Hypnotized

by Georgia Le Carre

  I noticed that she had not left her coat at reception.

  ‘Would you like me to take your coat?’ I enquired.

  ‘No,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I can turn the heat up if you are cold.’

  ‘No, no,’ she said quickly, a faint flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She gave me a lingering look.

  ‘All right. So how have you been?’ I asked politely.

  ‘Good. Very good.’

  ‘Any new memories?’

  ‘No, but I’d like to remember the day my mother died.’

  I frowned, but I nodded. I didn’t know what lay in store that day, but I could not protect her forever. Eventually, once I found out who the white owl was and why she was so terrified of it, I planned on letting her remember everything, the good and the bad.

  We went into the room next door and she made herself comfortable on the zero gravity chair while I fiddled about with the necessary buttons and switches.

  ‘Ready?’ I asked her.

  She nodded and I smelt her perfume.

  I took a seat beside her and went through the induction procedure. It was now much shorter as I had already created the pathways for her hypnotized state. When she was in a deep trance I instructed her to go to her special place again. I waited for a few seconds.

  ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ I said planning to take her to that day next. And for some unknown reason my gaze skimmed her body and found a hole in her tights. I stared at it. Her skin was very pale in the blue light. I found myself blinking. Then I did what I had never done before. I put my finger on her exposed skin. My breath came ragged and trembling. What the hell?

  I could not believe the potency and the force of my desire for her. I was powerless in its wake. The more I denied it, the mightier it became until this. Me touching her while she was lying on my chair totally helpless. And still my finger did not lift away. Instead it moved slightly. My finger was stroking her! Her skin was like the finest, smoothest silk. For heart-stopping seconds my finger remained as if unable, or more likely unwilling, to be parted from her skin. Then I snatched it away and closed my eyes. My hands came up to my head, my fingers raking through my hair. I stayed with my fingers clawed on my scalp while my brain went ape shit on me.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Everything I knew with total certainty about myself was in the garbage can. And then an ice-cold shudder ran through me. Very slowly I turned my head to the left. An unblinking red light was watching me, its regard unnervingly steady. I was recording this. All this was being documented. I felt so ashamed and confused. I felt like a pervert. I stood up and walked to the recording machine. I stood with my finger poised. All I had to do was to press erase. I should erase it. Here was enough evidence to brand me as a sexual molester. I would never work again if this came out. If I erased it, nothing of real importance would be lost. I had not yet begun her journey. I stood there another moment.

  And then I put my finger on the erase button.

  I pressed record and went to my chair. I remembered my priest in my church, his eyes rheumy and wandering around the congregation: ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’

  I sat down on the chair.

  ‘I want you to go to the day your mother died.’

  Her eyes moved under her lids.

  ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was soft and distressed.

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘I’m in a corridor. It is dimly lit. And it is cold. It is very cold here. I don’t want to go forward.’

  I stared at her, my own transgression forgotten.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Something terrible is going to happen. I’m scared,’ she whimpered. Her breathing had become irregular. Her lips were moving with anxious restlessness but no sounds emitted from them.

  ‘Olivia, listen to me. There is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can harm you. Pay attention only to my voice. Just take one more little step forward.’

  Deep furrows appeared in her forehead and her body started shaking. ‘Please don’t make me go,’ she begged.

  To my horror, tears slipped out of her eyes and rolled down her temples. I knew instantly that if I went any further she was in danger of being ripped out of her hypnosis.

  ‘It’s OK, Olivia,’ I soothed. My voice was calm and measured. ‘You don’t have to go forward. You can leave without feeling frightened or worried. You can leave feeling calm and in control.’ I paused to let the suggestion sink in and for calmness to descend upon her. ‘You are now going to take yourself away from that corridor and go back in time. Go back to one hour before. Can you do that?’

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going to bed. Ivana is in the room with me. She is putting me to bed. “Sleep well, beautiful child,” she says while stroking my cheek and hair. She smells nice. I like her. She takes good care of Mummy. “Nite, nite, Ivana,” I say and she switches off the light and goes out of the room. I sleep.’

