Chance Developments (9 page)

They toured British Columbia for six weeks. Eddie's act proved popular, eliciting gasps of astonishment from the audience as he made the human cannonball's dog disappear and then reappear in a totally unexpected place. Occasionally he would do the same with a child, if there were a suitable volunteer from the audience, but the manager eventually vetoed that after a mother became distraught, believing her child really had dematerialised.

After a month, Mr. Vink, who had returned to Toronto, wrote to Mr. Beaulieu and said that he would not be required to send any further money. “The report I have from my manager over there is that your boy is doing really well,” he said. “I shall take over the payment of his salary now and I shall wire back the sum you have just sent me. He is worth every cent, they tell me.” This was followed by some news of his stomach. “I'm feeling so much better, you'll be pleased to hear. I can eat anything I fancy (not that I do, mind) and that acidic feeling I had is a thing of the past.”

Mr. Beaulieu showed the letter to his wife. He found it difficult to believe, but it seemed that Eddie had found what he was looking for.

“He's obviously working hard,” Mrs. Beaulieu said. “But do you think he's happy, Aristide?”

Mr. Beaulieu shrugged. “What's happiness?” he asked. “You ever found a good definition of it?”

Had they asked Eddie that question, they would have had an uncomplicated answer. Happiness, he thought, was being able to do what you want to do—and what he was now doing was exactly what he had always wished to do. After each performance, with the audience's applause ringing in his ears, he felt almost as if he had to pinch himself. This is
me
, he thought; they're clapping
me
.

The friends he had made right at the beginning, when he had first joined the circus in New Westminster, continued to be good friends. Frank only very occasionally asked for his help—mostly with collecting meat from the butcher for William Lion Mackenzie King—or occasionally with some small maintenance chore. As his conjuring act became more and more popular, the manager relieved him of his ticket collecting and clearing-up duties and assigned these, instead, to a boy whom they had engaged in Calgary—a sullen youth with an angry, pock-marked skin and shifty eyes.

Eddie told this youth's fortune for him. “You're going to get into trouble,” he said, pointing to a line on the boy's hand. “Big trouble, it seems.”

“What's new?” muttered the boy.

He struck up a friendship with the dwarf, who also asked for his fortune to be told. “You're going to be big,” said Eddie, hastily correcting himself. “I mean, your career will be big.”

The dwarf looked at him reproachfully.

“And rich,” said Eddie quickly. “Look at this fortune line. See that? That tells us everything we need to know. There's big money coming your way.”

Charles told Eddie something about himself. “I've been entertaining since I was ten,” he said. “My father left home and I had to earn money to keep my mother. She's too small to work. Mind you, I'm not complaining. I have a good time. I get to laugh a lot and I make good money.” He paused, and pushed his hand back towards Eddie. “Do you see anything there about the police?” he asked.

Eddie looked. “No, nothing.”

“You darn sure?”

“Yes, I'm darn sure. There's nothing there about the police. Nothing.”

“Good,” said Charles. “That's the way I like it.” Then he said, “Ruby? What do you think of her, Eddie?”

“I like her.”

Charles nodded. “You think she likes you?”

“I hope so,” said Eddie.

“Well,” said the dwarf, “I can tell you something. Ruby thinks you're great. She said as much to me. She said, ‘Eddie's great.' Those were her exact words.”

Eddie beamed with pleasure. So Ruby thought highly of him? Well, the feeling was entirely reciprocated. He admired Ruby. He liked her cheerful expression; he liked her sense of humour. He liked the way she made up witty remarks for Harold, no matter what the context was. He admired her style.

Was it possible, he wondered, that Ruby liked him in
that way
? He found the idea intriguing—and exciting. She was quite a bit older than him, of course, but he did not think that mattered. Older women were far more interesting than those vacuous girls of eighteen or nineteen. They were just interested in their appearance, he felt. They thought about their clothes and their complexion all the time; they never read anything about anything. They were a lost cause to Pelmanism—they wouldn't have the sticking power. Useless girls. Useless.

Ruby and Frank discussed Eddie's progress.

“You know something, Rube?” Frank remarked one evening. “Young Eddie's born for this particular life. He's got
circus
written all over him. What do you think?”

