LITMIR.BIZ

      smé arrived back at Highwood Road, left her shopping bag next to the big Buddha in the hallway and ran upstairs to find Monty. He was standing in their shared bedroom with a stuffed toy elephant on his head.

      “At last, my willing assistant Esmé is here,” Monty announced smoothly, as if he were a well-rehearsed TV presenter who had been churned into butter and spread thickly on toast. “Aloha, Miss Esmé Pepper. Welcome to the Hiding the Elephant trick. Come feel the weight of the elephant and let me hoist the heavy animal on to your shoulders, then see if I can make you both disappear.”

      It was clear that Monty’s interest in magic had not abated since Uncle Potty’s disastrous trick.

      “Where’s Uncle Potty?” asked Esmé.

      “He’s downstairs fiddling with the laptop. Now, I must continue – let me hoist the heavy ani––”

      “Monty, I have to talk to you,” said Esmé earnestly. “The IMG are in trouble. They might be closed down if we don’t help them. That’s why Uncle Potty’s getting all his tricks wrong. He’s a bag of nerves.”

      Monty looked crossly at his sister.

      “I think that Uncle Potty would have mentioned any nerves to me,” Monty replied, irritated that Esmé was interrupting his trick. “I am his new assistant, his trusted aide. I have access to the inner workings of the conjuror’s mind, and would be able to tell if my own uncle was nervous or not.”

      “Oh, don’t be so silly,” said Esmé. “They have to do a big show for the Pan-Continental Magic Corporation the day after tomorrow. Jimi at CostSnippas has told me all about it.”

      Monty took the elephant off his head. “And Jimi knows, because he does all the IMG catering.”

      Monty sighed.

      “I think we should try and help,” concluded Esmé.

      “OK, fine,” agreed Monty at last. “The International Magic Guys cannot disappear, just like that. Why don’t we take out a TV advert where Uncle Potty explains the problems of the IMG, and appeals to people to donate their money to the club?” suggested Monty. “I saw something similar about sponsoring pandas.”

      Esmé was slightly taken aback by Monty’s lack of media knowledge. “You do know it costs thousands of pounds to take out a TV advert?” she told him.

      “Uncle Potty and I could write that book about magic ourselves, so if we do that we’ll get someone famous to write the introduction – like the Queen or one of Hunkatron, the boy band – then we will sell loads of copies and the money we make could pay for the ad.”

      “It takes a long time to write a book, get it published and earn royalties,” explained Esmé, realising that her brother did not have a grasp on such realities.

      Monty was thoughtful. “I could always sell my cape,” he said.

      Esmé meanwhile had come up with a sensible idea.

      “You’ve got the Dr Pompkins book, right? What we should do is collect the best, most fail-safe tricks and work on a programme that we can present to Uncle Potty. Right now he needs to focus. We can help him put together a show that can’t fail to impress the PCMC.”

      Monty agreed enthusiastically, grabbed Dr Pompkins and set about marking its pages as Esmé crept downstairs to grab her new notebook.

      Together, she and Monty started compiling the best tricks from the book, from a simple rabbit-in-hat trick to something called “The Cage of Possibilities”, which involved a box inside a twirling cage and a quick change of personnel. Leafing through the book, Monty saw a trick that he wanted to perform himself – the Dairy Creamer Eye Splurge.