‘Can I get through this first session before making up my mind?’
‘You certainly can. Today we’ll do a normal one-hour session and see where it takes us. I am as much in the dark as you are.’ She shot Sarah a warm smile of concern. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to add before we begin the therapy?’
‘No, I think we’ve covered everything.’
Kerry opened her folder and pulled a small booklet out. ‘Now, I have a book for you to take home, explaining what is involved. I would like you to read it before we start. It won’t take long. When you’re done, I will need you to sign a permission form, agreeing to participate in the therapy session.’
Sarah took her time browsing the booklet before returning the book and paperwork to Kerry.
Kerry placed everything into the folder, setting it aside with a relieved look. Potential clients were prone to pulling out at this stage and this was too serious a matter to disregard.
‘Well then,’ Kerry responded. ‘Give me a moment. I want to set a bit of ambience before we start.’ She rose and walked over to a shelf with an incense holder. Soon, the heavy smell of sandalwood flared in Sarah’s nostrils.
Against one wall, a giant amethyst rock that stood a metre high was plugged into the power socket. Kerry turned the power on and the rock lit up like a lamp. She put some meditative music on before she sat back down.
‘Done,’ she said. Her broad smile was contagious. Sarah smiled back at her.
‘Now, Sarah,’ Kerry said, setting the timer on her watch. ‘I am going to get you to lie down and get as comfortable as you can. While I give you instructions, you are to block out any distractions. Listen to my voice only. I will move my pen back and forth in front of your eyes, left to right, until you get sleepy.’ Kerry demonstrated by waving her pen.
‘I will get you to close your eyes as I count down from ten and you will fall into a deep sleep. You have nothing to fear. I will not make you do anything silly or against your will. As a matter of fact, I cannot make you do anything against your will. You are always in control.
‘Anytime during the session, if there is something that makes you too uncomfortable or disturbed, say the word and I will bring you out of your sleep.’
Kerry tried to educate Sarah a little on the history and science of the process, but Sarah’s mind wandered. She caught most keywords of what Kerry was saying, though, so she believed she would get the gist as they went along.
‘I will not coerce you in any way,’ continued Kerry. ‘The outcome will come completely from you. You have nothing to worry about after the session. You will not be stuck in a trance, nor will you fall under a trance at some given signal or code word. Unlike silly movies, I cannot make you go out and kill somebody or act like a goat.’
Sarah smirked.
‘When I bring you out of hypnosis, you will be completely awake and functioning. Ok, let’s get started,’ Kerry’s pitch hit a high note. She was obviously excited. She opened her notepad to a fresh page.
While Sarah relaxed, Kerry walked to the foot of the couch. She bent over and wheeled out a stool that was tucked away beside the couch and moved it close to Sarah’s face. Kerry took her seat and shuffled closer. She sat the notebook on her lap and held the pen up close to Sarah’s nose.
‘Now Sarah, I’m going to take you way back to the time you were burned as a witch, back to where it all started.’ Sarah studied the pen. It was nothing special, just an ordinary black-coloured Bic biro. ‘All I want you to do is stay perfectly still. I’m going to move this pen and I want you to follow it with your eyes only.’ Kerry slowly moved the pen from left to right. Sarah’s eyes followed. ‘As you follow this pen, I want you to listen to my voice only.’
Kerry’s voice was all Sarah could hear.
‘Your eyes are getting heavy and you’re getting sleepy. Heavier and heavier. Sleepier and sleepier.’
Sarah felt her eyes beginning to droop.
‘As I count down from ten, you will get sleepier and your eyes will begin to close. You will only hear the sound of my voice.’
Already, Sarah felt her eyes getting droopier.
‘Ten, nine, eight,’ Kerry’s voice was deep and serene, somewhere from afar. ‘Seven, six, five.’
Sarah was sinking.
‘Four, three, two, deeper and deeper, one.’ Darkness was taking her. ‘Zero.’
Kerry’s voice became like a dream, a voice in her head.
‘Sarah, you’re slipping through time. You’re ten, you’re nine, and now you’re a toddler. You’re back to when you were a baby. You’re going back into your mother’s womb. You’re going further back. Way back to the time you were a witch.’
There was no reaction at first, but then Kerry saw a smile break across Sarah’s face.
‘Where are you?’ Kerry asked.
‘Quarrendon.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘England.’
Kerry made a note in her pad about how Sarah’s accent had changed considerably. ‘What’s happening?’
‘We’re celebratin’ me birthday. They’re singin’ happy birthday to me. The cake has only one big candle on it.’
‘How old are you?’
She struggled for a moment. ‘Twenty-six. I’ve just turned twenty-six.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Beatrice. My name is Sarah Beatrice, but my family call me Beatrice, or Beatty.’
‘What year is it, Beatrice?’
Sarah contemplated a moment. ‘1536. I was born 1510.’
‘And can you tell me the date?’
Sarah smiled. ‘It’s me birthday, silly! Tenth of March.’
‘So, you are celebrating your twenty-sixth birthday. Is that correct?’
‘Aye. Somebody just gave me a card. The inscription says, “Happy Birthday Beatty, 1536.” I handed the card to me da to read. He can read better than I. Me da was taught by a local priest when he was a boy. Wanted me da to make somethin’ of himself. Da taught me and me ma to read.’
‘Tell me what’s going on, Beatrice. Who are the people around you?’
‘Me ma and me da. Me ma made another cake. I’m to take it next door to celebrate me birthday with the Bennets. They too want to celebrate me birthday.’
