CHAPTER 4. RUPERT RICHARDSON

  Abagail squinted at the key lock on her car door. It was getting darker now. She finally found it and jumped in. She took a deep breath and looked over to see Jacob looking through the curtain at her. She started her car, turned on the headlights and drove quickly away.

  Jacob and Carol were a big deal to Abagail, and she was finding it challenging. The yellow Beetle drove along with the other traffic. She came into town, which was only two minutes from her small green house — her home.

  The lights changed to green further ahead. Several cars overtook her. She looked at her grey wristwatch for the time. The illuminated blue numbers said six o’clock.

  As Abagail looked back to the road, a tall dark figure stood directly in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes and the yellow Beetle slid wildly to a stop only inches from this crazy person. Abagail let out an anguished sigh of relief as the figure wasn’t hit, but turned away to watch as a power pole just ahead toppled over onto the road. Sparks and small explosions accompanied its demise.

  Abagail’s mouth fell open as other cars also stopped suddenly from different directions, just short of the live power lines stretching back up towards the adjacent still?standing poles.

  The tall dark figure turned back around, headed to the passenger door and let himself in. He sat down, closed the door and flashed a serious grin at Abagail.

  ‘You know, I could fall for a girl like you, Abagail.’

  ‘Rupert! Did you just save my life AGAIN?’ asked Abagail, quickly allowing her serious and unfazed personality to refill her temporarily shell?shocked fragile state. Her piercing brown eyes began to settle upon him.

  ‘No. Just your beautiful yellow Beetle this time. Well… that’s putting it simply… but… we should drive on. I love a good drive.’

  Abagail didn’t hesitate and followed several other cars to the left and away from the building traffic.

  ‘I can’t let anything unexpected happen to my favourite medium of Moriset, can I now?’

  ‘I’m the only medium in Moriset, Rupert. Which you know, I know.’

  ‘I know,’ he smiled, ‘you know.’

  ‘Don’t start those word games please, Rupert. And what on earth are you wearing anyway?’ frowned Abagail, hiding a smile. ‘You look like Zorro in that black hat and cape.’

  ‘Well, I wanted to get dressed up for tonight,’ he answered confidently. ‘Saving a damsel in distress is such fun.’

  ‘Hmmm, and should I ask… what are you going to do with yourself now I’m dropping you off shortly, my hero? Or will I regret asking?’

  A fire truck with lights flashing passed by on the opposite side of the road on its way to the fallen power pole.

  ‘Wilbur Warburton is in town tonight,’ declared Rupert.

  ‘Aww, really?’ answered Abagail with surprise. Wilbur had been her inspiration into the field of magic. ‘You know I love his work.’

  ‘Settled. We’ll head off to his show then. There’re a few seats left. His show starts in thirty minutes at the Dawn Theatre.’

  ‘You sure know how to close the deal on a date, Rupert,’ challenged Abagail, pretending to be slightly put out, though she was in fact excited, relieved, and in need of some magic.

  They got out, closed the doors, locked the car and proceeded to walk to the front of the Dawn Theatre. A dozen or so spacious cement steps led to the well?lit huge glass doors up top. Once inside, they walked towards the ticket office beside the snacks counter. Rupert whispered in her ear:

  ‘Buy two tickets, please, Abagail. I hate not being seated next to you.’

  ‘Very well,’ shrugged Abagail. ‘Two tickets for Wilbur Warburton, please.’

  ‘Both adults?’ asked the attendant plainly.

  ‘Yes thanks, he’s just gone to the bathroom.’

  ‘Row Five, seats A and B,’ said the attendant, handing over the tickets.

  ‘Don’t lose my ticket, dear. It will be nice to attend a show with a real ticket for once.’

  Abagail smiled a little at the attendant, making sure not to look at Rupert, who was in fact invisible to the attendant.

  At the end of the long-carpeted walkway, Abagail joined the large gathering of ticket holders waiting outside the still?unopened doors behind two doormen.

  ‘What a fine bunch of Morisettions we have here tonight,’ said Rupert, standing beside her. ‘They’re in for a show.’

  Rupert vanished, only to appear from the landing above, waving at her.

  ‘There must be three or four hundred here tonight. Good crowd,’ he shouted. No one but Abagail could hear him.

  As the doors opened and people hurried forward, Abagail was shocked when, on reaching the doormen, Rupert appeared to stand up and be temporarily visible. The man took the two tickets without fuss.

  Once inside, the dark room held only tiny pink floor lights that led the way towards the seating. Rupert disappeared.

  Seated on the aisle seat, Abagail regularly moved her legs aside for everyone with tickets to Aisle Five. When a man attempted later to sit beside her, he was shocked to find a man in the chair he hadn’t noticed in the dark.

  ‘Move on, buddy,’ suggested Rupert. On watching him move on, Rupert added, ‘He’s not your type.’

  ‘How do you know?’ quizzed Abagail.