They were sitting in Ruby's trailer, passing the hour or so before the show was due to begin in the drinking of tea and catching up on the day's events. Ruby made sandwiches for these occasions, including the egg and cress sandwiches that were Frank's one major weakness.

“You're right, Frank,” she said. “Some people have it—others don't.”

“You could probably say that about most jobs, of course,” said Frank. “Those folks over in Ottawa, for instance. They need to be a certain type of person. Mackenzie King, for instance—not our Mackenzie King, of course—the Prime Minister. He must want to be Prime Minister. He must love it.”

“He works hard enough to keep it,” said Ruby.

“Poor fellow,” mused Frank. “He's lost so many members of his family. He must be mighty lonely up there. Driven him to this spiritualism stuff, Eddie says.”

“Eddie? What does he know about it?”

“Apparently he knows this woman in Kingston who's a medium of some sort. She says the Prime Minister comes to see her regularly. Gets his fortune told. Eddie's interested in that stuff.”

Ruby shook her head. “Leave well alone, I always say.”

“I'm inclined to agree,” said Frank.

“He needs to meet somebody, Frank. He needs to meet a girl. I've seen it so often, you know—a young man takes himself too seriously, goes on about something, and then he meets a girl and you don't hear much more from him.”

Frank wondered whether Pelmanism would be forgotten if Eddie met a girl. Was that what Ruby meant?

“Yes,” she said. “Girls aren't interested in Pelmanism, Frank. He'd learn pretty quickly not to talk about it if he met a nice girl.”

Ruby lapsed into silence, prompting an enquiry from Frank: “You all right, Rube?”

“Thinking,” she said, and then, “Jack's got a niece, you know. Over in Saskatoon. She's about Eddie's age—maybe a bit younger. Jack tells me that her parents are keen to find a suitable young man for her. They haven't had much luck up to now.”

Jack was the human cannonball.

“Do you think you could try to get them together?” Frank asked.

“I don't see why not,” said Ruby. “I'll have a word with Jack. He likes Eddie, you know.”

“I believe Eddie told him he had a great future,” Frank said. “Not that I'm suggesting that's the reason why Jack likes him. But it helps, I think. Somebody comes along and tells you you've got a great future…well, it's human nature, isn't it?”

Ruby laughed. “The other day he asked if he could tell my fortune.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “Well, I agreed. I don't believe any of that. Gypsies and so on. Tarot cards.”

“But you said he could?”

“Why not? He's going to do it tomorrow, he told me. Innocent fun, Frank.” She reached for the plate of sandwiches. “Another sandwich?”

“You spoil me.”

“And why not?”

Frank looked about him. He loved the comfort of Ruby's trailer. He liked the neat antimacassars on the chairs. He liked the way that she made the trailer into a home. It was just a basic trailer, a cart really, but she transformed it into something much more than that. Somebody—one of the dancers, he thought—had said to him that there was a German word to describe the atmosphere that Ruby's trailer created.
Gemütlichkeit
. It was a great word—if you could get your mouth about it.

“All right,” said Ruby. “I'm ready.”

Eddie sat himself in front of her. His chair was slightly lower than hers, and that meant he was looking up into her face. In ordinary circumstances he would not have liked that—being lower than the person whose fortune he was telling—but it did not seem to matter with Ruby.

“Can you give me your hand, please?”

Ruby stretched out her right hand, and Eddie took it. His touch was slightly damp, she thought, but then the weather was hot and everybody was damp. She watched as he examined her palm, bending his head forward to peer at the lines and creases.
I must get a gentler soap
, she thought.
You have to watch what soap does to your skin—it could change your whole future!

“You're smiling,” said Eddie. “What's the joke?”

“Just something I thought of,” said Ruby. “Sorry, I didn't mean to put you off your stride.”

“That's all right,” said Eddie. “Pelmanism teaches you to concentrate. That's one of its big things, you know.”

“I must read about it some day,” said Ruby.

“I've got a pamphlet,” said Eddie. “I can bring it round…”

She cut him off. “Not just yet, Eddie. I'm reading Dickens. It's a big book. Some other time, perhaps.” She paused. “Now this hand of mine—what do you see? Am I going to be rich?”

