Two of a Mind

by S M Stuart

  Oh no, they can’t expect me to wander around in this flimsy disposable gown!

  I pressed the call button and saw one of the nurses look towards my room and then at the central monitors. She briefly raised her hand but carried on with whatever she was doing. I checked to make sure the gown was covering all it should then marched out to the staff station.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “When will my parents be here to take me home?”

  The woman’s response was cross and impatient. “Your parents will be here later this morning when visiting hours start at ten-thirty. But we don’t have any discharge papers for you today so they’ll have to leave for the lunch period and any further visits will be from two-thirty to five and seven to nine. Now back to bed, like a good girl.”

  My mouth fell open and I stepped back as though I’d been slapped.

  What does she mean no discharge papers? Who’s she calling a good girl?

  Because I had no choice I returned to my room but I’d be damned if I was getting back into bed. I sat on the solitary chair, fuming at the indignity of being treated like a child. Later I discovered that Nurse Marion took a dim view of anybody who was, in her words, “one of those selfish individuals who take their own lives without any consideration for others”. I think she enjoyed telling me I couldn’t go home – miserable cow!

  Ten-thirty finally arrived and visitors brought their flowers, fruit and chocolates to their relatives and friends. As they came through the arched doorway, each visitor was sprayed with the clinical dry disinfectant used to keep the bugs out of hospitals. I stood by my door anxiously waiting for sight of Mum and Dad. Maybe Seth would come again.

  A few minutes later Dad appeared at the ward entrance. He was followed, not by Mum, but by Ms Thorogood! What was she doing here? I thought she’d be away making the most of the long summer break from the Academy. I would’ve run up to Dad for a hug if I hadn’t been wearing that stupid hospital gown. And Ms Thorogood being there was a bit discouraging too.

  “Hello Dez,” she said brightly as they reached my room.

  “Hello Ms Thorogood,” I answered, a little warily.

  “Morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes thanks. Dad. Best night in a while.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “Ms Thorogood has come in to talk to you about the PT problem, Dez.”

  “Oh.” Do I take it the whole world knows?

  As if reading my mind – good trick under the circumstances! – Ms Thorogood said, “Don’t worry Dez. It’s not public knowledge. Your father contacted me this morning because of my teaching sessions. He thought I might’ve come across this phenomenon before.”

  “Have you?”

  “Actually, no. But I have a friend who has and he’s had some success in helping those people come to terms with it.”

  “Come to terms with it? That’s it? There’s no cure? No switch or drug or anything that can turn it on?” I was beginning to pace around, getting agitated. Surely after having perfected the cancer and HIV vaccines the medical profession could do something for a dodgy PT connection? “You’re telling me I’m an Empty freak and I’ve just got to get used to it?”

  Dad raised his hands. “Calm down, Dez. We have to get to grips with this so that we can see a way through.”

  “What do you mean ‘we’? You haven’t got a problem with your PT, have you? Claude lets you discuss everything about him. He’s not gone into hiding has he?”

  The nurses at the staff station were beginning to take notice and one started heading towards my room. Dad waved and shook his head, smiling as if to reassure them that it was all okay in Room 4. But it wasn’t. I’d thought that now this was out in the open it could be fixed – not just accepted as the way things were going to be forever.

  “Dez, please let me finish,” said Ms Thorogood. “We all have your best interests at heart. We’re just talking about worst-case scenario – you have to be prepared in case your particular PT connection never happens. It’s rare but it’s not the end of the world. You’ll still be a fully functioning human being.”

  “How can I be fully functioning if half my brain doesn’t work?”

  She carried on without responding to the exaggeration. “My friend is a respected psychotherapist and he specialises in the use of hypnotherapy. He really can help you, Dez, if you’re prepared to give it a try.”

  Ms Thorogood and my weary father looked at me expectantly.

  “Swinging a watch and making me cluck like a chicken isn’t going to find my PT connection is it?”

