see how manipulative it can all be. Like mediums, for example. They take advantage of people's grief; they milk it. I get annoyed at them more than anything.'
I stopped, knowing I was in danger of going off on one.
'Your mother's not a medium, is she?' I said.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'No, you're okay. And I see where you're coming from. To be honest, though, I have a weird attitude to these things.'
'Which is?'
'That I'm not sure the truth matters so much.' She shrugged. 'You know? People lie to themselves all the time. I mean, I do it. I bet you do, too. We all fool ourselves so we can feel better, don't we?'
I smiled. 'Yeah, I know that in my saner moments, honestly. Whatever gets you through the day.'
'Exactly. Or the night.' She raised her glass of wine, then immediately put it down. 'Not that I'm finding this traumatic, by the way. In fact, I'm pleasantly surprised. I'm already hoping we're going to do this again some time.'
'I'd like that. Next time, I promise not to get annoyed about anything.'
'Don't worry about that. I like it.' She sipped her wine and gave me a pointed look. 'A bit of passion is good.'
We both let that one hang for a moment, and then I checked my watch. It was coming up on nine. We'd met properly only two hours ago - which even a fruit-fly would class as early days - but it was obvious there was some kind of spark there. The conversation had come without a hitch. Sarah was attractive, articulate and intelligent. She'd made me laugh and - at the least - she'd been gracious enough to act as though I was funny as well. It all seemed very promising.
Early days, I reminded myself.
'We should head for a taxi, maybe?' I said.
'Sounds good.'
'I'll get the bill.'
I went across to the counter to pay. As Sarah headed towards the door, she called over to me.
'Oh yeah - can I have my ring back, by the way?'
'Of course.' I glanced over. There were two baskets of flowers on either side of the entrance. I gestured uncertainly at the one on the left. 'Check in there.'
I turned back to the counter and sorted out the money.
'Hey!'
'What?'
Sarah was standing, hands on hips, staring at me. Not only had I made the ring vanish, but I'd made it reappear again several metres away from where I'd been sitting, without moving a muscle. God-like genius.
That was when she asked me the second inevitable question.
'How did you do that?'
'You have no idea how much effort it took.'
I put fifty pounds down on the counter - the bill, plus the ten I'd agreed in advance for the waiter to deposit the ring in the flowerpot on his way out to smoke. He'd found it in my napkin, from when I'd brushed the ring into my lap the second time I 'picked it up'. Dull, really.
But it's good to maintain a slight air of mystique in the early stages; not so
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