Eddie shook his hand. “Not rich, no. Nor poor, really. You see this line here? That's wealth. Yours goes down there, but it's not as long as some I've seen. I'd say that you're going to be comfortably off. Yes, that's probably the best way of putting it.”

“Well, who would have known?” said Ruby.

“Your life line's good,” said Eddie. “It's this one here. You're going to have a good, long life.”

Ruby chuckled. “That's a relief. I wouldn't want to think I'd be run over by a train next week.”

“The hand doesn't give such specific information,” said Eddie. There was a note of reproach in his voice.

“Sorry,” said Ruby. “It's just that I felt quite relieved to hear what you had to say about that.”

“That's understandable,” said Eddie.

He turned her wrist slightly and the pressure of his fingers increased. She felt an urge to withdraw her hand, but did not do so. One of his fingers was moving slightly, as if stroking her. She frowned, and the movement stopped.

“This line is all about love,” said Eddie, pointing with his free hand. “You will meet somebody who really loves you and you'll ask him to marry you—no, I meant: he'll ask you to marry him. And you must marry him. When the question comes, you must say yes, because he loves you very dearly and he'll make a good husband for you.”

She caught her breath. “Tell me about him,” she said—and then immediately regretted it.
I should end this now.

“He's a bit younger than you,” said Eddie. “You may already have met him, I think…Let me look closer…Yes, I think you have.”

She withdrew her hand. He tried to keep hold of it, but his own hand had become sweatier, and it slipped. She rose to her feet, adjusting her skirt.

“Well, Eddie,” she said cheerfully. “That was a very interesting experience. I'm glad that my future is not entirely bleak.”

He seemed flustered.

“I've made some sandwiches,” she said. “And a pot of tea. I'll give Frank a shout—I'm sure he'll want to join us.”

Eddie fingered his collar. “I didn't really finish the reading,” he said.

She was firm. “Some other time…maybe.”

When Frank arrived the atmosphere of slight tension seemed to dissipate. William Lion Mackenzie King was off his food for some reason, and that became the topic of conversation.

“Give him a dose of salts,” suggested Eddie.

Frank asked whether animals responded to a dose of salts in the same way as humans. “Can you give salts to animals?”

“Yes,” said Eddie. “My uncle's dog was always getting these turns, you see. I told my uncle to give him salts. He did, and he always got better.”

“I could try,” said Frank. “But with him off his food, how am I going to get the salts into him?”

“In his water,” said Eddie.

“I've made sandwiches,” said Ruby.

Frank brightened. “Egg and cress?”

“Specially for you,” said Ruby, smiling at him.

Eddie watched. She didn't listen, he thought. She didn't listen. That was the problem with so many people—they didn't listen. That's why they needed Pelmanism to help them. If more people did Pelmanism, then more of them would listen. It was so obvious.

On their second night in Calgary, immediately after a show to a packed tent, fire broke out among the wagons and trailers. The cause was uncertain, and the damage was relatively light—it could have been far worse had the fire started while people were still in the tent. As it was, the fire trucks reached them within minutes and extinguished the blaze before it could take hold. A large truck used for storing seating was destroyed and so was Ruby's trailer. She was not in it at the time, as she had a cousin in Calgary and she had gone off to spend the night in her house.

They had no means of contacting her. When she returned the following morning, she saw Frank standing outside the charred shell of her trailer, along with the manager and the human cannonball. She screamed, and Frank spun round. He ran to meet her.

“We don't know what happened,” he said. “Probably a cigarette tossed down by some passer-by—smoulders away and then, well…thank heavens you weren't in it.”

She entered the charred ruins of the trailer—a barely recognisable mass of twisted metal, ash, and fragments of glass.

“Harold,” she muttered.

Frank took her hand. “I found him,” he said.

He led her away. On a small table erected by the manager, the burned frame of the ventriloquist's doll was laid out, like a human victim of a conflagration. The wires that had been used to operate his limbs and his lips were twisted into a blackened bundle.

“I'm so sorry about this,” said the manager. “It must be a real loss to you.”