  “Dez, you are being rude now.” Dad rarely lost his temper with me. I didn’t often give him cause but I was too worked up to hear the warning tone of his voice.

  “Come on Dad. You’ve said yourself they’re a load of con artists. In it for the fame and fortune of Saturday night interactive holo-viewing!”

  Ms Thorogood looked at me with a mixture of understanding and frustration. “I assure you that Alvin is not a charlatan. He dislikes the entertainment hypnotists too. Hypnotherapy’s a trusted and accepted science. It helps you to tap into the strength from your subconscious.”

  Even now I don’t know why, but at that point I lost it. Big time!

  “Don’t you think I’VE GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS WITHOUT SOMEONE ELSE MESSING IN MY HEAD!”

  As my yelling escalated, I slapped my hands with increasing ferocity against the sides of my head. I didn’t appreciate the irony – the problem was that I really did want someone else in there. The next thing I knew I was being held down by two orderlies while ‘Nasty Nurse Marion’ sprayed something up my nose.

  “Is that really necessary?” I heard Dad ask through my rage.

  “It’s the quickest way for this sedative to be absorbed,” she explained curtly.

  Bet she’s enjoying this!

  I thrashed about a moment longer until the drug took effect then I lay still, staring at the white ceiling, breathing heavily and letting silent tears dribble into my ears.

  I just want to go home.

  “I’ll see your friend,” I whispered, knowing this was the only way to get there.

  Ms Thorogood gently patted my shoulder and smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Dez. Take care.”

  As she left Dad came up to the bedside. His face was drawn, his eyes red-rimmed and he looked like he’d aged ten years in two days.

  “Dez, sweetheart, you must try to calm down. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

  “Why didn’t Mum come?”

  “She thought it might be too much for you to have all of us visiting together. She’s finding it hard to deal with but …”

  “Typical! How hard does she think it is for me? But, it’s all about her as usual.” Even though my lips stung and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool I could still make cutting comments.

  “Desirée. That is enough. I will not listen to you talking about your mother in that tone. If you had let me finish I was about to say that she is intending to come in later.”

  Desirée – that showed I’d really gone too far this time. Would it never stop – this vicious cycle of hurting the ones I loved and hating myself for doing it?

  Nurse Marion returned, hovering by the door with another dose of dopey juice. Dad took the hint. He leaned over to kiss my forehead and quietly told me that both he and Mum loved me more than I thought.

  The hot, guilty tears continued to flow and as I drifted into a drugged sleep I mourned the loss of my ordinary life. I still wanted to be the over-indulged only child who was the apple of her Daddy’s eye. But how long would his patience last if I continued to behave like a spoilt brat?

  I’ve let you down again, haven’t I?

  CHAPTER 9

  London: May 2072

  “The business world was shocked today by the untimely death of Jacob Trevalyn. Early indications are that he suffered a massive heart attack during yesterday evening whilst working alone at the Trevalyn Corporation Head Office.
”

  “Yada, yada, yada.” Sebastian Trevalyn swiped his hand over the screen to close the news programme. “Stupid idiot!” He was referring to his brother’s self-testing of the enhancement drug he’d devised.

  Jacob’s life-long heart condition had been a family secret and one which their father, Benjamin, was particularly disappointed about. The Trevalyns were infallible as far as Benjamin was concerned and his sons had been nurtured, tutored and moulded into the same self-belief. Unfortunately for Jacob, Mother Nature believed otherwise.

  Sebastian had great plans for the Trevalyn Corporation and once the old man was gone he’d have free rein to put them in place – at least until young Victor came of age. He’d have to ensure his nephew would follow the path that ‘Uncle Sebastian’ laid out for him.

  Wiltshire: August 2072

  Matt held his grandmother’s hand and felt the arthritic bones beneath the paper dry skin. He wanted to hold on tightly but was afraid that it would bring more pain so he gently stroked the back of that beloved hand hoping that she could still sense his presence and the deep love he felt for her.

