Red Dress

by Bridget Finklaire

  You read it quickly! Let’s meet to discuss!

  Fingers poised to respond, she looked at her brood, glued to the television, and decided against it. She’d ignore Tony for now and concentrate on the family, welcome this opportunity to be with them.

  Later that evening she lay on the hard mattress, her mind full of Paris, symbols, and the sacred union of the Hieros Gamos. The time had come to approach Richard, she thought, willing herself to feel something other than dread. Creating a Daniel Craig, Bond-style fantasy in her mind’s eye before rolling over to initiate something, her lumber region went into spasm and stopped the action dead. She took a couple of paracetamols and spent the rest of the night flat on her back and motionless. Was the body saying ‘no’, she wondered? Two days later, as if to prove her theory, she got a nasty bout of thrush, just as her back was improving and she’d psyched herself up for another attempt. It must have been all that beer and treacle tart, she supposed. She wasn’t used to that much sugar.

  Chapter 19

  Katy wondered if it was worth going away. She seemed to work twice as hard either side of a break. Clients were always eager to cram in an extra appointment before she left, and on returning, she’d have a deluge of emails, post and telephone messages to attend to. On top of that was the packing, unpacking and extra washing. The holiday in the middle seemed like an illusion.

  Within hours of getting home, Katy was rushing around, spinning more plates than a Cirque du Soleil juggler. Every so often, she’d think of messaging Tony but quite honestly, she was too busy.

  Later that week in the quiet of Terry’s consulting room, she broached the subject of Richard.

  “I don’t know where to start,” she said.

  “At the beginning.”

  “I’d only been with him a few months when I got pregnant with Tilly.” She cast her mind back to the challenging pregnancy. “I was in hospital on bed-rest for weeks, in danger of losing her. I only read the parenting books once I knew she was out of the woods.” She shot a glance at Terry, who was leaning back in his chair, softly gazing at her through his round-rimmed specs. “I was so worried.”

  “Of course, that’s natural.”

  “It wasn’t just the baby, I was anxious about Richard as well. I didn’t think he’d be able to cope. Anything domestic was a mystery to him.”

  “You could say that about a lot of men.”

  Her heart was thumping as she hesitated. She’d never told anyone before. “I hadn’t known him very long and I wasn’t sure.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s very different to me. Richard’s always been aloof and impractical,” she said, staring at the pattern in the carpet. “He’s academically bright, but clueless when it comes to ordinary living. He couldn’t look after himself, let alone a child!”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “Scared! I knew the responsibility rested squarely on my shoulders.”

  “He didn’t help at all?”

  “He provided for us financially. I wanted everything to be okay, so I went along with it. I did love him. We became close, but it’s more of a friendship than a marriage.”

  Terry made a note. “Going back to the baby, did you get any help from the family?”

  “They all live miles away. My parents are like another pair of children who need entertaining, so they’re no help. His parents are in Leeds and we hardly ever see them.”

  “Did things improve once Tilly was born?”

  “She was an unusual child, complex, creative.” She paused. “Richard didn’t know how to react when I had her.”

  “To you or to the baby?”

  “Both. The situation, being a father. He didn’t seem to have the emotional intelligence to deal with it.”

  “Some fathers connect when the baby’s a bit older. Did they bond later?”

  “Not really. He went back to work straight away and left me to it.” A lump was forming in her throat. “I wanted to be the best mother possible, I wanted to do it all perfectly.” Her face screwed up as the emotions came flooding back.

  “Which is impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “I know that now,” said Katy, sniffing back the tears and composing herself. “It was the exhaustion of trying, and the complicated emotions that came up. That’s what led me to therapy. Richard’s useless with emotions, and I had to talk to someone.” She could feel her eyes prickling.

  Terry scribbled something down. “So, you have Tilly to thank for your career?”

  “I have her to thank for my marriage too. I’m not sure I’d have stayed if it wasn’t for her.” Katy could feel her stomach knotting. She’d said too much already.

