by S M Stuart
Mum looked at Dad for support but Seth’s polite request couldn’t be denied without good reason.
“Make sure to be back in good time,” Dad said, looking at me and tapping his antique wristwatch.
“Just gotta clean my teeth,” I said and ran upstairs to complete my morning routine.
When I returned to the kitchen Seth was still standing by the back door – honestly, Mum, talk about good manners!
“Don’t start without me,” I called over my shoulder and I pushed Seth out onto the garden path. I heard Dad chuckling at my cheekiness as the door closed behind me.
“Good to see you’re back to your old self,” said Seth.
“Don’t bet on it,” I replied. “I simply daren’t give them an excuse to send me back to the clinic. We’re all treading on eggshells in there. It’s driving me crazy for real!”
We walked on in silence. Not a strained silence, just the quietness between friends. No need to talk for a while. Seth finally broached the subject he’d come to discuss.
“Have you had chance to think about Mum’s journal entries yet?”
“No, not yet. Sorry, I was so tired when we got home yesterday that I went straight to bed. I’ll come round to yours later – if I get through this hypno session in one piece that is! We’ll look at it together then.”
“I don’t want to influence your take on it,” he said.
“Well I’ll read, while you make the cuppas – deal?”
“Deal,” he smiled. “So long as you sneak some of your Mum’s ginger biscuits over for us.”
I punched him on the shoulder and he put his arms around me to defend himself. We wrestled briefly then stood laughing at each other’s efforts – well mine mainly, as I tried to break his firm grip with my weak struggles. Without any conscious thought our scuffle became an embrace and I laid my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Maybe you’re not quite back to normal. You’d’ve tried to knee me by now,” he said.
“Careful. I still might,” I replied, trying to manoeuvre into a threatening position. “I think those drugs they kept me doped up on must still be in my system. I feel really washed out.”
“Come on. Let’s get you back home for your appointment. Can’t have you dozing off half way through, can we?”
Seth gave me one last squeeze before releasing me. But, instead of our normal brisk pace with an arm’s length between us, we remained arm-in-arm and slowly strolled back towards home like an old married couple.
Mm – feels nice!
CHAPTER 12
Val D’Isere: February 2078
“You know, Father, it really is time you handed over the reins while you still have chance to enjoy retirement.”
“Sebastian, my boy, I’m as sharp as I ever was up here,” Benjamin Trevalyn tapped his temple. “Just because the body’s getting a tad decrepit don’t think I’m losing my marbles.” He raised his whisky glass in a mock toast. He was fully aware of his son’s wish to take over the running of the business but with a typical despot’s greed he was not ready to bow out even at the advanced age of ninety-three.
Sebastian smiled and returned the gesture. Suddenly Benjamin felt uneasy. The now-empty tumbler slipped from his trembling hand.
“You look cold, Father. I’ll go fetch another blanket for you.” Sebastian patted Benjamin’s shoulder as he walked past and disappeared into the shadows of the chalet.
As an overwhelming weakness spread through his body, Benjamin realised his mistake. He’d held on for too long and Sebastian had grown impatient. What concoction had he just drunk? It had tasted like his favourite Jura Single Malt but what if the toasted peat tones hid a more dangerous distillation? His temperature swiftly dropped and he thought he could see a figure at the end of the veranda. Who was that woman? Why didn’t she help? Surely she could see he was having problems breathing? She seemed to be smiling and it wasn’t a welcoming smile.
“Has your past finally caught up with you, Benjamin?”
No! She’s been dead for six years. I don’t believe in ghosts.
“Not a ghost, Trevalyn. Your conscience,” whispered the spectre of Julia Simpson.
“Grandpa?” Victor nudged the back of the ice cold figure and it fell forward, slipping from the wheelchair with an awful thud as it hit the wooden decking. He ran around the wheelchair to be confronted by the dull, hard stare of his grandfather and was terrified that he’d pushed the old man too hard. Grandpa must have banged his head when he fell. Victor had killed him! He ran back into the chalet, straight to his room and picked up his latest holo-game pad. When Uncle Sebastian came to tell him that Grandpa had died from a heart attack just like Daddy, twelve-year old Victor knew he’d just got away with murder!
