The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets by Eva Rice

Jazz Cafe?’ I prompted
him. Marijuana, espressos and jazz, oh my! I thought.
    ‘She
was talking to a friend of mine,’ went on Harry. ‘This guy from school I’d
never liked but I went up and said hello anyway. He introduced me to Marina and
that was it. The spell was cast. For a whole month we met every night — but I
never once saw her during the day. Well, it never seemed strange to me at the
time, but it was, of course. You have to see your lover during the day
at some point, don’t you? Otherwise the whole thing remains a dream. Perhaps
that’s what she wanted.’ He stared at me, as if he had only just considered
this. ‘She was absolutely hooked on magic,’ he went on, ‘and she never wanted
me to explain how I had done anything. She said that nothing in her life ever
surprised her any more except for watching me. And I’m a sucker for that sort
of flattery —everyone is, aren’t they? — so I carried on trying to surprise
her. I got addicted to the way her eyes lit up at the end of a trick. She knew
so many people — Americans, Italian counts, Indian princesses — and they would
crowd round the table to watch me. I suppose I got addicted to that, too, idiot
that I am. At the end of every night I drove her back to her parents’ place.
She never invited me in.
    ‘Why
not?’ I asked stupidly.
    ‘I wasn’t
exactly what they had in mind for Marina. She never said, but she didn’t need
to. But she liked me, I know that much. I was uncharted territory for her.’
    ‘Why?
Because you were a magician?’
    ‘Oh no!’
Harry grinned at me. ‘Because I was poor, of course. Rich girls always go
through a phase of lusting after men with no money. Haven’t you?’
    I
flushed. His directness unnerved me. ‘I’m not rich,’ I said pertly.
    Harry
looked at me as though I was mad. ‘Anyway, all this was six months ago now,’ he
said. ‘Just when I realised that I was in it up to my neck, she told me she
couldn’t see me any more.
    ‘In
what up to your neck?’
    ‘Love,
sweetheart. Love.’
    ‘Oh that. I see what you mean,’ I said, sounding absurd. ‘How did she tell you?’
    ‘Oh,
the usual. She cried a lot, as girls do, and told me that I would be better off
without her — which is true — then a couple of months later I pick up the paper
and read that she’s engaged to George Rogerson. The least magical man on the
planet.’
    ‘Why is
she marrying him then?’
    ‘He’s
loaded and has lots of important friends. I hear he’s a wonder on the golf
course. Irresistible, don’t you think?’
    ‘So why
did you go to dinner with them the other day? Wouldn’t it be easier not to see
her, to try to forget her?’
    Harry
sat down on the bed and offered me a cigarette from Aunt Sarah’s silver box. I
had filled the box earlier that day so at least I knew they were fresh. It
wouldn’t do to refuse one; I could see that Harry wanted me to join him.
    ‘Thank
you,’ I said, taking one.
    ‘I had to see her with him,’ he explained, flicking open his lighter for me, ‘even
if it was only to make sure it was really happening. She sat at the other end
of the table giving me these odd looks. I couldn’t make out what she was trying
to say.
    ‘Couldn’t
you — I don’t know — turn George Rogerson into a toad, or something?’ I asked.
    ‘I
thought of that. But then of course someone else got there before me.
    I
giggled.
    ‘I’m
going to get her back,’ he said calmly.
    ‘How?’
    Harry
stood up and wandered over to the window. From the back, I could see that the
ends of his trousers had been trodden down by the heels of his shoes. He looked
as though he could have done with a Selfridges session with Mama. Yet for all
his dishevelled appearance, he remained peculiarly stylish. He was, like
Charlotte, the sort of person who could wear a cardboard box and make it look
right.
    ‘Well,
it’s like this,’ he said. ‘There’s one characteristic Marina has that she could
never hide whenever