  “Carry on,” said Terry, leaning forward, his features softening.

  “I’d seen another side of Richard.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “He wasn’t who I thought he was. He didn’t have many friends, wasn’t very sociable, wasn’t that close to anyone!” He still wasn’t, she realized. “But he was the father of my child, and besides, I was scared of being a single parent.”

  “And scared of being alone?”

  Katy looked up, wide-eyed. She hadn’t wanted to admit it. Terry waited until she was ready.

  “I was frightened of hurting Richard. He’d have been devastated if I’d left.”

  “Devastated?”

  “He had a terrible childhood and I felt sorry for him. He’s very fragile under that tough exterior. I decided to stay and make it work. He’s not a bad person, you know?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “His mother, Janet, abandoned him when his sister was born. She doted on Angela and ignored him. He was only two. Then he was bullied at school, and his dad was quite violent, apparently, though I’ve never seen him angry. Alan’s just a docile old man! Rich says he’s calmed down a lot.”

  “Did he go through analysis?”

  “Rich or his dad?”

  “Either.”

  “Richard came for a few sessions of couples counselling, but it was futile. As far as I know, Alan’s never had therapy. He’s a different generation, different background.” Katy frowned. People didn’t usually change like that. Terry’s fountain pen scratched across the page.

  “So, you stayed in the marriage and had your son.”

  “Richard quips that the last time we had sex was when Freddie was conceived.” She’d broached the subject at last. “It’s his way of dealing with it. He jokes about anything he can’t handle – like emotions.”

  Terry was still taking notes. “His way of resolving the tension. Better than drinking or addiction. Everyone has their coping mechanism. How do you deal with it, Katy?”

  “Keep busy.” She stared into the distance, shocked by the truth she’d finally named.

  “And what would happen if you slowed down?”

  “I’d feel guilty.” Her mouth hung open. “And I’d have no excuse because I wouldn’t be tired and stressed. I’d have to have sex with Richard, and it would be awkward and impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “I feel disconnected. There’s no warmth and tenderness there.”

  “Have you tried to be warm and tender?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t respond. He’s not warm and tender with me. There must be something wrong with me!”

  “Or with him?” Ventured Terry.

  “No. He wants sex, I don’t. It’s me that has the problem. That’s what he says. He tells me I’m frigid, and I am!”

  “You have no sexual feelings at all?”

  “Not for Richard.”

  “For anyone else?”

  “No, but I do have sexual feelings.”

  As she left Terry’s office, something flashed in her mind as if it had been placed there momentarily, like a subliminal message. She suddenly wanted to send Tony a text saying, “I love you.” It was both ridiculous and untrue. She dismissed it and carried on marching down the street towards the tube station. As she boarded her train, ano
ther unbidden thought flickered, this one even more absurd. “I want to fuck you.” It wasn’t even a phrase she’d use, let alone send as a text. Resolutely ignoring it, she stood by the doors of the carriage as the other passengers pushed past, taking all the available seats.

  Back home that evening, in the quiet of her office, her mind refused to stop. Breath. Hara. It was no use. She was ashamed of herself and angry with Richard. It wasn’t just his lack of support but his incessant joking. A sharp one-liner here and there was fine. He could cause raucous hilarity, lifting everyone with a good rib-tickler. Yep. Richard could always make her laugh, but he could never make her happy. What had the Voice said? You have to seek the wellspring of joy within. She turned her attention inwards, but the thoughts continued. Terry was right, it was Richard’s way of relieving the pressure, the underlying angst of living. What people did with their tension was important – fritter it away on an addiction, a mere habit, or harness it and use it? We could learn a lot from mother nature, she mused, casting her mind back to Freddie’s birth. It took a build-up of pressure to create life, from an orgasm to labor, from a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, to a chick hatching from an egg. Tension was a powerful commodity if you harnessed it properly. She’d once heard Dame Judi Dench being interviewed on the radio. “Are you ever nervous?” she’d been asked. “Of course, it’s the fuel that gives the performance!” Nerves, tension, pressure, fuel. It had creative power if you channeled it, and was destructive if you didn’t. The right amount was important, of course. Too little and you had no fuel, too much and it broke you. Just enough pressure could get you good marks in an exam. Too much would overwhelm you. Breath. Hara. Stillness.