CHAPTER 13
Ellingham: 31 July 2110
Straight face Dez. Don’t laugh.
I was sitting in Mum’s favourite comfy chair by the patio window overlooking the garden. Alvin sat on an upright ladder-back chair dragged in from the dining room but somehow he still managed to look totally at ease. He’d come into the house all smiles and confidence, oozing so much sex-appeal that Mum actually blushed before hurrying away to make the coffee. My reaction? I was surprised. Yes he was still abso-bloody-lutely gorgeous, but I was totally unfazed! All I could think about was the way I’d felt when Seth had been holding me earlier. Now that did make me feel all warm and gooey. Nah, don’t be daft. He’s my best mate that’s all.
“Are you all right, Dez?” asked Alvin.
“Yeah … Yes, thanks.” I quickly stopped my daydreaming and looked towards him hoping he couldn’t guess what I’d been thinking.
“Before we start do you have any questions or concerns?”
“No. Not really,” I said, but I can’t have been very convincing as he just looked at me with one eyebrow slightly raised. “Erm. Well I am a bit nervous,” I admitted. “A bit keyed up, I suppose.”
“That’s understandable. We all get anxious when we’re trying something new. But I want you to know there’s nothing to be worried about. Ms Thorogood and I are completely at your disposal for the next hour, or you can ask us to leave right now if you’d rather not carry on.”
Ms Thorogood nodded encouragingly from the far end of the wine-red leather sofa.
“No. I want to do this. I just don’t want to disappoint anyone if it doesn’t work.”
“Do you often feel you are disappointing people, Dez?” Alvin asked.
“Sometimes.” I started to pick at one of my ragged cuticles. “I know I’m a big disappointment to Mum.”
I expected a patronising denial but Alvin and Ms Thorogood kept quiet.
“She never says I’ve done well, even when I’ve tried my best. If I ask her whether I look nice before I go out she tells me not to be vain or she makes a comment like my skirt’s too short or my t-shirt’s tatty.”
Alvin nodded gently in acceptance of what I was saying while he made notes on his palm-pad.
Odd that – normally adults tried to defend each other or justify their take on things. I swallowed the lump of emotion building in my throat and continued, “It’s not like I’ve inherited her amazing looks – I have to work at it. I work hard at the Academy too, ’cos I haven’t got Dad’s brains either. If I wasn’t constantly being reminded about how hard it was for Mum to have me I’d think I was adopted – especially now that my PT connection hasn’t turned on!”
I was beginning to feel tearful and Alvin must’ve sensed my rising tension. He stopped keying into his palm-pad and looked at me.
“Okay, Dez,” he said. “Let’s get started, shall we? I’d like you to uncross your legs and just let your arms rest alongside your body. You can put your hands in your lap if that feels better for you.”
I shuffled around not sure how I really wanted to sit. I was feeling self conscious and desperate not to get the giggles.
“Shall I close my eyes?”
“When you’re
comfortable. It’ll help you to relax.”
I closed my eyes, although it was hard not to open them again straight away.
“Now, I’d like you to concentrate on my voice and allow yourself to forget about everything else for the moment. Don’t worry about any other noises around you. There’s nothing that needs your attention for now.”
That wasn’t too hard. He had a voice like melting chocolate – rich and warm. It was a comforting voice, soothing and it quickly made me feel safe and not at all giggly.
“Take a nice deep breath. Hold it for a moment then gently breathe out, letting your shoulders drop and allowing your whole body to relax. You can feel the tension slipping away with each breath. Your muscles are gradually relaxing in every part of your body: your face is relaxing, your neck and shoulders are relaxing, your back …”
It was amazing. Until then, I’d never experienced each muscle actually loosen and the tension drain away so physically. It felt like I was sinking into the chair and even though I knew I could move if I needed to I realised I didn’t want to. I was enjoying the sense of freedom. My arms and legs, hands and feet were utterly relaxed – I could barely feel them. Then I became aware that I’d let my concentration slide. I tuned back in to what Alvin was saying.
