Tempting Fate: Part Six

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Andre Masson-Card Trick 1923

VII.

The interplay of light was different, even the very air seemed different to Max. As they walked along the avenue, the horizon stretched out before them indefinitely. He could detect the curvature of the earth —meaning that if they carried on walking as did, in a perfectly straight line, they would eventually reach this point again. There was no end. They were two tiny specks scurrying across the crust of a tiny ball spinning in space. For the first time, Max understood, really comprehended, that the world was round.

A heat haze shrouded the street, as the sun slowly but perceptibly leeched away all colour from their surroundings. Margot had dug out a pair of sunglasses from her small black handbag. As Max raised his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun glinting off the windscreens of the speeding cars, he cursed himself for not showing the same foresight. Each flash of light was like a blade slicing into his pupils. Max felt as exposed as a shucked oyster beneath a half lemon, poised to be squeezed. Glancing at Margot, he noted that she was as composed as ever. Nevertheless, she must have realised —either by intuition or telepathy, perhaps— his distress, because she paused and raised an arm.

Almost immediately, a black cab pulled over and they climbed in.

‘Euston Station, please.’ Margot said to the driver.

The driver started the meter and turned around to face them.

‘Are you young folks catching the train to anywhere nice?’ he asked.

Max looked at him in bewilderment. He was young for a taxi-driver and although his English was good, he spoke with an accent, perhaps German? That wasn’t the strange thing, though. His features were sharp and angular, yet the planes of his face failed to intersect. It was quite unsettling.

‘Oh, not really, just off to Birmingham to visit some friends,’ Max answered, bemused that he had lied for no reason whatsoever.

‘OK then, what time is your train?’ the driver asked, as he started up the engine. ‘Traffic is quite heavy and it is cross-town.’

Max turned to Margot but she was nestled in the corner, staring out of the window at the passing pedestrians. Obviously, it was up to him to make conversation with the driver, who, with his accent and heavy dark jacket (in this weather!) looked like a member of the Gestapo or the Stasi.

‘No particular time. I mean, we haven’t booked it or anything. I believe they run quite frequently, though. Maybe every hour on the half-hour… or is it every half-hour on the hour and at half past? Something like that, anyway… I think. Besides, I am sure we will get to Birmingham before night-time.’

The driver nodded without turning his head. Max hoped this was a sign that he could now stop babbling nonsensically, as it was a real effort not to give himself away. Surely, the driver could tell that he was out of it. Max imagined that the driver wasn’t a taxi-driver at all. He certainly didn’t look like your archetypal, loud-mouthed, pink-shirted, London cabbie. Maybe he was a former Stasi agent freelancing. Max looked again to Margot who, this time, returned his stare after pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.

She didn’t speak, but in his head he could hear her saying not to panic. ‘That’s the cardinal rule, never ever panic.’

Was it a memory? Telepathy again? Whatever the case, Max felt calmer. His hand sought Margot’s hand lying limply on the seat between them, and when they touched, she interlaced their fingers and gave his hand a good squeeze. There, there now, that was much better. Much, much better. He could relax a little, despite the taxi driver watching them intently in the rear view mirror. Max was tempted to tell him to concentrate on the road ahead instead of spying on them, but thought better of it. It probably wouldn’t help matters, might even further arouse his suspicions.

The driver started rooting around in the glove compartment when the taxi stopped at a blocked intersection. After muttering what Max assumed were a string of German swear-words, he exclaimed with evident joy upon finding whatever he was searching for.

The traffic still hadn’t moved when the driver lit up what Max now realised was a joint. He opened the sliding glass panel and offered the joint to Margot, who accepted with a ‘why ever not?’ and an innocently winsome smile. Her left hand remained nestled in Max’s right hand, thankfully. He desperately needed that contact. The puzzle of the driver’s face was still terribly unnerving. Perhaps in some other dimension, those angles would form a pleasing symmetry.

After a couple of drags, Margot asked the driver if she could offer the joint to Max. The traffic had managed to unsnarl itself and they were at last, moving again through streets Max didn’t recognise. The driver nonchalantly waved his hand and said, ‘of course, plenty more where that came from.’

Max took the joint in his free left hand and inhaled deeply. It was strong stuff and it immediately reinforced the effects of whatever hallucinogen Margot had slipped him earlier. After a couple more heavy drags, he passed it back to the driver.

‘Thanks, its good is it not?’ the driver asked, then added, ‘What are all these people doing here?’