  “Look Dad.” Eddie waved a card he’d plucked from Julia’s dresser. “She got her telegram from Buck House just like she said she would. It’s even got a personal message from Wills.”

  Matt chuckled at his son’s apparent disrespect. Over the years Baroness Julia Simpson had developed a strong relationship with the royals and, when talking to her family about him, she occasionally lapsed into using the King’s pet name.

  “Oh, let me see.” Jade grabbed her twin-brother’s arm to look at the message.

  “Shush, you two,” their mother said. “You’ll disturb Granny Julia.”

  “It’s alright, Laura. Gran will enjoy their chatter.” Matt smiled at his wife and gestured for her to sit by him.

  “Charles is still available,” Julia whispered.

  “Gran?” Matt started at the unexpected comment. Julia had been sleeping so soundly that he’d thought she was slipping away already.

  “William’s grandson – Charles. Jade could do worse.” Julia’s eyes, though pale and watery held a brief flash of mischief.

  The family laughed and gathered around the bed, each of them keen to share the precious little time that Julia had left. Soon the old lady began to tire. Eddie and Jade kissed their great-grandmother and promised to fulfil her wishes that they would follow their dreams. They held tightly to each other’s hand as they slipped out of the room. Laura leaned back in her chair to give Matt and Julia the privacy to say their goodbye, but she kept her hand on her husband’s back to reassure him he would not be alone.

  “I’m sorry Matt, I couldn’t finish it.”

  “What are you talking about Gran?”

  “There’s a file in my safe. It’s not complete yet. You’ll have to carry on. It’s been so hard to find anything.” Julia’s breathing became laboured and she frowned with the effort of continuing. “Keep looking, Matthew. Promise you’ll keep looking.”

  Matt had no idea what Julia wanted him to look for but he would have promised her the moon if it helped. “Of course I will,” he said, tears now spilling onto his pristine shirt.

  Julia smiled then shuddered as her final breath released her troubled spirit at last.

  London: October 2072

  “I can’t see what she was looking for.” Matt threw the file on to the table in disgust. The printed news cuttings spilled out. “She was obsessed with the damned Trevalyn family. It’s all stuff about them and their business dealings. But I can’t see anything untoward.”

  Jade gave her father a comforting hug. “Don’t fret, Dad. Granny hadn’t managed to solve it in all those years so it’s bound to take time for us to work it out. Let me see.”

  Her father was right, Jade couldn’t see what Granny Julia had been searching for either. All the information in the file was from the public domain so it was hardly the stuff of thriller novels but she knew that her great-grandmother wouldn’t have wasted her time on something unless she felt it was absolutely necessary.

  “Did Granny Julia leave any other documents?” Jade asked.

  “Tons,” sighed Matt, gesturing towards several old fashioned trunks in the corner of his grandmother’s office. “Knock yourself out.” He plucked his jacket from the coat stand then tossed a set of keys towards Jade. “I’ve got a meeting with Gran’s solicitor. Will you be home later?”

  She deftly caught the keys mid-air. “Yes, I’ll be in for supper,” she answered, turning towards the trunks with the eagerness of a child about to open her birthday presents. Little did she realise the ultimate cost of that curiosity.

  CHAPTER 10

  Ellingham Clinic: 30 July 2110

  Okay. New day, fresh start. Best behaviour!

  My head was still fuzzy. Having been sedated most of the previous day, I wasn’t sure whether Mum had actually been to see me. Dreams and reality merged in my memory.

  I was now propped up in the hospital bed, still being monitored by the sensor screen – presumably in case they felt I needed another dose of the dopey juice – and trying to put on a happy face for my visitors. It wasn’t easy.

  “Dez, this is Alvin Grey, the friend that I was talking to you about yesterday. Alvin, this is Dez Hanson.” Ms Thorogood introduced us to each other and the handsome black guy held out his hand to me.

  “Pleased to meet you Dez – may I call you Dez?” he said.