  ‘Go back another hour. What are you doing now?’

  ‘I am in my mother’s room. I am tucked up in bed beside her and she is reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to me. Mummy smells of medicine and she has no more hair so she has to wear the scarf that Daddy bought for her in Paris. The one with all the horses. She is so thin I can feel her bones poking into me. And there are blue shadows beneath her eyes. She is pretending to be happy. For me. By her bedside is a tray of food. It is half-eaten. My father comes into the room. He looks ill at ease. He stands by the doorway. Something about his manner makes my mother hold me tighter. Her protruding bones bite into my flesh.

  ‘“How are you today, old fruit?” he asks awkwardly from the door. “Quite good,” my mother replies crisply. “That’s marvelous,” Daddy says. There is relief in his voice, but he also looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn’t want to be there. “Oh well. I suppose I’ll pop in later to say goodnight.” Mummy smiles sadly. “Of course.”

  ‘My father retreats and I turn toward my mother. “Mummy, are you dying soon?” My mother turns toward me, and smiles brightly. “Not tonight,” she says and stubs her thin finger onto my nose. “But you can ask me again tomorrow.”

  ‘“Should I ask you every day?” She says, “That’s a good idea.” And then Ivana comes into the room. It is my bedtime. “Goodnight, Mummy.”

  ‘“See you in the morning, darling,” she says kissing the top of my head. “I’ll put her to bed,” Ivana says. “Yes, do that,” Mummy says, but her voice is flat and unemotional. At the door I turn back and my mother is staring at me. There is a worried look on her face. When our eyes meet she smiles brightly. “Sweet dreams,” she says.’

  I looked at my watch. Her time was almost up. I instructed her to forget the first memory, and then brought her out. She opened her beautiful eyes and trained them on me.

  ‘Thank you for helping me recover that memory. It was very precious.’ She touched her temples. ‘Did I cry?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said standing up.

  ‘I don’t remember crying.’ Her eyes were silver.

  ‘Just stray emotions,’ I said and moved before the moment could stretch, but damn, I liked her. I liked her way too much.

  8

  Beryl

  To anyone who did not know Dr. Kane, he might appear aloof and uninterested in Lady O. It might even seem as if he was bored by her and couldn’t wait for her to leave, but I knew better. In all the time I’ve known Dr. Kane, and I’ve known him for nearly eighteen months now, I had never once seen him look at a woman the way he looked at Lady O. He looked at her with the kind of longing that lusting after something forbidden brings. For her part, she blushed every time he even looked in her direction. But more than a month later and they were still no closer.

  Enter Beryl the matchmaker.

  I reached into the side-drawer of m
y desk and pulled out my make-up bag. Rummaging through the contents I removed my compact and opened it. I had not slept well last night and I looked pale, lackluster and in need of a dash of color. I dug around again in my bag, unscrewed a lipstick, and applied a fresh layer of Berry Kiss.

  ‘That’s better,’ I told myself and chucked everything back into the bag. I zipped it up, shoved it back into the drawer and closed it with a firm push. Then I clasped my hands on the surface of my desk and glanced again at the clock. The session should be over any time now.

  I looked over to the tray already loaded with the tea service and a plate of prettily arranged slices of lemon cake. Dr. Kane, I knew was partial to cake. My eyes strayed to the red light on my console that indicated the soundproof room was in use. As I watched it went off. Lady O’s session was over and they were back in his office.

  Right. No more dithering.

  I pulled myself upright, squared my shoulders and walked over to Dr. Kane’s door. I knocked on it decisively and waited. When I heard his voice, I turned the door handle and breezed in with a wide smile. Both of them, but especially Dr. Kane, looked up at me questioningly.

  ‘My sister made a lemon cake yesterday. Would you like a slice with some tea?’ I offered brightly.

  Dr. Kane stared at me with disbelief. He knew exactly what I was up to.

