The interior housed a couch backing onto one wall and a pair of comfortable looking armchairs. Framed prints of landscapes lined the walls. She pushed the door shut and flicked on a light switch. A welcoming glow emanated from the uplighters on three of the four sides.
“Is it warm enough for you?” she asked. “I can put a heater on if it’s too cold.”
“No, I’m fine,” Annalise replied.
“Okay. Well, take a seat. You can either lie on the couch or sit in the armchair, whichever you’re most comfortable with.”
Annalise chose the chair. “Do you have many patients?”
“Yes, actually, more than I can handle. I have to turn some away, but your case sounded particularly interesting, and I think I can help you. Let’s start by you telling me what you hope to achieve by coming here.”
“It’s simple, really. I want to remember what happened.”
The hypnotherapist steepled her fingers. “Your father gave me the basics on the phone, but I’d like you to tell me in your own words about the events leading up to the accident. Oh and please call me Rachel.”
Annalise began at the night before the trip. She went through what she had been told about the day itself, and how she woke up from a coma eleven months later.
When she had finished, Rachel leaned back and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She took a deep breath, sat forwards, and fixed her gaze on Annalise’s face. “The mind is a strange thing. It doesn’t always do what we want. Sometimes it’s simply trying to protect us.”
“Protect us?”
“Yes. Our subconscious may try to block things before we’re ready to handle them. I must admit I’m wary about delving too deeply so soon after your recovery.”
Annalise frowned. “So you’re not going to help me?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying we’ll need to take it slowly and gently. Have you ever been hypnotised before?”
Annalise shook her head. “No.”
“I know there’s this stereotype of a man with a pocket watch, dangling it before a patient’s eyes and putting them into a trance where the person will do whatever they’re told and remember nothing afterwards. That couldn’t be further from the truth. At no point will you be unconscious, and I won’t make you do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. All we attempt to do is put you, the patient, in a relaxed state. You’ll be in control at all times. Hopefully it will enable you to access your hidden memories. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, let’s begin. Start by closing your eyes.”
Annalise did as she was instructed.
“Now, imagine you’re on a desert island. Nobody else is there. You have the place entirely to yourself. Palm trees border a golden sandy beach. You’re lying on your back on an airbed, floating in the water. It’s a glorious sunny day, and you can feel the warmth on your skin. The sea and the sky are a brilliant shade of turquoise. You’re gently bobbing up and down. The only sound is the lapping of the waves. Your breathing is deep and regular. A sense of great calm is washing over you. Every muscle is relaxed.
“All stress has vanished from your body. We’re going to work our way from your head to your toes, concentrating on relaxing all your muscles, one at a time. Your forehead is smooth. Your face is turned to the sun. The rays are penetrating your skin and warming you from the inside. There is no tension in your neck. Everything is loose. Starting at your shoulders, focus your attention on your left arm, feeling all tightness disappear. Down to your elbows and slowly to your fingers. Now to your right arm. Once again, I want you to sense a wave of relaxation drifting down to your fingertips. Feel the slight pressure pushing up against them.
“Your chest is rising and falling. The gentle swell is rocking you backwards and forwards in time with your breathing. Moving lower, the airbed is soft and supporting your back. Down to your thighs. Your muscles are relaxed. Now your knees. The warm glow of the sun is caressing your skin. Your feet. A deep relaxation is suffusing every part of your body, all the way into the tips of your toes.
“You are totally calm. Your mind is clear. Listen to the lapping of the water. Take slow, regular breaths. Let’s hold it there for a minute.”
The hypnotherapist stopped talking. The rustle of her clothes seemed loud as she adjusted her position on the armchair. “Now, think back to the night of Friday the twenty-eighth of April last year. You’ve just been out to the pub with your boyfriend, Mark, and you’re lying in bed. You put down your book and turn off the light. Tomorrow is the day of the trip. I’ll count upwards from one to ten. When I get to ten, it will be the Saturday morning. I want you to tell me what you see.
“One; you rest your head on the pillow. Two; you’re feeling sleepy. Three; your breathing slows. Four; you’re starting to drift off. Five; you are fast asleep. Six; daylight is edging around the curtains. Seven; you are beginning to wake up. Eight; you are becoming more aware. Nine; you are now fully awake. Ten; you open your eyes and get up.”
Chapter 37
11 months ago
Annalise yawned and descended the stairs. She glanced at her watch: eight thirty-five. Mark would be here in less than an hour to pick her up. She was looking forward to a day away from the continuous revision. It seemed like the past few weeks had been a constant battle to cram more information into her already overloaded brain ahead of her forthcoming A levels. It had become so bad she was even dreaming about mathematics problems. She would be glad when it was all over, and she could finally relax.
In some ways, she envied her sister. Beatrice had always displayed a laid-back attitude when preparing for examinations. She would do the bare minimum of revision but seemed to do just enough to achieve expectations. Everybody thought academic achievement came easily for Annalise. She was near the top of her class in all subjects. At times she wanted to scream that she only obtained high grades because she worked hard. When her friends were out partying, she often had her nose stuck in a textbook. Well, today she was going to have a good time and sod the schoolwork.