  ‘He already has two women believing they’re the only woman in his life. Nasty fellow really. Many lessons to be learned with that one.’

  ‘So you saved me more problems twice in one night?’ smiled Abagail, looking at the high ceiling with sparkling white lights and occasional flashing red ones.

  Rupert put his fingers to his cheeks and showed a playful grin.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome… Wilbur Warburton!!” said the deep male voice introducing him onto the stage.

  Wilbur rode a small white pony onto the stage, causing roars of applause.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The show went well. Rabbits out of hats. People appearing from cupboards. All sorts of mainstream magic tricks. But since the pony, nothing had really grabbed the audience’s attention. This was disappointing to Rupert.

  So, when Wilbur’s assistant prepared to be levitated into the air in her costume fit for a Copacabana foray, Rupert saw a little room for — let’s say — mystery. More excitement.

  The horizontal assistant reached the five?foot mark and, to her dismay at first — before it was replaced with sheer panic — continued ever upwards.

  The audience was suddenly on the edge of their seats. Higher she climbed, waving her arms around in panic. Wilbur looked visibly shocked and wondered how on earth she was continuing to rise as his composure broke.

  Once she started yelling for help on nearing the ceiling and members of the audience approached the stage, unable to restrain themselves from a possible emergency, Rupert’s work was done.

  The spotlight became wobbly. The script was not being followed.

  Wilbur's distorted features began to settle on seeing his assistant slowly descend. His bright white teeth glistened in the now returned spotlight, as thunderous applause echoed throughout the room. Copious amounts of sweat now seen as a reflection of his glistening hard work. His gritted teeth now looked steely strong. Wilbur looked amazed. The assistant, unable to tell if Wilbur had been suddenly gifted some god-like talent, burst into tears of joy as she neared the stage floor. A bunch of would-be heroes who had left their chairs to render assistance found their faces lit in the spotlights. All awestruck. All held in the wonder, the magnificence, the presence of the stupendous Wilbur Warburton. Wilbur flashed a long-held wink to the crowd, to make them feel like they were in on the trick. On an all-time high, Wilbur wrapped up the show a full ten minutes early. Spinning a dozen plates on sticks wasn't needed tonight. He spent that ten minutes being given four standing ovations, with his levitating assistant clapping along in rapture. Wilbur continued to look every so often at the ceiling. He placed his hands over his eyes in amazement at his own greatness. His eyes, a kaleidoscope of sparkling energy, revealed to his fans again and again. He knew how to milk an audience when the going was good and he'd never had it so good.

  'You know Rupert,' said Abagail, descending the stairs towards the street. 'I know what you did in there.'

  'I know. Did you like it?' asked Rupert, happily.

  Abagail burst into laughter a moment. She regained a straight face and nodded. 'Fantastic!'

  'Absolutely,' replied Rupert, pompously.

  'What of poor Wilbur when he is unable to replicate that tremendous feat in the future,' grinned Abagail, wickedly.

  'I didn't think of that,' realised Rupert. 'Are you hungry?' asked Rupert.

  'Starving,' admitted Abagail.

  'I know just the perfect place,' said Rupert, with anticipation.

  'Brilliant,' admitted Abagail. 'I can't face another night of crackers and cheese.'

  'Ough,' shuddered Rupert. 'We can't have that. What kind of cheese?'

  'Camembert, now come on,' she insisted.

  They climbed into the yellow beetle and drove away.

  'I love Camembert,' smiled Rupert. 'What kind of crackers?'

  'Mhmm,' grunted Abagail.

  *

  'You look preoccupied,' suggested Rupert, watching Abagail devour hot curry prawns and rice.

  'There's a couple over on the right constantly watching me talking to myself,' she explained.

  'I would be intrigued for a moment too I suppose,' agreed Rupert.

  Abagail took out her phone from her small black handbag and talked into it, as two waiters dressed all in black raced past. Both adjoining levels of the dark restaurant were full.

  'Maybe I'll just pretend to be on the phone for a while.'

  'You do that,' said Rupert, confidently. 'Let me tell you a story.'

  Abagail looked quickly to see that the couple were still watching her. She looked at Rupert.

  'Go ahead.' She ate.

  'I'm your guardian angel as you know.'

  'I know,' said Abagail, chewing on some tiger prawn.

  'But you haven't met your other three guardians. Would you like to?'

  Abagail nodded slightly.

  'Right, that settles it then. Here's Astar.'

  A tall young blonde-haired white girl of around 14 appeared sitting beside Rupert at their booth. Astar just looked happily at Abagail. Her multi-coloured dress sparkled.

  'Greetings Abagail,' she delicately expressed.

  Abagail looked surprised.

  'I've sensed your presence before. Several times,' explained Abagail. 'You look about five feet ten, like me.'

  'And one-half,' giggled Astar.

  'Not to be outdone, here's Sitting Wolf,' explained Rupert, with flair. 'Shorter than five ten, I may add.'