  “Yes, that’s fine. Nice to meet you, too,” I said, although the circumstances weren’t particularly nice. And I would’ve liked at least to have been dressed in proper clothes to meet such a good-looking bloke, with his sexy retro-specs and stylish clothes. He looked a bit like that actor from way back, the one I drooled over when the classics were being run at the antiquated I-Max, Denzel Washington, yeah, that was him – yum! Grey’s handshake was firm, dry and pleasantly cool and his light, spicy cologne lingered as he withdrew to stand at the end of the bed.

  Careful, Dez. Do you really want him delving into your darkest secrets?

  My flirty thoughts must have given me a flush as Dad commented that I was looking less peaky this morning! I quickly reached for my water and hid behind the cup until I felt more composed.

  “Don’t worry, Dez. It’s normal to feel nervous about hypnotherapy if you haven’t experienced it before,” said Alvin. “I’ll explain the procedure so that you understand what to expect and you can ask about anything you feel unsure or uncomfortable about, okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr Grey.”

  “To start with you can call me Alvin!” He smiled.

  Ooh, what gorgeous white teeth – stop it, Dez!

  Ms Thorogood was smiling too. “Alvin, put your charm away or she’ll never be able to concentrate.” Was I that transparent? But the comment broke the tense atmosphere that had lingered since yesterday’s episode and I was grateful for the humour.

  Dad also seemed to relax a little and offered to get refreshments for everyone. I think it was an excuse for him to give me some privacy with the therapist, knowing that Ms Thorogood was there as a chaperone. He probably wasn’t totally convinced that hypnotherapy was going to work but he wouldn’t jeopardise anything that might help me.

  “Let’s start by dispelling some of the myths. Despite what you may have picked up from the media about hypnosis, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do – so, no clucking like a chicken!” He glanced at Ms Thorogood, who winked at me. I blushed again.

  “Also,” he continued, “even if you sense your mind wandering, you’ll be fully aware of your surroundings so you can come back to full consciousness whenever you feel the need. Any questions so far?”

  “No. . ,” I said tentatively.

  He smiled, realising I still needed convincing.

  “Hypnotherapy helps you to relax. It closes out the interference of everyday life and allows you to reach a focussed state of concentration. Whilst you’re in this trance-like condition I’ll use
suggestion to modify your customary behaviours, feelings and thoughts.”

  “You mean, you can change who I am?”

  “No, no. The suggestions can only be accepted if you’re willing to act on them. For example, if someone wanted to stop biting their nails I wouldn’t simply tell them that they must stop biting their nails. The suggestion might be that they imagine a near future when they have beautiful, long, unbitten nails. In some cases, if there is a deep rooted problem for the stress that causes the habit, this must be dealt with first.”

  I looked down at my ragged fingernails and sore cuticles. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t bite my nails but I was rarely aware when I was actually doing it! Maybe he could help me with that too.

  “What do you think is stopping me connecting with my PT?” I asked.

  “That’s going to take some time to work out. Everyone is unique – and that’s not just a cliché. My subconscious deals with things differently from the way yours does. But there are ways to help it behave more uniformly and healthily. Sometimes it’s about allowing yourself to be a little selfish, becoming more confident and increasing your self-esteem. Many people feel guilty for wanting those attributes.”

  I was beginning to feel tearful. He was touching on a nerve – outwardly, I was generally seen as brash, confident, and always game for anything. Inside I was desperate for everyone to like me and, to achieve that, I was willing to make a fool of myself, believing laughter was evidence of acceptance. Lacking a PT had brought the little self-esteem I’d had to an all-time low.

  “Do you think you can help me connect then?” I asked, quietly.

  “Again, it’ll depend on what we discover during our sessions, Dez. I can’t make promises that I might not be able to keep. But I’ll do my best – that I can promise.”

  Dad’s timing was impeccable – or had he been hovering outside the door waiting for a suitable point to bring the drinks in?