She rolled her eyes at the sound of clanking pots coming from behind the closed kitchen door. Her mother didn’t know how to relax. The thought of lying in bed and reading, for example, was anathema to her. Annalise entered the room to discover Sophie bent down in front of a cupboard.
“You’re up early,” her mother said as she straightened up.
“I’m going out with Mark, remember.”
“Shouldn’t you be revising?”
“Look, Mum. It’s not possible to work all the time. I’m having a day off today. There are still four or five weeks to go.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Here, come and give your mother a hug. I can’t believe how big both my girls are.”
Mother and daughter embraced.
After a few seconds Annalise pulled away. “Mark will be here in under an hour. I have to hurry.”
A frown creased Sophie’s forehead. “I hope you’re not going to let boys get in the way of your studies. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for that afterwards.”
Annalise crossed her arms. “Come on Mum, I’m not a little girl anymore. I enjoy spending time with him, and I need something to take my mind off my exams. It’s not that serious. Anyway, I thought you liked him.”
Her mother shrugged. “I do like him, but I recognise that look in his eyes. It reminds me of your father just before he popped the question.”
“Christ, Mum, we’re not going to do that one again, are we?”
“All I’m saying is that you’re still young. There’s no need to rush into things.”
Annalise shook her head. “I’m not rushing into things. Give me a bit of credit.”
Sophie turned her back and started to empty the dishwasher. “It’s your life,” she muttered.
Annalise grabbed two slices from the breadbin and placed them in the toaster, her good mood shattered. It seemed to take an age before the toast popped up, the silence extending like an invisible b
arrier between them. She whipped the slices out and buttered them, then carried the plate into the lounge. She knew her mother meant well, but she could be so annoying.
The television showed a newsreader smiling into the camera. “... and after abseiling down the skyscraper, he proposed to her on bended knee. The onlookers cheered when she said yes.” Everybody was fixated on the same subject today. In annoyance, Annalise picked up the remote and clicked the off button.
The shower helped to ease some of the tension that had developed in her shoulders. She dried her hair and slipped into a T-shirt and jeans. She considered applying makeup, but her thoughts returned to her mother’s words. A natural coloured lipstick was all Mark could expect by way of cosmetics today. The sound of a horn drew her to the window. On the road outside the house sat a red sports car. The roof was down, and Mark waved from the driver’s seat. So that was what he was so excited about last night. She sighed in relief.
She grabbed her small shoulder bag and hurried downstairs. “See you tonight,” she called as she pulled the front door open.
Her mother emerged from the kitchen. “Have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”
Annalise waved goodbye and jogged to the parked car.
“Just shove the gear behind you,” Mark said as she slid into the passenger seat. There were no rear seats. “Do you like it?”
He continued without waiting for a reply. “I thought we could travel down to the New Forest, have lunch in Lyndhurst, and then maybe carry on to the south coast at Lymington.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll tell you whether I like it when I see how well you drive it.”
Mark laughed and pushed the gearstick forwards.
***
They stopped for fuel twenty miles before Lyndhurst. The small car was fun, but the continuous blast of wind made Annalise feel like her hair was trying to escape from her head. She patted some stray strands back into place and asked Mark if they could put the roof up.
He ran a hand through his own hair. “I wondered why other MX5 drivers always seem to wear baseball caps. Now I know. I should get a matching pair of his and hers, like a rally team.”
Annalise smiled. Mark pressed a button on the dashboard. The canopy rolled into position accompanied by the whir of motors. She waited in the car while he stood at the pumps and inserted the nozzle. The acrid scent of petrol percolated through the open window.
“Do you want anything?” he asked, ducking down to her level.
“I’m okay. I can wait until we stop for lunch.”
Mark sauntered towards the pay booth and returned two minutes later. He settled himself into the driver’s seat and glanced sideways. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Annalise’s heart dropped as she recalled her mother’s words. She really hoped he wasn’t building up to a big speech.
Mark started the engine. His eyes flicked left to Annalise then back to the road. “We’ve been going out for a couple of years now and ... well ... there are things you don’t know about me.”
“Let me guess. You’re a Russian spy,” Annalise said, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m being serious here. I’ve never told anybody this stuff before.”
Annalise stared straight ahead. Her heart fluttered, and she could sense the blood rising in her cheeks. Here it comes.
Mark hesitated and stole another glance. “This is really hard for me, but you deserve to have all the facts ... before this gets any more serious.”
Maybe this wasn’t what she had expected after all. “Well I know you’re not gay, so it can’t be that.”
A flash of annoyance crossed Mark’s face. “You mustn’t reveal what I’m about to say to anybody else. I’m in two minds whether to tell you even now.”
Annalise turned sideways in her seat. “Come on, Mark. I’d never repeat anything you didn’t want me to. I’m not like that.”