  Unable to hold his direct gaze I swiveled around to Lady O. ‘You have to try a slice. I promise you, you’ll never taste anything more delicious,’ I babbled, the words tumbling over each other. To be honest I was unnerved by the look on my employer’s face. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Lady O smiled, genuinely pleased. ‘That would be lovely...if it’s no trouble,’ she paused and turned towards Dr. Kane, ‘and if it’s all right with Dr. Kane, of course.’

  ‘Oh, Dr. Kane loves cake,’ I said quickly. ‘And it’s no trouble. Everything’s ready. I’ll just go and get it.’ Avoiding his eyes I turned on my heel and exited the office.

  I switched on the kettle, poured the boiling water into the teapot and placing it on the waiting tray, carried it into Dr. Kane’s office. Without asking them where they wanted the tray I laid it on the coffee table in front of the settee.

  I turned around and addressed Lady O. ‘I’m a bit late for a hair appointment so you won’t mind pouring, will you Lady Olivia?’

  ‘Of course not. Thank you, Beryl,’ she replied in that polite, totally gorgeous accent of hers.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ I called gaily to no one, and quickly made my escape.

  Olivia

  You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that Beryl left behind. For a few uncomfortable seconds neither of us moved. Then I stood. The suddenness of my action made his gaze skid involuntarily down my body and come to rest on the curve of my hips.

  ‘How nice of Beryl,’ I commented, and moved towards the couch.

  ‘Yes, very nice,’ he agreed, dryly. Poor Beryl. She was going to get an earful tomorrow.

  I sat with my knees drawn close together in front of the tray and began to pour the tea. He did not immediately join me, but watched from behind his desk. My movements felt clumsy and jerky and I was very relieved when I did not spill anything. I placed the teapot back on the tray and looked up at him.

  ‘Milk?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said and standing up, strolled over to the couch. He had a really sexy walk. More of a prowl than a walk. I dragged my eyes away from him and he lowered his hard male body next to me and leaned back with his legs spread wide. His trouser clad knee was inches away from my leg. Scent: warm man. How extraordinary, I wanted to curl into it. Every brain cell in my head lit up with the knowledge. His nearness in a social context made me feel jittery and out of sorts, like one of those cartoon animals that gets electrocuted and their eyes pop and all their fur stands on end.

  ‘Sugar?’ My voice was squeaky with nervousness.

  ‘Two. Thank you.’

  I dropped the cubes into his cup and passed it to him. I was mortified to hear the cup rattling on the saucer. My gaze collided with his, and good gracious, up this close, his eyes were the stuff poets write about, molten gold and piercingly intense. He took the offered tea. My gaze dropped to the discreet watch peeking out of his shirt cuff, and his hand; big, the fingers elegant, and the nails cut square. Without taking a sip he put the cup and saucer back on the table.

  From the corner of my eyes I could see him rubbing the side of his face reflectively. I leaned forward, my demeanor stiff and awkward, and picking up the plate of cake held it out to him.

  He took a slice and bit into it.

  I stared. And gulped. Wow! I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ear. All kinds of crazy thoughts were running through my head. I imagined his mouth on the tips of my breast, along the inside of my thighs, between my thighs where I had begun to throb. My reaction to this man was extraordinarily sexual and confusing. I wondered what was beneath all those clothes. I wanted to feel him with my tongue. I frowned. I couldn’t understand where these bold and inappropriate thoughts were coming from. Were they coming from behind the veil? Was I a very sexual being?

  ‘Are you all right?’ He was staring at me. A single frown line furrowed his forehead.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ I choked, horribly embarrassed. I turned away from him, hastily picked up a slice of cake, and took a bite out of it. It tasted of nothing in my mouth. It could have been sawdust I was chewing. I tried desperately to find something to talk about, but there was not a single thing in my head I could find to say. I swallowed the tasteless lump and reached for my cup. Taking a sip I dared a sideways glance at him.