  'How tall are you?' asked Abagail. 'Six three?'

  Rupert nodded.

  The sudden appearance of a long dark-haired, 30-ish-year-old Native American with a chiseled brown face, little expression and a peaceful strength was exactly what Abagail had expected to see.

  'Yum, this is delicious, Sitting Wolf. Would you like to try some from my plate?' asked Abagail.

  Sitting Wolf smiled. 'No thanks, I brought my own.'

  A carved wooden bowl and spoon appeared before him. He took the spoon, leaned forward and scooped a large amount of Abagail's curry prawns into his bowl. Abagail was fascinated as he tried a little from the bowl and smiled.

  'Good.' He smiled.

  Astar giggled, Rupert smiled.

  'And that leaves one to go,' smiled Rupert.

  'Last but not least,' giggled Astar.

  Abagail watched as a black rabbit appeared beside her. He sat up and looked at Abagail.

  'It's nice to finally meet you Abagail,' said the rabbit, wiggling his nose.

  'Oh, he's so cute,' smiled Abagail.

  'Tibber rabbit's a killer,' warned Rupert, with a grin.

  'A defender of our world,' added Sitting Wolf.

  'He likes sweet potato,' added Astar.

  Abagail looked a little relieved by Astar's choice of words. Until—

  'But don't be deceived,' Astar continued. 'Many foes have been destroyed by just a simple wiggle of his nose.'

  Abagail put her fork down and looked at the rabbit with intense cautiousness.

  They all suddenly laughed while the rabbit handed Abagail a seed.

  'What's this seed?' asked Abagail, unsure.

  'Oh that,' grinned Rupert, 'A giant sweet potato seed. Very very rare,' he insisted.

  'He wants you to plant it in your vegetable garden,' explained Astar.

  'It's a bit late for that,' advised Abagail. 'Summer is nearly over.'

  'Fiddlesticks,' suggested Rupert. 'Summer is never over. It just moves further down the road.'

  Abagail shrugged and placed the seed into a zipped section within her black handbag.

  'Ok?' smiled Abagail.

  'Good evening Miss. I'm the manager here, Tom Marks,' said the man now standing beside her.

  Abagail just looked blankly back.

  'Is everything okay? We've been told you seem to be acting funny.'

  'Oh, no,' shrugged Abagail. 'Everything's fine. This curry is brilliant. Love it. It's the best!'

  'Absolutely,' agreed Rupert. 'And may I say you're doing a superb job. This culinary masterpiece wasn't just cooked, it was clearly summoned—'

  'Why thank you very much,' said the manager. 'I can see you're sitting here all alone, and well, another couple said you were talking to yourself a lot and acting funny. It was making them feel... uneasy?' he continued.

  'That's understandable,' nodded Rupert. 'It would make me uneasy too.'

  Abagail would have kicked Rupert if she could, but she couldn't.

  'Maybe they're the funny ones,' concluded Rupert.

  The manager turned about to look at the couple. To his utter dismay, they were now wearing red noses and were dressed like colourful clowns. The whole restaurant was now laughing in hysterics, as the manager hurried over and insisted they get up and leave. The fact that they both found themselves dressed as clowns left them speechless. Quickly they both threw down some cash and made a run for the exit. Their extra large shoes clip?clopping, while a weird farting sound accompanied their highly entertaining exit. Even the manager's annoyance turned to belly laughs, as he watched them awkwardly climb into their silver Mercedes-Benz and speed away.

  Abagail watched her guardians laughing for a little while longer before settling down. The whole restaurant was on a high as none other than Wilbur Warburton himself, with one woman on each arm, marched into the room. Many people started to talk amongst themselves that the clowns had been of Wilbur's making. Once Wilbur was seated and the manager and staff pressed him on this point with smiles and free champagne, he neither denied nor admitted to it. A true master never divulged his personal tricks to his immediate audience.

  'Well, this has been a fantastic evening Rupert, but it's getting late and I have work tomorrow,' explained Abagail.

  'So you have,' agreed Rupert, standing up.

  'Ciao,' said Sitting Wolf, and vanished.

  'Auf Wiedersehen,' giggled Astar, and vanished.

  'Are you taking that toy rabbit home with you?' asked Rupert.

  Abagail picked up the soft toy rabbit.

  'He turned into a toy!' exclaimed Abagail, with surprise. 'But I like the real thing much better.'

  She placed it back down beside her. The rabbit turned back into a real rabbit.

  'Goodbye Abagail,' said the rabbit, and vanished.

  'Hmm, most people wouldn't have let that toy rabbit go,' explained Rupert.

  'Rupert, you're the only toy boy I need around me at the moment old chum.'

  Rupert followed Abagail over to the counter. The manager insisted the meal was complimentary so declined to be paid. Abagail thanked him and they left.

  But to everyone there, Abagail walked out of the restaurant alone.