however, didn’t move.
‘Time!’ Maxwell called. ‘Pass me your papers!’
Mallory handed hers across then looked at Grace. ‘But you haven’t written anything.’
Grace smiled. ‘I don’t need to.’
‘Oh really? And why is that?’
‘I remember,’ Grace said.
Maxwell and Mallory exchanged a look.
‘Well, go on then!’ Mallory crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘Prove it!’
Grace took a deep breath. ‘One thimble; four needles of various sizes stuck into a pincushion in the shape of a green tomato; a small red rubber ball; a box of Bromo; two shillings, one heads side up, one tails; a glass ring, emerald cut; a letter opener with an ivory handle; a letter addressed to the leader of the Labour Party, unopened; a tortoiseshell comb; a leather hunting flask; a bill of sale from Ogden’s bookshop in Bloomsbury for two books, totalling one pound, two shillings; a folded road map for Dorset; a used packet of Chesterfields; a token from a fairground ride; a china salt shaker in the shape of a duck; a nail file; and a teaspoon with the letters “VM” engraved on the handle.’
Mallory blinked. She turned to Maxwell, who examined the contents of the tray.
‘My God, that’s uncanny!’ he said, looking back up.
‘How can you do that?’ Mallory asked.
Grace shook her head, her cheeks colouring. ‘I don’t know. It’s a rather useless talent, actually.’
‘Go on,’ Mallory pointed to the next larger tray. ‘Do that one.’
Again, the tray was uncovered for a minute and then re-covered.
Grace flashed Mallory a smile. ‘Do I get another drink for this?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘A small black leather notebook and a gold pencil; a ball of twine; two horn buttons probably from a sweater …’ Again, Grace proceeded to reel off another twenty objects, in great detail, with eerie accuracy.
By now a small crowd had gathered around them.
‘What’s she doing?’
‘She doesn’t even need to write them down!’
‘She’s cheating!’ someone shouted out.
‘Impossible!’ Mallory turned on them. ‘She’s never even played the game before.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ someone else chimed in. ‘This is a set-up.’
‘Have you hired her, Maxwell? Is this a joke?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he assured them. ‘Everything’s on the up and up.’
‘Like your candidates?’
A roar of laughter.
The crowd continued to swell.
‘Make her do another one!’
‘Make it harder this time!’
Grace reached out for Mallory’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she whispered.
‘We can’t go now. You’ve been accused of cheating. It will look like you’re guilty. Besides, you’re winning,’ she added with a grin.
Phillip Maxwell was enjoying the high drama of the occasion too.
‘Fine,’ he agreed, tipping the contents of one of the trays out on the counter. ‘We shall give this young woman a real challenge!’ He whispered in the ear of one of the waiters, who hurried away, returning moments later with an evening bag ornamented with black jet beads.
Maxwell held it up with a flourish. ‘My wife Vanessa’s handbag, ladies and gentlemen! Who knows what mysteries lurk in its dark depths!’
Laughter.
‘There is no possible way that this girl could know the contents – not even I know the contents and, quite frankly, I’m not certain I want to!’
More laughter and a smattering of applause.
‘And just to up the stakes, this time I’ll uncover the tray for only half a minute! Now, turn around,’ he instructed Grace, who did as she was told, turning to face the crowd of people who had gathered behind her. She could hear Maxwell emptying the handbag, arranging the objects on the tray.
Finally he gave her the go-ahead.
Mallory took her by the shoulders. ‘Are you ready?’
Grace nodded.
Mallory turned her round and Maxwell unveiled the tray. After only thirty seconds he covered it again.
‘Your time starts – now!’ he said, looking at his stopwatch.
Grace concentrated. ‘A linen handkerchief with the letters “VM” embroidered in one corner in white silk thread; a green enamel and gold powder compact; a tube of Hiver lipstick; an alligator change purse; a small tin of Wilson’s headache pills; a silver cigarette case; a torn Cadbury’s wrapper with half a piece of chocolate; an empty matchbox from the Carlisle Hotel; a ticket stub for the seven-twenty showing at the Regent Cinema in Edinburgh; a latchkey; a mother-of-pearl-and-gold cigarette lighter …’
She stopped, her face suddenly draining of colour.
‘A mother-of-pearl-and-gold cigarette lighter,’ she repeated slowly, ‘with the words “Always and Evermore” engraved on the side.’
The crowd burst into a round of enthusiastic applause.
‘It’s amazing!’ Maxwell raved. ‘Absolutely incredible! How could you even see what was engraved on that lighter?’
But Grace didn’t seem to hear him. ‘I’m sorry, you said this is your wife’s handbag?’
‘The very same,’ he beamed back at her. ‘Another round of applause for our champion, ladies and gentlemen! I’ll be renaming this stall Mrs Memory from now on!’
Cheers and applause.
Unseen hands clapped Grace on the back as she pushed her way through the crowds, desperately searching for the exit.
‘Well done.’
‘Very impressive.’
‘What a clever girl!’
Head pounding, palms sweating, she felt unreal, as if she were moving through the distorted landscape of a dream; her mind shrinking in on itself, focusing down to a single terrible point.
It couldn’t be true.
It
