That evening they all went to the miner’s social and working men’s club, not that many of them worked anymore. The club was the central hub of village life, it was small and grubby and had seen better days. It was originally painted white on the outside with a pent roof which leaked, the white was still thick with the black grime of the colliery despite it not being worked for years. There had been moves to pull it down and build a new one, a proper one with a gym, a pool, and landscaped gardens, all paid for by Gwen, but of course without anyone knowing about it. But the committee was having none of it, the club was the club, and they didn’t like change. They were having the monthly local talent competition. Tonight, they had some singers, a couple of comedians, an impressionist, and a magician. Llewellyn saw many of his old friends and workmates there, men from the pits, from the so-called good old days.
“Hello Llewellyn,” an older man said, “remember me?”
“Hello Archie, how’re tricks with you and the family?”
“Not bad at all, none of us has jobs mind you, but we all get a pension, index-linked and equivalent to our old pay packet, from the Valleys Miners Welfare Fund. So, we can’t complain at all. It seems it was a fund we all paid into when we were working, but we don’t remember doing it at all. The funny thing is, no one knows where the money comes from. There’s no charity or organisation by that name that we can find, but the money keeps coming, so we don’t complain.”
“Well, that’s excellent, but why do you all want to know anyway?”
“Well, just curiosity really. Nye Pryce, the old union rep wants to know, I expect he wants to demand more money!” Archie laughed, “come on, I’ll buy you a pint for old times’ sake.”
“No, no, really, I’ll get you one, I’m doing well for myself now I am working for the ministry, I’ll get them in. He turned to Gwen, “what do you want Gwen?”
“I’ll have a port and lemon please, juice for the boys and some cheese and onion crisps, ooh, and some nuts, salted cashews if they’ve got them.”
Leaving Archie with Gwen and the boys, Llewellyn went off to the bar, shaking hands with several others on the way and got the drinks in, completely forgetting about the snacks.
“Well boys,” said Archie, “you any good at anything? These evenings are normally rubbish, the singers can’t sing, the comedians aren’t funny, the impressionists can’t impersonate, and the magicians can’t do magic,” he said with a smile and a wink, "we need some new blood in here.”
“Well,” said Tom, “I’ll have to ask dad first, but we know a little bit of conjuring, so maybe me and me brother could have a little go.”
“Go on then, show me a quick trick now.”
“Okay,” said Tom a little sheepishly, followed by the standard magicians saying of, “watch this, nothing up my sleeves,” he pretended to push up his sleeves, which, as he was wearing a tee-shirt, was just for show.
Tom held out his hands and turned them over both ways so Archie could see they were empty. Tom then cupped his hands together to form a hollow ball and started shaking them up and down. As he did you heard a small tinkle of metal, then increasingly, louder, and louder. Tom opened his hands, and they were full of shiny new pennies which he poured onto the table. Jon then scooped them up into his hands and started shaking, a few shakes later he opened his hands, nothing, all the money had disappeared.
“What!” exclaimed Archie, “how’d you boys do that? It’s not possible.”
“Of course it is, you just saw us do it,” Jon said laughing.
“Well, we’ll have you two up on stage later for sure, with or without your dad’s permission.”
Llewellyn returned with a tray of drinks, "Pint for you Archie, port and lemon, two juices and a pint for me.”
“Where’s the crisps and nuts?” Gwen asked.
Llewellyn gave her a look, “I’ve only got one pair of hands, I’ll get them on the next round.
“We need your two boys up on stage tonight to do a bit of magic. Just showed me a trick, they’re blooming good you know.”
Llewellyn looked crossly at the two boys, "What did I tell you? No showing off. No tricks.”
“Oh, it was only a bit of harmless fun, they just made some coins appear out of nowhere then disappear again,” Archie said in their defence.
“Alright, but keep it down if you know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry, we will,” the boys said.
Half an hour later, they were up on the small stage, "Hi everyone,” said Jon, “we’re here to do a bit of magic for you. We didn’t know we were doing this until a few minutes ago, so we haven’t rehearsed or nothing. So please be patient with us if it all goes wrong.”
“First,” he continued, “I am going to make my little brother float into the air, can I have a chair please.”
Someone near the stage handed Jon a chair. He stood on the chair, placed his hand on the top of Tom’s head and as he raised his hand, Tom floated up. As he lowered his hand Tom descended. Tom then stood behind the chair and whisked it away from under Jon, who stayed motionless one chairs height above the stage. Tom replaced the chair and Jon jumped down. The crowd went wild, clapping and cheering.
“It’s a stitch-up, they’ve got wires or something!” someone shouted from the back. It was Bunter’s dad; he was not only a bully like his son but also a drunk.
“Would you like to come up and help us please sir?” said Tom. Bunter’s dad had no choice as Tom was mind-bending him to do so. He climbed up onto the stage with the boys swaying a little as he did.
“Right,” said Tom, “using the power of hypnosis, I’m going to turn you into a chicken.”
“Yeah, like to see you try.” Bunter’s dad said with a look of malice in his eyes as if to say, “make a fool out of me and I’ll get you two little brats!” Little did he know, if Tom wanted to, he could have changed him into a real chicken, but here he was just going to pretend to hypnotise him.