“… to ask you to imagine certain things. Don’t worry if you can’t picture them or if you find your mind wandering. My voice may fade into the background, but that’s fine. Just allow yourself to drift along, completely relaxed.”
Every time he said relax I felt myself drift further away. I couldn’t believe there was any tension left but at each prompt I sank deeper and deeper into a welcoming semi-conscious state. I’d never felt this safe, this comfortable, not even when Dad used to hold me tightly to his chest after I’d woken from a nightmare.
“Try to imagine, if you can, that you are standing in a park. It’s a warm evening with clear skies and a full bright moon lights the path ahead of you. In the distance you can see various coloured lights and hear the music and laughter of a traditional fairground.”
A small part of my mind reminded me that I was sitting in our lounge but I could see the lights, hear the old-fashioned pipe music from the merry-go-round and smell the fried onions. I began to walk down the moonlit path, dragging my hand along the park railings, feeling the rhythmic shudder up my arm as I hit each metal post. There was a cheerful elderly man at the gate who scanned my wrist-chip for the entry charge and, with a broad grin and a twinkle in his eye, told me to enjoy the fair.
I wandered though the crowds. There were families, the children holding tightly to helium-filled balloons of all shapes and sizes. Couples walked with their arms draped around each other – the boys strutting, full of testosterone, and the girls cuddling enormous stuffed toys. Groups of boys showed off their expertise at the rifle range while self-assured, predatory girls looked on. I smiled at the stereotypes. My imagination could be really naff sometimes!
The guy at the House of Mirrors called out to me. He bowed extravagantly and gestured for me to enter the darkened doorway. The corridor was lined with mirrors of various types, reflecting my progress in strange and comical forms. I continued along the passage until I reached a room full of mirrors – plain reflections, no distortions but hundreds of images. Or rather hundreds of me! It reminded me of the horror films we’d watch on ‘Classics Old & New’ but I didn’t feel scared, just curious to see where this was leading. I was enjoying the journey that Alvin was guiding me along.
Gradually I became aware of additional reflections materialising in some of the mirrors. In one my mother stood beside me, holding a baby and singing softly while the baby held tightly to her finger. Another had Dad’s smiling face just visible behind my left shoulder. Seth’s familiar figure strode across the background of one mirror and his mother came forward in another to put her arm around me and give me a friendly squeeze. Eventually, all but one of the mirrors had reflections of my family, friends and memories. I began to feel anxious for in each of those reflections I could sense another identity tied to the family member or friend although I couldn’t actually see the extra occupant. In the single reflection of me I was completely alone, no shadows of a third party, no sense of another presence. Just like at my Sixteenth-Eve party – there was nobody there.
“… two, three, four, five.” I heard Alvin’s voice clearly and opened my eyes.
I stretched like a cat waking from its nap then realised my cheeks were wet. I’d been crying.
“I think we’ll leave it at that for today, Dez.” Alvin reached out to me with a tissue.
“Thanks,” I said, embarrassed by my reaction. “I didn’t know I was crying. I’m not really upset. I suppose it just brought stuff back from my sixteenth when my PT connection didn’t turn on. Honestly, I feel much better than before. I never realised I could be so relaxed.”
The anxious frown left Alvin’s face and he smiled reassuringly.
“If you’re really up to it we can continue in a couple of days. Or we can leave it until next week if you’d rather.”
“No. The sooner the better,” I said.
“Good. Debbie, we can manage Saturday morning, can’t we?”
“Yes. That’ll be fine.”
I’d never thought of Ms Thorogood as a Debbie! Then I realised what Alvin had asked her.