‘Yeah, it was excellent, thank you,’ Max answered. He had presumed the remarks about the people were a rhetorical question until he noticed the dubious-looking mob gathering outside as they passed. What indeed, were they doing on such an unprepossessing street corner in this rather unfashionable and frankly, quite desolate part of London? After what seemed a day and age, the taxi pulled up into the rank at Euston Station.

‘Here we are now. It’s eighteen pounds ninety, but we can call it fifteen pounds flat because of that hold-up.’

‘Oh, that’s very generous of you, but really not necessary. After all, you did help the time pass smoothly,’ Margot answered as she disengaged her hand from Max’s and pulled out three ten pound notes from her purse. She handed them over through the panel.

‘Really this is too much,’ he protested.

‘Not at all, your customer service skills are second to none. I can honestly say that this was the best taxi journey of my life.’

‘Thank you very much. I knew you were nice people as soon as I saw you on the street. Enjoy your trip to Birmingham,’ he said, as they tumbled out of the taxi in rather a heap.

Max felt quite dizzy. Margot took his hand and guided him through the entrance to the station.

‘Just concentrate on me, Max. Pay no attention to anyone but me, otherwise you’ll be getting the fear. God knows anyone could get the fear in this hideous hole at the best of times, but I have you covered. Do you trust me, Max?’ she asked him, her voice gentle, her mouth sweetly smiling. Her face, he suddenly realised, was simply angelic. It was like he was seeing her for the first time over again. No. Not true. He had never really seen her before this moment. All the other times were fleeting glimpses from a distance.

He trusted her totally.

But why? Was this trust misplaced? Did he actually know her any better now than he did this morning? This feeling of complete identification and of an absolute, telepathic communication —wasn’t it just an effect of the drugs? But even if it was, as he looked around at the surging crowds with their briefcases and handbags, these forever unreadable and unknowable strangers, he realised that this tenuous connection was all he had. He didn’t hesitate for a second longer.

‘Absolutely, I trust you, Margot. You’re still a complete mystery, of course, but I…feel like this is destined to be.’

‘That’s the spirit; you are your father’s son, after all. Come let’s get something to drink. After that we can sort out tickets and the such-like.. Everything is going to be peachy creamy, isn’t it Max? My brave little soldier.’

‘Peachy fucking creamy indeed.’

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38 thoughts on “Tempting Fate: Part Six

  1. Very enjoyable reading! I remember one time, 20+ yrs ago, I was hitching a lift in the pouring rain miles from home, a car swept up and a door threw open, I jumped into the warm gratefully, then noticed the driver was high as a kite! The car reeked of cannabis smoke, indeed, there was a joint in the ash tray! It was wonderful to be in that car 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I love the unjoined lines in the planes of the taxi driver’s face. Well worth borrowing that one. It will probably fit in somewhere, possibly with a playing card and an allusion to the worth of the face cards. I’ll let that one rumble away. “je les prends où je les trouve” as Jean-Baptiste Poquelin once said in a moment of unrequited madness. By the way, this is serious team work, you two: well done!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you… I like the planes of the taxis driver face, don’t forget that on some other level they may form a pleasing symmetry. Halfway through in part seven, still in transition mode: part eight and nine should have more action and then after that things are going to get weird.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Weird is a compliment, by the way. Much of Dalí is weird. The displacement and replacement of the human vision is more than a party trick: it is an adventure deep into the soul of what we are and what we are not.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Wonderful Mr. Cake, each step further in, is one step deeper into the rabbit hole. I ask myself, should Margot be trusted. As always wonderful writing and the imagery is spectacular. For example, this is terrific, “Max felt as exposed as a shucked oyster beneath a half lemon, poised to be squeezed.” Looking forward to Part Seven. ~ Miss Cranes

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you Miss Cranes… I am inordinately proud of the line, I thought it was great, what with the beating down sun leeching all the colour away. As to Margot, well you will have to wait and see. The answer probably will not in the next instalment, maybe two or three after that. Things are only going to get stranger.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Ahh, peachy creamy…maybe so but I doubt it, lol. Mia picked out my favorite line too. It made me visualize a little oyster with terrified eyes looking up at a lemon slice and a big hand. Very good. Can’t wait to see where they go and what happens to him. I liked that they held hands and it made him feel better. 🙂 It works for me too.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re very welcome. 🙂 I also like peachy creamy. In my head it is a lovely color and texture. If life could be like that it would be wonderful. 😀 Yes, the drivers face was great too. Made me think of those puzzles where you have to turn something just right for all the lines to make the image of something recognizable. Well done!

        Liked by 1 person

      1. Rehashing old material actually helped formulate some new ideas. I have a small list now. Every one in a while you need to watch aeons of tv or film and just let the brain rest a bit.

        Liked by 1 person

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