Everyone laughed at the idea.
“Look into my eyes, not around the eyes but deep into my eyes,” Tom said imitating a hypnotist he’s seen on the television, “you are now a chicken,” and he clicked his fingers.
Bunters dad immediately started clucking, waving his elbows like a chicken, and scrapping the floor with one foot. He then proceeded off the stage and walked all around the hall clucking and pecking as he did.
“Rubbish.” Someone shouted, “you just asked him to play along. Bet you can’t hypnotise me’” another ex-miner, the worse for drink shouted looking for approval from his drunk mates.
“Come on up, and my brother here will demonstrate,” Tom shouted back.
He pushed his way to the front and up onto the stage.
“I hope you’re all filming this on your phones for when he sobers up,” Jon shouted.
Tom clicked his fingers in front of the man’s face, his breath stank of beer and cigarette smoke. Jon looked hard into his bloodshot eyes, and stealing Tom’s words he said, “Look into my eyes, not around the eyes but deep into my eyes, you are a ballerina.”
The half-drunk man leapt from the stage and pirouetted all around the room, leaping into the air with some quite skilful moves courtesy of a little help from the boys, and then leapt magnificently back up onto the stage. They then released both men, thanked them, and sent them back to their mates.
“Told you they were fake, the man shouted back as he walked back swaggering cockily. However, once back with his mates and viewing the footage on their mobile phones, his face turned red.
“You little scumbags, you’ve made me look a right idiot. I’ll get you for this,” he rushed the stage but was wrestled back by a couple of bouncers and thrown out of the club, "I’ll see you two outside,” he shouted back at them.
“Right, that’s enough boys. Very funny act but look at the trouble you’ve caused. Come on ma, let’s go home.”
“But da, we can’t go home yet, them two blokes will be waiting for us,” said Tom.
“Tom, think about what you’re saying,” Llewellyn whispered, “two drunks against three wizards, you could take them on by yourself if you thought about it.”
They went to exit the club. The door attendant wished them goodnight and told them to be careful. So, they left, wands tucked up inside their sleeves, just in case.
The two men were waiting just around the corner. They went to run at the family as soon as they were outside and fell flat on their faces. Somehow, their shoelaces had become tied together. They bent down and untied them, when they stood up, both their trousers fell to their ankles. By the time they had sorted themselves out, the Jones’ were home.
They ran after them and were soon outside the house. One had a brick in his hand which he hurled at the window. The brick hit the invisible protective spell, bounced back, hit him on the head, and knocked him out cold. The second man picked up the brick, staggered around a bit before trying to launch it in the same direction. I went straight up in the air and straight down again, ‘donk’ on his head as well. This was all watched by two constables in their patrol car who always parked up near the club on a Friday and Saturday night, just in case of trouble. They were rarely disappointed.
“Right, you two,” one of them said to the unconscious pair, “you’re nicked!” and then added, “again.”
They didn’t hear, but it seems their drunken behaviour had not gone unnoticed by the local constabulary on more than one occasion.
No sooner had they arrived home when a small dog, a cockerel and a sparrow hawk appeared in the front room.
Before any greetings were exchanged, Howel spoke, "The Master is returning to Trymyll, we must head back immediately.”
Llewellyn looked quizzical, "How would you know that? You’ve been up in the mountains for most of the week.”
“No time for the whole story, but we have been to the Taihang Mountains, the birthplace of the Golden Dragons. We met a wizard, Songhai Chen, he told us that the Master is returning to Trymyll.”
“What were you doing there?” asked Tom. But before he had an answer......
“Who?” asked Llewellyn for clarity.
“His name is Songhai Chen,” Howel repeated
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of him. I must alert Flintock, and we must return to Trymyll at daybreak.”
There was a small pop and Flintock appeared in the room.
“How did you know you were needed? I was just going to try and contact you.”
“If I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me,” Llewellyn said.
“Well, a small Chinese boy appeared in my village and told me the Master was coming back and that we must get back to Trymyll.”
“That’s why I was going to call you back.”
“You knew? Who told you?”
“Same guy, Songhai Chen. He sent a message with the dragons.”
“Do we know who he is?”
“I don’t, but I sure hope he’s on our side,” Llewellyn said, a hint of trepidation in his voice, “enough of this, right ma, we need to get back first thing tomorrow, Sorry, but it might not be safe for you, we’ll come back in a few weeks and collect you when it’s safe.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I’m coming with you and no arguments,” Gwen retorted, “if this Master is as dangerous as you say, you’ll need all the help you can get. Anyway, I need to look after my two boys and you two great lumps.”
“But mum, you’re a.......,” Tom was trying to choose his words carefully so as not to appear rude, "well, your non-magical, it would be dangerous.”
“Then I won’t be a threat to the Master bloke, and I can look after you lot instead.”
Llewellyn knew he would never win this argument with Gwen, so quietly acquiesced.
Songhai Chen then appeared in the room and said one sentence...
“Gwendoline Jones need not fear for her safety, for it is she who will save you all.”
And without further explanation, Songhai Chen then vanished.