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A shard of the broken pot cut straight across Mickey Dee’s right cheek and another pierced a friend’s eye, just moments before Bertram Reeves faded into merciful unconsciousness…



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Chapter Two – Life Changes, for Bertram



A day passed and, The Memory Man and Laurie Mae had missed a performance – and, she missed the money, as well as the adulation.



She mopped at the little man’s forehead, watching him intently.



‘Bertram had been a real find,’ she mused; easily manipulated, he quickly became the face of the act…



Soon Laura Mae had become legitimate, as it were and, the lights of the stage had become a friend to her.



Thoughtfully, she reached into the cabinet by the bed and reached for the small brown bottle of smelling salts.



A cough and a sputter followed…



Finally Bertram opened his eyes, quickly realizing that the right lens to his glasses was cracked and, he was in the last place he expected to be; ‘not ever!’



Leaning over him in an apricot peignoir, Laura Mae appeared the vision of concern, as she sat next to him on the bed, patting his forehead with a folded damp flannel and cooed, “Oh good, you’re awake. I did tell Mickey Dee for what he did. But I gotta ask sweetie, what did you do to get to him like that?”



“Me?” Bertram screeched, “What did I do?”



“Well, the boys are normally so peaceable,” she added, continuing to pat his forehead, “I just don’t know what got into them!”



“But, that’s an aside. It’s time for the show in two hours an. Do you need help in getting dressed?” She quizzed.



Bertram’s head throbbed with pain, yet through it he realized with surprise, beneath the thick quilt and sheets, he was naked!



Blushing, Bertram stated the obvious, “I’m naked.”

Then he asked, “Who undressed me?”



“I did silly!” Laura Mae told him with a laugh, as she stood and walked to the white enamel sink and wall mirror at the end of her room, behind a three-sided screen, to the left of the door…



Mortified by this news, Bertram still found every movement of Lara Mae’s body inside the ankle length peignoir quite enthralling.



His mouth felt dry…



As Bertram watched her move behind the screen, each hinged panel painted with a different oriental design, Laura Mae told him with a musical laugh to her voice, “After all, I didn’t want to get blood on the sheets!”

Bertram thought that reasonable, of course. But, his dry mouth became desert-like, as he watched Laura Mae drape her only item of clothing over the op of the screen.



He made a croaking sound…



And Laura Mae turned her head quickly to ask, “Are you alright?”



She sounded concerned. Yet, her every action had been and was, quite calculated.



Although he felt rotten, Bertram would be her memory man tonight, of that she was sure…



“Dry throat,” he explained, watching Laura Mae emerge from behind the screen…

Mr. Memory Man



Chapter One - An Idea to sell



The boardwalks of the city bustled, as the short portly gentleman eased his way through the crowded streets, his dark brown eyes almost hidden by the thick round glasses he wore.



Dressed all in grey, from the top of his bowler to the bottom of his trousers turn-ups, the only real colour to the fellow’s ensemble was the white of his shirt and spats, that half covered his brown brogues: a sensible shoe for a sensible man.



Yet, all was not quite as it seemed; come the night, the man; the non-descript little man, became someone quite different indeed.



At eight prompt, he would take to the stage of the local vaudeville, throw his cape aside, {the expensive red-lined one that took weeks to pay off} and, with a suitably theatrical wave of his right arm and then, a bow, he would introduce his beautiful assistant, Laurie Mae.



And the blonde would smile widely, arms out, legs crossed, allowing the men in the audience to appreciate her charms, while some of the women-folk would tut away at such scandalous attire to those sitting near – and, Laurie Mae did wear little. But the choice of costume was hers and hers alone: after all, she did get noticed.



In fact, much of the showmanship to their Mister Memory act was down to her, but she needed a front-man; especially if she wanted them to be a real success.



Bertram Reeves appreciated all that she did for him; ‘well, for the act,’ he conceded, clutching the bunch of posies in both hands and, held to his belly.



The little man was sweating as he hurried down the sidewalk, towards a darker part of the city from where he lived. Yet, he’d heard Laurie Mae justify living their many times, by reminding him how cheap it was.



So, she chose to live in the old red-fronted tenements, that should have been pulled down in the last city-clearance, in his opinion; and amongst people he was wary of.



But, Bertam had an idea for the act, that he believed would simplify the system laurie Mae employed, as he stood on the stage, wearing his blindfold, while Laurie Mae traversed the theatres aisles, to find a gullible punter and, used code words to signal what she wanted to say to him



He approached the steps leading up to the wide-porch before the front door, where three youths stood, each dressed in baggy grey slacks with a high turn-up, worn with braces over white collarless shirts; and sporting black, highly polished shoes.



Two of the youth stood either side of the door, with their backs against a low wall, while the third sat on the top step, idly pairing his nails, with the tip of his stiletto blade.

At the sound of Bertram’s footsteps prompted the fellow with the knife to look up and smile devilishly at the sweating man, carrying a bunch of posies.



“Lookee ‘ere,” he called back to his friends, “Looks like the blonde on fours got another customer!”



And, he laughed, at a joke of his own making: that Bertram did not like.



The little man bristled with anger and, he finally exploded, his cheeks flushed…



“Miss Laura Mae is not like that!” he barked, the loudness of his voice surprising even himself.



These young men intimidated Bertram Reeves greatly; yet they had impugned the honour of the woman he…



With knuckles white, his fists now tight around the bunch of posies, Bertram it out, “She’s a star of the stage…”



In response, Mickey Dee twirled the blade twice, before closing the knife and, popping it into the top pocket of his white to grey shirt.



Taking a last drag on the Lucky Strike, he flicked the lit butt at Bertram, not really intending for it to land on the tip of his nose. But, it had.



The bunch of posies fell, as the little fellow brought up his fists.



Then petals hit the pavement, as Mickey Dee’s nose became the sole focus of Bertram’s knuckles. And, blood flowed.



Surprise showed on Mickey Dee’s face and he stood, drawing back his own right fist, a snarl of righteous anger filling his gut: ‘Who’d have thought he’d had the temerity!’



One blow followed another, then feet shod in black leather kicked at the little man, who had fallen and lay on his ride side, knees drawn up towards his belly.



And, as the six feet kicked at Bertram Reeves, a pot plant fell, in its red pot, from a window up above: ‘You leave ‘im alone. ‘ees ‘armless…’ Laurie was angry and Bertram’s last present had been at hand.



Yet her aim was not true and, it was the giver of the gift who received it.



A shard of the broken pot cut straight across Mickey Dee’s right cheek and another pierced a friend’s eye, just moments before Bertram Reeves faded into merciful unconsciousness…



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