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He gulped, hardly hearing what she said to him.



“Tell Shrike I’ll have him up, soon… alright?” She said again, aware that the young man was distracted and she needed to repeat herself.



Chapter Twelve – Back on stage, with an increased wage



Laura Mae watched Shrike slap Bertram on the back, as he pulled on his cigar.

Then having exhaled blue grey smoke, he told the little man, “Look fella, you’re getting big and, you and Laura Mae have a real future ahead of you…”



Then realising what he’d said, Shrike slapped Bertram on the back a second time.

“Never meant the pun me ‘ol mate – but, I’m so pleased you managed to grace us with your presence.”



Bertram thought back to earlier that day and the sun shafting through the curtains, as Laura Mae had approached the bed.



Even through his arousal, he felt scared as she had disrobed, smiling wickedly.

He knew there and then, that he’d do whatever she asked of him.



And so here he was, approaching the stage, cloak flowing behind him. As he did his fellow performers stepped aside – he had a reputation and few would step in his shadow, let alone intimidate him.



Laura Mae watched her former protégée ease passed Antoine the sword swallower, then don his top hat, readying himself for the nights show.



This was when she chose to step forward, to try and take back a little of the act, for herself and, she stepped centre-stage, as the curtains rose.



Then as the stage-light’s illuminated her presence, she bowed low, giving a theatrical sweeping gesture with her right arm and impressing many men with the show thus far.



She was proud of the choice of outfit, but this night, Laura Mae was determined she would be heard and, she was…



As she stood, the audience hushed and, gave her the moment she’d sought and Bertram stood backstage and smiled gently – ever so pleased for Laura Mae.



“After yet another successful prediction, The Memory Man is back on stage…” she told them, turning to look from left to right, then back again; being sure not to leave out those sitting up in the gods: “All of you now know what I’ve known for years… my friends the real deal folks. So sit back and enjoy the show!”…



He was determined not to disappoint her and, he did not.



With an assurance of self that his previous shows had only hinted at, Bertram held and enthralled the audience, whilst entertaining and intimidating them, in e*ual measure, with the knowledge that he could see into each and every one of them, if he chose…



Finally Bertram had finished. He turned his back to the audience and, as he did so he told them, “Goodnight.”



Laura Mae was dumbstruck at his arrogance, then listened… as the silent theatre was suddenly filled with clapping, that went on and on… unlike she had ever heard from an audience before…



And for a long moment, she was in awe of Bertram, for what he had done…

The curtain fell, with him on the wrong side and, as the audience erupted into a minor riot, the manager sent two stagehands to bring him off…



“And, be careful with ‘im,” he instructed, “That fella’s gonna help me rake it in!”



Chapter Eleven – The Nurse Is Worse



Laura Mae sighed as she opened the door to her rooms, allowing the young man to enter.



Knowing her fearsome reputation, he stood before her nervously twirling his cap in his hands before him, as he finally found voice.



“Do pardon Missus, but Shrike wants to know how the memory man is?”



Only those working backscene called the theatre manager that --- after all, he did have a name. But somehow over the years, that had been forgotten and, Shrike did suit him – many thought.



Laura Mae managed not to smile at the boy’s innocent use of the sobriquet, but with distinct difficulty.



“He’s in bed,” she told the boy, whose bug-eyes illustrated that he had passed puberty, as he could draw her gaze from her impressive cleavage.



Again she did not smile; yet with even more difficulty than moments earlier.



‘They are so predictable,’ she reminded herself, pulling here robe together, that did conceal her formidable bosom, thereby causing the lad to continue to stare, as he watched her hands and, her fingers fastening the smallest button imaginable, given the unenviable job of holding everything in place.



“Shrike wants to know if he’ll be ready for tonight’s show Missus?” The lad asked, stammering and still twirling his cap. Peter Sanders, or ‘Sandy’, did not like feeling this gauche. But, Laura Mae intimidated him and aroused him, in e*ual measure.



And that smile…



He watched that smile, that crocodile smile – ‘so very dangerous looking,’ he mused and watched Laura Mae closely, as she looked across the small rooms, to where Bertram lay, still only half awake.



Sandy wanted to leave, as her fingers began to undo the button on her robe once more, to reveal her diaphanous pale yellow negligee, that illustrated she wore nothing else.



He gulped, hardly hearing what she said to him.



“Tell Shrike I’ll have him up, soon… alright?” She said again, aware that the young man was distracted and she needed to repeat herself.