  ‘This cake is absolutely delicious,’ I said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed quietly, popping the rest of his cake into his mouth.

  I put the cup down and licked my lower lip. ‘Do you like being a hypnotherapist?’

  The frown was back. ‘It is what I do at the moment,’ he replied.

  I was both curious and consumed by an intense curiosity about him. ‘So you don’t like it?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s a temporary fix.’ His voice discouraged any further questioning.

  I smoothed down the wrinkles in my skirt as if doing so could smoothen out my thoughts. When I looked up he was staring at my hands.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘You have such delicate little hands. I bet all the boys fall over themselves to protect you,’ he said softly.

  ‘I don’t remember any boys wanting to protect me,’ I said, nervously rolling the buttery orbs on the two-string pearl necklace around my throat between my fingers.

  His eyes flashed. He moved forward suddenly and rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘To be honest, I’m not really a tea person. If you don’t mind I’ll have a whiskey.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He stood and went to his desk. I watched him pour himself a generous measure of whiskey, and while still behind the desk, take a long mouthful. He made his way back to the couch more warily and sat down closer to the arm of the couch, significantly further away from me.

  I leaned back and turned my head in his direction. He was looking into his drink and there was only one word to describe his eyelashes—lush. Seen from that angle they undid all his efforts to be taciturn, armored and completely impenetrable. He was like a peeled snail, achingly vulnerable. It made me want to stroke the tanned skin stretched across his cheekbone. He looked up suddenly. The silence stretched, holding within its body more than words we could have said. The air seemed thick with something. Our bodies were talking to each other.

  But we both knew. Our politeness and evasion of the unspoken was chilling because it appeared to be set in concrete. As if it was the proper order of things that we were two people who could never be anything but strangers, unable even to carry a normal conversation.

  A sense of urgency overtook me. Soon, even this moment would be gone, squandered away. It was already nearly over. I turned toward him, determined not to let it end this way
.

  ‘My sister told me a joke today,’ I said.

  His eyebrows rose.

  ‘A filthy one.’

  One side of his lips curved upward, sensual and unbelievably inviting.

  ‘Want to hear it?’ I asked with a cheeky look.

  That beautiful smile widened. ‘Of course.’

  ‘OK. A German Shepherd and a terrier meet at the vet. The terrier looks so sad that the German Shepherd asks it why it is there. The terrier says, “I’m here because last night after my mistress came out of the bath she bent down to towel dry her feet, and her bum cheeks looked so smooth and inviting I jumped up and bit one of them.” The German Shepherd shakes his head in surprise; “By golly, almost the same thing happened to me. My mistress bent down after her bath, but in my case I jumped up on her back and gave her one.” The terrier is shocked. “Oh my God,” he says. “So you’re here to be put down too.”

  Exactly as my sister had done I curled my fingers in towards my palms so they looked like paws, and looked at them while I delivered the punch line. ‘The German Shepherd says, “Oh no, I’m just here to have my nails done.”’

  I turned to look at him and he was laughing. Really laughing. Body relaxed. Mouth open. Beautiful straight teeth on show. Warmth and joy flowed out of him. I laughed too. And suddenly I knew it could be so different with us. So different.

  Our eyes touched and locked. He stopped laughing. For a few seconds we stared at each other, a current of super-charged energy sizzling through us. His eyes widened slightly. Then he stood, his movement abrupt and final.

  ‘It’s getting late. I’ll show you out.’

  9

  Olivia

  Two days later a woman called.

  ‘Vivi,’ she gushed down the line. ‘It’s me, Cookie.’

  It turned out Cookie was Lady Cressida Drummond-Willoughby. We went to school together and she was ‘dying’ to meet up. Dr. Greenhalgh had told me to mix with as many people from my past as possible. ‘You never know who might trigger a memory,’ she said.

  So I told Cookie, of course, I’d like to meet up, but I warned her that in all probability I wouldn’t be able to recognize her and she’d have to come up to me.