  Chapter 20

  Katy hadn’t heard the Voice for ages, but as her life changed, her intuition sharpened. Shanti told her it was a by-product of awakening to a higher consciousness and becoming more aware. Flashes of inspiration would spring from nowhere, ideas would form, and she’d have moments of clear ‘knowing’ – a phenomenon that she found difficult to explain. It wasn’t a feeling, a gut instinct or even a thought, but something deeper and more fundamental. Sometimes it would be her own ‘voice’ paradoxically coming from within, yet at the same time just above and behind her, as if swinging from an invisible chandelier inside an extended head. She ignored it at first, but quickly learned to listen. “Turn left,” it would whisper while she was driving. She’d ignore it, knowing that ‘left’ was the long way around, only to find roadworks ahead that delayed her by a good twenty minutes. Damn, she’d think, if only she’d taken notice.

  As she learned to trust her innate wisdom, she started following it, not only for herself but for patients too. She’d plan a session in advance but realize, as she sat in front of the client, there was a better way. At first, she’d carry on, making it look as if she’d planned a two-pronged approach. The still, small voice, or the knowing, was always right, and within a few days, she was changing tack as soon as she got an inkling there was a better way.

  “I love you” and “I want to fuck you” darted through her mind a second time on the way home from work one evening. Where the hell was it coming from, she wondered? Finding an empty carriage on the train, she called Shanti. She’d already told her everything and knew she could trust her.

  “You sure it’s not just your subconscious?”

  “I don’t fancy him, and anyway, my libido’s flat-lined.”

  “Could be a fallen influence?” said Shanti.

  “What?”

  “Well, your psyche’s opened up!” Shanti paused. “The Voice and the intuitive hits!”

  “So?”

  “If you’re hearing the Voice, you could be letting something else in too.”

  “Do you think it’s to do with Tony? Has he done something?”

  “Could be. The Masons aren’t what you think. They’re pretty much fallen.”

  “What do you mean ‘fallen’?”

  “Dark. Negative. Not of the Light. Has he given you any secrets?” “No, why?”

  “Just wondering if there are any curses. You could dowse! Use your SRT skills!”

  “Clear anything untoward?”

  “Yes. Get rid of any contracts, cords, curses, anything that’s hanging around, anything that could be influencing you for the worse.”

  “Do you think I’m being punished?”

  “What for?”

  “I dunno. Not having sex with Richard and meeting up with an old flame.”

  “That’s not exactly a crime, is it?” Shanti’s tinkling laugh made Katy smile.

  “Thanks, Shanti.”

  “Just make sure you protect yourself.”

  “What, with sex?”

  Shanti was giggling now. “No! Protect yourself from fallen entities once you know you’re clear!”

  “Oh!” Katy chuckled. “How?”

  “Imagine yourself inside a huge mirror-ball of light, deflecting anything that comes at you.”

  “Doesn’t sound very scientific!”

  “Ask Archangel Michael to protect you then.”

  The train arrived at Turnham Green and having alighted, Katy strode home through the perfect, tree-lined streets, eager to find her pendulum and charts.

  In the quiet of her office, she asked: “Do I have anything to clear?” The crystal swung from side to side, indicating a no. “Any fallen influences, psychic hooks, cords, curses?” No.

  Putting the charts away, she paused before finishing her post-session notes and switching on the laptop.

  Hope you had a restful holiday. It was lovely to meet and catch up. We must do it again. Would love to discuss Dan Brown! When are you free?