“Please don’t spoil your weekend. I lost track of what day it is. I’ll wait until next week,” I said, hurriedly, hoping they didn’t think I was being awkward.
“Being self-employed makes me master of my own diary,” Alvin said. “Now, Dez. This is just the beginning – don’t expect miracles, okay?”
I nodded.
“Sometimes the subconscious can be bit stubborn so have patience. And don’t worry about not having a PT connection. There are quite a few folk who haven’t got them and they manage to get along just fine. After all, it makes no physiological difference. Telepathic twinning is still a fairly new twist to our evolution. We’ve only had it for a couple of generations or so and we’re still trying to discover how it happened.” I must have been showing signs of having lost the thread. “What I’m getting at is that you mustn’t feel you’re a freak for not having a PT. If anything, you’re still the normal one and we’re all the freaks!” he said.
“Alvin, please don’t start patronising me now,” I said. “I can’t help how I feel about the telepathic stuff. You only have to see the way non-telepaths are treated to know that they’re seen as deficient. Racism and sexism might’ve died out decades ago but there’ll always be someone at the lower end of the pecking order – this time it’s us Empties.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Omigod. I’m sorry, Alvin. I didn’t mean to be offensive,” I gasped.
“Don’t apologise, Dez. You’re right. Making light of the situation was insensitive of me. I’m the one who’s sorry. Are you happy to continue with the sessions?”
“Yes. Of course! If there’s the slightest chance that we can fix this it’s worth the effort. And if not – well, at least you can help me ‘come to terms with it’.” I looked at Ms Thorogood and winked at her.
“Atta girl!” she whispered.
Just hope I can come to terms with it!
CHAPTER 14
Ellingham: 31 July 2110
Coming to terms with it? Suppose Alvin’s right, I’m no different to the person I was before my sixteenth. But isn’t that part of the problem?
I gave a jaw breaking yawn and wondered why I was so exhausted after the morning’s hypnotherapy session. After all, I’d felt like I’d been sleeping through half of it.
“Desirée. If you’re so tired you should cancel your plans to go out and rest here instead.”
“Mum, please! I’m old enough to know when I’m ready for bed. I just need some fresh air to blow away the drowsiness from the hypnotherapy. A walk with Seth’ll do me more good than moping around the house and getting under your feet.”
“Dez is ri
ght, Celeste. We shall have a nice quiet afternoon while she gets some exercise,” said Dad, as he cleared the lunch plates from the kitchen table.
“I’m just worried that she’ll overdo it,” said Mum, seeming to forget that I was still in the room.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“And I shall be in the study so you can stretch out on the sofa and get some rest yourself, Celeste.” Dad often worked from home.
“Rest? I haven’t got time to rest. Do you realise how much work it takes to keep the house looking half-way decent? …”
I left before Mum’s complaining spoiled my relaxed mood from the session with Alvin. I collected my bag from the hallway and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. For the first time since my sixteenth I felt that it was going to work out, even if the PT never turned on – I’d manage somehow. The short stroll to Seth’s did clear my head, although I was mid-yawn again when he opened the door for me.
“Jeez, Dez! I nearly fell in,” he laughed.
He earned himself a second punch of the day. Oops! That reminded me why he got the first one.
“Sorry. I forgot the biscuits,” I said. “Mum was going into one about all the chores she insists on doing, so I legged it.”
“Aw. I’ve been looking forward to them all day. Now we’ll have to make do with shop-bought chewy-nut cookies.”
“Well, at least they’re not choc-chip!”
We went through to the kitchen, which looked just as it had the other evening. I’m sure the washing pile was exactly how I’d left it. Yes, they’d left the colour-load in the machine – oh yuck. I opened the washer door and the smell confirmed it. I recharged the silver detergent ball and set the programme onto a short but intensive wash.
“You’re being typical cavemen. You know that don’t you?” I scolded.
“Mm,” Seth agreed as he poured the tea. “Cookies are on top of the fridge,” he said, pointing in the general area of the refrigerator.