She said nothing. She reached out to touch what had been Harold's head. Her fingers came away blackened. She rubbed these against her skirt, marking it.

“What do you want to do?” whispered Frank.

She shrugged. “Carry on, I suppose.”

“That's the spirit,” said the manager. “We all carry on.”

She shot him a glance, and he looked away quickly.

The human cannonball came up to her and put an arm round her shoulder. “He was a great prop, Harold was,” he said. “He wouldn't have known anything about it. The heat was very intense.”

Her mouth twisted. “Thank you, Jack,” she said.

The manager had an idea. “There'll be an insurance claim,” he said. “It will more than cover a new doll.”

She nodded her thanks. “I just want to cry,” she said quietly. “I just want to cry by myself.” But then she looked up sharply. “What about tonight? What about the show?”

Frank stroked his chin. “Come along with me, Rube. I've got a suggestion.”

He looked at the manager, who nodded his assent.

They walked off, watched by Eddie. He had wanted to say something, but had been unable to find the words.

That night was the first time that Frank and Ruby did their act together. They had had no idea that it would be so successful, but the near-hysterical laughter of the audience and the thunderous applause at the end of their act left no doubt in anybody's mind: they had stumbled upon a whole new approach to ventriloquism.

The concept was simple. Frank played the part of the ventriloquist's doll, and perched on Ruby's lap in exactly the same way as Harold had done. She then engaged in conversation with him in which he merely opened and shut his mouth, leaving the speaking to her. What produced the laughter, though, was the occasional spontaneous movement from Frank—wave to the audience, a wink, a pulling of the tongue—while Ruby was looking elsewhere. This just happened to work.

At the end of the first performance the manager came to congratulate them in Ruby's temporary trailer.

“We have just witnessed,” he said, “the inauguration of the greatest ventriloquist act in Canadian history.”

“I'm glad you liked it,” said Frank. “It was just a piece of nonsense, really.”

“Liked it?” the manager exploded. “I
loved
it!”

Harold was never replaced—there was no need. Frank, described in the circus programme as Oscar, the Almost Human, continued in his supporting role, perched on Ruby's lap, a perfect foil for her wit. He still continued to show William Lion Mackenzie King, but that act never provided him with anything like the enjoyment he derived from his role as Oscar. “It's the difference between vaudeville and Shakespeare,” he said to friends. “One pays the rent, the other is art.”

A month after the fire, when they were on tour over the border in Washington State, Frank asked Eddie to come to his trailer.

“I want to talk to you in private,” he said.

Eddie was uneasy; he had a good idea what Frank wanted to talk to him about, and he was correct.

“I think you should know that Rube and I are getting hitched,” said Frank.

Eddie bit his lip. “I see…”

“And I want you to be best man,” said Frank. “I hope you can accept.”

Eddie closed his eyes. This was the biggest challenge his Pelmanism had ever faced. He had to remain calm.

“That's mighty kind of you, Frank. Of course I'd be delighted to do that for you.”

Frank looked relieved. “We're not going to leave it long. Two weeks from now we'll be in Spokane. We'll get a judge up there to marry us.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “That'll be good.” It cost him a great effort to say that, but he did it again when he said, “I'm really pleased.”

Frank went with him to congratulate Ruby. She gave Eddie a hug, and felt him withdrawn and stiff with sorrow.

“You were right, Eddie,” she gushed. “You said I'd already met the man I would marry—and I had! You said he would be a bit younger than me, and Frank is exactly two months younger! It's all there in the palm isn't it? You were absolutely right!”

And so, two weeks later, they appeared before a judge in Spokane. It was a hot afternoon, and the wind on those high plains was dry and persistent.

“Where do you think the wind comes from?” said Ruby. “You know the answer to that, Eddie?”

He turned his head. The warm wind was on his face. If he had tears to shed—and he did—then they would be quickly dried by that wind.

“The wind comes from a happier place,” whispered Ruby. “That's where it comes from.”

He took the photograph. Frank sat on her lap, wearing his best white Stetson. “You happy, Oscar?” she asked. And from Frank's closed mouth came the reply, “Very happy, love.”