  She was never free, she sighed, opening her big, page-aday diary, the one that Shanti called her ‘control freak’ one. This thing with Tony had to be knocked on the head. It was too time-consuming, and she wasn’t in the mood. Flicking through the pages of rigid one-hour slots, she wondered why she was bothering. A realization was forming: she didn’t like letting people down, didn’t want to upset them. Tony had been kind and she was aware of hurting his feelings. Something was driving her forward, and she found three alternative dates. That’s what she did with clients – offered them a couple of slots so they could choose whichever suited them. He probably couldn’t make any of these, she thought, punching them into an email. They were midweek, during the day, and he’d be working.

  I’ve got an appointment in Windsor this coming Tue 21 Apr. Could meet you afterwards for lunch if you can get there? Otherwise, Friday 8 May – no clients booked as yet. Monday 11 May I could meet you in the morning for coffee in town. Let me know if any of those work.

  She hit ‘send’ then ambled downstairs. Tilly and Freddie were on the sofa watching television, and Richard still wasn’t home. Her phone buzzed.

  I’ll be late. Another pow-wow but it’ll pay off. Rich x

  At around 11 pm, the children turned in, Katy following them for a goodnight hug before trudging up to the office. She’d left the laptop open and was about to shut it, when she noticed Tony’s reply.

  Can do all three. See you Tues in Windsor. Around 1 pm? Meet you outside the Theatre Royal. It’s not far from the castle and handy for the station. We’ll iron out details for the other days when I see you.

  Oh flip, she thought, he was only supposed to pick one! How was she going to wriggle out of this? She honestly didn’t have the time!

  “Time is an illusion,” said the Voice.

  “Oh My God! You made me jump!”

  “Did I? I’m so sorry.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Where I’ve always been and ever shall be. You were doing well without my counsel.”

  “Why are you back now, then?”

  “To tell you about time. You see, from your perspective, it’s the movement of the planet spinning on its axis and orbiting the sun, is it not?” The Voice could tell she was lost. “Do you not measure out the increments of your life by day and night? One revolut
ion is 24 hours. And three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter, or thereabouts, makes up your year, or the time it takes for Earth to go around the sun.”

  “Yes?” What the heck was he getting at?

  “What I’m getting at, is this.” She’d forgotten he could read all of her thoughts. “Tick-tock, the beat of the clock, neat, ordered, controlled. Do the birds or the animals worry? They go with the flow of intuitive time, a time to grow, a time to rest, a time to eat, a time to let go – for everything there is a season. But your world, Beloved, has become dominated by time.”

  Katy gulped.

  “You have no time. It’s real for you, isn’t it? Rushing down the steps to catch the train, cramming seventy minutes of work into a fifty-minute client session, juggling precisely between your 6 o’clock and your 7 o’clock client, doing everything as fast as you possibly can?”

  “Nobody’s going to tell me it’s an illusion!”

  “It’s elastic,” said the Voice. “Or relative. While you’re waiting for a bus in the cold rain, ten minutes seems impossibly long. Getting ready for an evening out, ten minutes is impossibly short.”

  By God, he’s right, thought Katy.

  “I am that, I am.” The Voice chuckled with such love and warmth that it seemed to light the entire room. “There’s a book, a teaching you may want to study. It will come when the moment is right.” “Huh?”

  “When your consciousness has expanded and your heart has opened further,” said the Voice tenderly. “When the student is ready, the teacher appears, but it’s always your choice!”

  “What book?”

  “The Book of Knowledge, The Keys of Enoch®, by Dr JJ Hurtak.”

  “Blimey, it doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue, does it?”

  “You’ll remember. But I draw your attention to it now because it describes time as a measurable period of chronology experienced within the consciousness of the specie on a given wavelength of light.”

  “What the fudge does that mean?”

  “It means that your experience of time is connected to your consciousness. The more sophisticated your consciousness, the more complex time becomes.”