Mrs. Houdini(33)

She spotted Harry at one of the tables and took a seat next to him. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Good morning. I didn’t want to wake you. You’re not mad I left you, are you?”

Bess shook her head. “Of course not.” She was stunned he had ventured off on his own.

A waiter put a cup of black coffee in front of her. “Ham or—?” He stopped. Bess looked at Harry, confused.

“One ham, one or, please,” Harry said, and everyone laughed.

“Or means eggs,” Mrs. McCarthy told Bess from across the table. “You can only pick one.” But she was amused. Harry looked at Bess, pleased with himself.

They both ordered eggs, and Bess turned back to Mrs. McCarthy. “Last night, Welsh said something about cakes. What are cakes?”

Mrs. McCarthy laughed again; it came from deep in her stomach, a kind of bellow. “Cakes means meals. He means you get your meals included when you work here.”

Bess nodded, relieved. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about food for the time being. She wondered what they would do with their salary if they didn’t have to pay for meals or lodging. She supposed Harry would want them to save it.

“Does anyone ever take a room in town, away from the trucks?” she asked, out of curiosity. She worried how Harry would fare in their close quarters over time.

Mrs. McCarthy shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that, hon. It’ll look bad for you. Everyone here does everything together. That’s the way it’s always been. There ain’t no privacy, but that’s the life.”

Bess looked over at Harry, who was talking to two of the men animatedly about their acts. She turned back to Mrs. McCarthy. “I almost forgot. Do you know where I can find an oven?”

“Bribed some of the men with food, did ya?” She nodded toward the back of the tent. “There’s no oven, but there’s a stove back there. I did the same thing when I first got here. It’s about the only way to get ’em to like ya if you can’t sleep with ’em.”



“What a sweet creature—what a beautiful face my wife has!”

Harry knelt beside Bess behind the curtained puppet theater, voicing the role of the male puppet, Punch. Beyond the stage, ten circus goers had gathered to watch their performance. Most seemed only minimally interested; the men were chewing tobacco and the children were looking around the tent. In the back corner, Welsh leaned against the pole, his face cool as stone.

Bess slapped Harry’s puppet with hers and looked down at the script. “Keep quiet, dummy! You’re a terrible husband.”

“Don’t be cross, my dear. Give me a kiss.”

“Oh, all right.” Bess kissed his puppet with hers and leaned toward his lips behind the stage. Harry grinned and cupped her brassiere.

“Stop!” Bess slapped his hand away. She whispered, “Do you want to get fired?”

“I didn’t come all the way down here to do some dumb puppet show. Who wrote this script anyway?”

“I don’t know. Welsh said do Punch and Judy before our magic. When we start getting known for our real act we can stop.” In front of the curtain, she maneuvered her puppet’s arms around Punch. “You have sweet lips,” she said in Judy’s high, shrewish voice. “Will you dance with me?”

Punch hit Judy on the nose. “Get out of the way! You don’t dance well enough for me! Go and fetch the baby.”

Bess raised her voice. “You get the baby, you lazy idiot. I’m making the dumplings.”

Bess shoved the puppet baby toward Harry. For the next part of the act, Punch was supposed to get annoyed at its wailing and hit its head against the wall.

“I can’t do it,” Harry whispered.

The audience began to boo. “Git the hook!” one of them cried. “Git ’em outta here!”

Harry stood up from behind the curtain. “Oh, all right!” he cried, throwing down his puppet. “I don’t like this damn doll show any more than you do. Let’s get on with the magic!”

The audience hooted. Bess dropped her puppet, relieved, and stood up beside Harry.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Harry began with a flourish. “I am Harry Houdini, and this is my assistant, Madame Houdini. We are the Master Monarchs of Modern Mystery, and today, you will be the first to witness the greatest novelty mystery act in the world!”

The audience cheered.

Bess retrieved a pair of handcuffs from inside a black bag. “Now you can see,” Harry went on, “that I have nothing—no keys—up my sleeve. Any escapes will be completely unaided and authentic.” He held up his arm. “Now Madame Houdini is going to handcuff my hands behind my back.”

Bess secured the handcuffs tightly. It was a new innovation to the Metamorphosis trick that Harry had devised on one of their afternoon walks through town, when they had passed a man with his hands behind his back being led into the local police station. “Now,” Harry said, “you may have seen ordinary escape tricks before. But I can assure you this is no ordinary escape. We are not using ropes. There has never before been an escape done while handcuffed.”

Bess felt surprisingly at ease. Her new role in Harry’s magic was much more thrilling than her short-lived singing career. She hadn’t been able to draw men’s eyes the way Anna had, but her childlike size was perfectly suited to the manipulations Harry’s tricks required. What was more, Harry was more confident when she was beside him onstage. He seemed to her the best version of himself.