Mark took a breath and exhaled loudly. “Something happened when I was ten years old. My real name isn’t Mark Webber. Well, it is now, but it wasn’t back then. It’s not the name I was given at birth, anyway.”
Annalise stared at her boyfriend. Mark kept his eyes on the road.
“I don’t understand. I know you were orphaned and taken into care. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“I never told you how I lost my parents—well, not the truth in any case.”
“You said they died in a car crash.”
Mark remained silent for a moment. “They didn’t. It was just easier to tell you that. In fact, I say the same thing to everybody who asks.”
“I ... I’m confused. If they weren’t killed in a crash, how did they die?”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain if you’d just let me talk.”
Annalise frowned. What the hell was coming? “Go on then.”
Mark shot a glance across to the passenger seat. He raised a hand and scratched his cheek. “Um ... I was responsible for their deaths.”
Chapter 38
Rachel Haseldene leaned forwards in her armchair. “Four; you’re sitting in my consulting room. Three; you’re coming back to full wakefulness. Two; you’re fully awake. One; you feel relaxed and refreshed. I want you to open your eyes now.”
Annalise blinked and stared in confusion at her surroundings.
“How are you feeling?” Rachel asked.
“Okay ... I guess. What just happened?”
“You were starting to remember, but your breathing got faster. It was clear something was making you very uncomfortable. I thought it best to bring you out.”
Annalise shook her head. “I was in the car with Mark. He started to make this big speech—a confession, I suppose. It was about his parents. He told me he was responsible for their deaths.”
“I think we need to take this slowly. I’m fairly certain the reason you’ve lost your memory is that your mind is trying to protect you. Whatever memories were returning, you obviously found them distressing. My recommendation would be that you let it come naturally.”
“I’m facing a fourteen-year jail sentence for causing death by dangerous driving, and I can’t remember anything about it. What would you do in my circumstances?”
The hypnotherapist sighed. “I’m sure if you give it time—”
“Time is the one thing I don’t have,” Annalise interrupted. “The police have scheduled an interview for tomorrow. What am I supposed to say? How can I defend myself if I can’t recall what happened?”
“In my professional opinion, your conscious mind isn’t yet ready to learn all the facts. You suffered a particularly traumatic injury, and I think you should let things heal at their own pace. I imagine the police will understand if you tell them you’re undergoing hypnotherapy.”
“So can we schedule another session?”
“I’d like to have a chat with your parents first.”
“Why? I’m nineteen years old. I don’t need their permission. I’ll pay for it by myself.”
A gentle smile crossed Rachel’s lips. “Your father has already paid my fees for this consultation and the next one, but that’s not really what I’m getting at. They should be kept informed about what could happen and be ready to support you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure how to put this. It’s possible it might be too much to handle all by yourself. The backing of your family may be essential to help you get through things. I just want them to be aware.”
“Well, my dad’s coming to pick me up, so maybe you could have that conversation with him when he arrives.”
Rachel glanced at her watch and stood. “I’d be happy to do that. Why don’t we go back to the house, and I’ll make a cup of tea while we wait? There are only five minutes left anyway. There isn’t another patient for half an hour.” She opened the door and held it open.
Annalise followed as she led the way through the garden to the rear entrance. “I think I’m going to ask him.”
Rachel
paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned around, a puzzled look on her face. “Ask whom? And what?”
“Mark. He revealed his big secret once before, so why wouldn’t he tell me again?”
The hypnotherapist locked eyes with Annalise. “I assume he knows you’ve lost all memory of that day. From what you’ve just told me, he obviously found it hard to talk to you about this the first time. If I were you, I’d wait until the memories return of their own accord.”
“I need to know what happened.”
“I realise this must be frustrating, but I really think you should be patient. Let’s go and have that cup of tea.”
Annalise sat at the sturdy oak table while Rachel filled the kettle and retrieved a teapot from the cupboard. She stared around at the tidy kitchen. “Do you have any children?”
Rachel half turned. “No. We wanted them, but it never happened. It’s just my husband and me. Why do you ask?”
“You’ve got a big house. I wondered why you built your office in the garden.”
“It’s like I said before, I needed somewhere private where I wouldn’t be disturbed. My husband doesn’t even have a key to get into my consulting room. He works from home sometimes, and he’s not the quietest person in the world. There are loads of video conferences and so on.”
“What job does he do?”
“He’s a management consultant.”
“Oh.” Annalise had no idea what being a management consultant entailed.
The click of the kettle signalled that the water had boiled. Rachel warmed the teapot, then opened a tin and deposited three spoonfuls of tealeaves within. “One each and one for the pot,” she explained, stirring the contents with the spoon. She was pouring the tea through a strainer when the doorbell chimed.
“That’ll be your dad,” she said. “I’ll just let him in.”
Annalise remained at the table and sipped at the scalding hot liquid. She couldn’t understand why anyone would bother with all the rigmarole of teapots and loose leaves when a teabag in a mug would suffice. Her mother was the same. Perhaps it was a generational thing.
The Colour of the Soul Page 16
