Before Your Very Eyes. Alex George
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said Delphine.
‘OK,’ said Simon.
Delphine clapped her hands in delight.
‘Have you got a fag?’ Simon asked the table in general.
‘Here’s one.’ Stella flung a box of cigarettes at him.
Simon took a cigarette out of the packet and held it up in front of him. There was an expectant silence. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Watch closely.’ He turned towards Delphine and beamed at her.
Simon clenched his left hand into a fist and held it up level with his face. Then he slowly inserted Stella’s cigarette into his fist and pushed it in until it was completely concealed. He opened his hand to show the cigarette.
‘Now,’ said Simon, ‘watch again.’
He performed the same movement. This time, however, before opening his fist he waved it in the air a few times. Then he lowered his hand and opened his fingers one by one, palm upwards, over the table.
The cigarette had vanished.
‘Wow,’ said Delphine. ‘That’s amazing.’
Simon’s heart thumped.
‘All right,’ said Stella, ‘now bring it back.’
‘Can’t, I’m afraid,’ mumbled Simon. ‘It’s gone.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Stella. ‘What sort of a trick is that? Where is it?’
‘It’s vanished,’ explained Simon.
‘Of course it hasn’t vanished,’ replied Stella sarcastically. ‘Where is it? I want it back. Give me my fag back. Thief.’
Simon squirmed in his chair. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Honest. Sorry.’ (The cigarette now lay, out of reach, beneath Simon’s chair, where he had surreptitiously dropped it.)
‘Well if you were a proper magician you could make it come back again,’ said Stella sulkily.
‘Don’t worry, babe,’ said Angus. ‘You can have one of mine.’
‘Oh, sod off, Angus,’ replied Stella.
Simon took another long drink of margarita. He had stopped feeling the drink’s corrosive effect on his larynx some time earlier.
‘I suppose, being a magician, you’ve heard the story about the boy and the magic coin he found,’ said a man on the other side of the table, who up until then had hardly said a word.
There was a collective groan from around the table.
‘God, Joe, not again, please,’ said Heather.
‘I thought Simon might like to hear it if he hasn’t before,’ said Joe.
Simon shrugged. ‘If nobody else minds.’
‘No, I suppose we don’t mind,’ said Angus.
‘Right,’ said Joe. He addressed himself to Simon. ‘There was this young boy called Timmy. He’s walking down the street one day when he spots something gleaming in the gutter. So he goes over and discovers that it’s a foreign-looking coin, one he’s never seen before. So he picks it up and takes it home.’
‘OK,’ said Simon.
‘A couple of days later, Timmy’s sitting in his kitchen, and he puts his hand into his pocket and remembers this old coin that’s sitting there. He takes it out and wipes it on a bit of kitchen paper. And suddenly this voice comes booming out of nowhere. “Timmy, you may have as many wishes as your heart desires.” So obviously it’s a magic coin. Well, Timmy is delighted. He has a think, and then says, “OK, I’ll have three bowls of chocolate ice cream, then.” Just to check out whether this is for real. And sure enough, three bowls of chocolate ice cream appear on the kitchen table. As you can imagine, Timmy can’t believe his luck.’
‘Right,’ said Simon. He noticed that everyone was listening to the story, but that Joe was addressing it to him alone. It felt good to be at the centre of things.
‘Well,’ continued Joe, ‘Timmy is very excited about this, and wants to show off to all his friends. So next day at school he shows them his magic coin and grants them each one wish. Suddenly he’s the most popular boy in the school.
‘That evening he goes home from school, planning all the things that he’s going to ask for. He wants to play football for England, and have a fast car. But most of all –’ Joe held up a finger, ‘– most of all, he wants a shag. He’s desperate to lose his virginity. He wants to be the first in his class. So he decides that tonight will be the night.’
‘Get on with it,’ sighed Stella.
Joe ignored her. ‘OK. So. That evening he goes home and has his tea. He’s a bit subdued. His mother asks if everything is all right, and he replies, well, no, not really, and says that perhaps he’ll have a bath and then go to bed early.
‘In fact, what Timmy wants to do is to have a bath so he smells good,’ explained Joe. ‘He’s decided that he’s going to wish for Posh Spice to be his first shag, and wants to be as fancy as possible for her. So he runs a bath. While the bath is running he splashes on some of his dad’s aftershave, and brushes his teeth.’
‘OK,’ said Simon, nodding. The rest of the people around the table seemed to lean in fractionally.
‘Finally,’ said Joe, ‘he gets into his bath. He puts his magic coin in front of him by the taps. And all he can think about is Posh Spice coming to visit him later in bed.’ Joe put his hands out. ‘Naturally, Timmy gets a hard-on. And the thought occurs to him that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if perhaps he has a quick tactical wank now, just to make sure he doesn’t come too quickly later on.’
‘Right.’ Simon took another swig of margarita.
‘OK. So there Timmy is, in the bath, happily whacking off. And before too long, he ejaculates. So – he’s sitting in the bath, feeling pretty pleased with himself. And you know what sperm looks like in bath water?’
Simon nodded, keen to hear the end of the story. ‘Yeah,’ he said.
At that point the entire table erupted. Fergus banged his hands on the table in appreciation. Everyone else collapsed into hysterics.
‘Hook, line, and sinker,’ gasped Stella between breaths.
‘Well done, old mate,’ said Angus, shaking hands with Joe, who shrugged modestly. ‘Extra special.’
It dawned on Simon that something profoundly awful had just happened. Amidst the laughter, his brain replayed the last few exchanges prior to the onset of hilarity. He swallowed. Everyone else around the table had been in on the joke. They had all been waiting to see if he would take the bait. A feeling of intense and abject self-pity washed over him. He chanced a glance at Delphine, hoping that she, at least, would have risen above such juvenile amusement. She was giggling unstoppably. Simon sighed. That was the end of his chances with her, then. He reached for his glass and downed its contents in one gulp.
‘That’s my boy,’ hooted Fergus. ‘Drown your sorrows. Mind you, nothing to be ashamed about, masturbating in the bath. Even at your age.’
‘At least he came clean,’ said Stella, at which the entire party dissolved into fits of laughter again, leaving Simon sitting there, wondering how soon it would be before he could excuse himself and retreat back to his flat. He stared morosely at his empty glass.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Heather, wiping her eyes. ‘Priceless.’
‘Any chance of some more?’ enquired Simon, holding up his empty glass. He decided that the only feasible method of survival was to get even more drunk than he already was.
‘Coming right up,’ replied Fergus, getting to his feet. ‘Christ,’