‘Who are the Bennets?’
‘They’re our new neighbours. They moved here in February, last year. Lord Bennet’s father, the old Squire, passed away. Lord Bennet came to Quarrendon to take over as our new Squire. They live in the old abbey, straight across from our cottage. Our cottage is an old farmhouse.’
‘Is your father a farmer?’
Sarah huffed sarcastically. ‘My da is a good for nothin’. He drinks too much. It’s me and me ma who earns the money. We have the gift, you see. We can read folks’ palms and see into their futures. Ma reads their tea leaves and I read their cards. The cards speak to me.’
‘I see,’ Kerry said. ‘Can you tell me who the people in your family are?’
‘There’s only me, da, and ma. The Clarke family. Thomas Clarke, Cordelia Clarke, and me, Sarah Beatrice Clarke.’
‘Why have you never married, Beatrice?’
‘I did, but he died. I was sixteen and he was twenty when we married. We moved to London. He worked on the docks when he wasn’t gettin’ drunk and I read cards. He died two years ago in a pub brawl. That’s how I came to be back with my parents. He left me nothin’. He was hopeless like me da.’ Melancholy filled her voice. ‘I did love the man, though.’
‘Did you go back to your maiden name?’
‘No. Henry was a distant cousin. He and me da were tarred with the same brush, but I was too blind to see.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Beatrice,’ Kerry said apologetically. She thought it best not to give too much pause to Beatrice’s grief. ‘Tell me more about the neighbours,’ she urged. ‘How many are there?’
‘The Bennets are a family of five. There’s Esquire Franklin Bennet and his wife Lady Maude. They have two daughters, Antonia, wh
o’s eleven, and Freya, who’s ten. They also have a son, George. There’s somethin’ wrong with him. He’s funny in the head and he can’t talk. He’s eight.’
‘Do you get along with the family?’
‘I used to, but there’s somethin’ not right. I want to stay away now. I don’t want to be anywhere near ‘em. Back at the start, ya see, I was friends with the girls. I wanted to see ‘em every day. They’re a lot younger than me, but I didn’t mind. It was to get away from me ma, ya see. She can suffocate me sometimes.
‘But then the girls became distant and started to tease me. They think I’m a witch. They were sayin’ I bewitched them. I became scared that they would say somethin’ to stir up the village. Rumours can get me hanged if I’m not careful.
‘I tried to keep my distance, stay away for as long as I could, but me ma said we should pay our respects. It’s only good manners. I honestly think me ma was tryin’ to stay in their good books to keep me safe.
‘By the time she was convinced we should cut our ties with that family, they would not let us be.’
‘Why are you so important to them?’ Kerry asked. ‘Why won’t they leave you alone?’
‘The family believes my presence makes the children’s fits cease. Like I said earlier, the children say they are bewitched, see, and I’m supposed to be their spell caster. Mr Bennet is studyin’ me to prove my innocence. He believes the children are stricken with some strange sickness and their fevered delirium creates the imaginative stories in their head.’
The timer rang loudly. Kerry pressed a dial button on her phone and then brought Sarah out of the hypnosis. Sarah had no idea what had eventuated, but Kerry gave her a quick summary. She intended to email her the full report of their session within the next twenty-four hours, as part of the fee. Sarah was hooked.
‘I was rather pleased with our session today, Sarah,’ Kerry said. ‘You’re receptive to hypnosis and I believe we covered a lot.’
A smile spread across Sarah’s face. She was rather pleased with herself, like she had just won a race. Being the high achiever she was, she wanted to be successful in everything. And she loved to hear the accolades.
‘Still, there is far more to unveil.’
Sarah’s face dropped.
‘We didn’t even come close to your burning at the stake. But I believe we are on the right track. We have set the scene leading up to that actual event. I believe the lead up will give us answers as to how and why it all happened.’
Kerry’s tone took on more of a serious air. ‘I would love to follow this through, Sarah. We’re both aware how serious this is.’ Kerry did not want to let her go. ‘I’m willing to charge half price. I’ll give you a report on everything you revealed and I’ll tape future sessions if you wish. What do you say?’
Sarah’s mind was made up. ‘Yes, I accept.’ Doubt still niggled at her, though. ‘Will this release me from my fate? You may think I’m a weirdo, but I know for a fact that I’m meant to die soon.’ Her hands were shaking. Her eyes locked with Kerry’s. ‘I’m not ready.’
The brim of Kerry’s eyes reddened. ‘That is why I am treating this as a priority, Sarah. You’re not a weirdo and I believe we can fix this. Have a little faith in me.’
‘So, when’s my next appointment then?’ Sarah asked, sending a clear message that she was willing to put her fate into the hands of Kerry Bell.
Kerry’s face brightened. ‘How about the same time next week? And given how urgent your situation is I am willing to book you in twice a week if you can make the time. Instead of keeping to one-hour sessions, we can go over. I’ll charge half price for the day, whether it lasts one hour or three or five. I’ll free up those days so I can concentrate on you.’
Sarah was so glad that somebody was finally taking her seriously, but she had her work schedule to consider.
‘Every second Friday is my rostered day off.’ She spoke with deep consideration. ‘Perhaps I can ask my second in charge to stand in for me on the other Fridays. I can tell him I’m getting treatment. I told him about my recurring dreams and that I fear I will die in a fire. He completely understands as he suffers recurring dreams too.’ Sarah and her colleague had confided in each other one day at the office, though she couldn’t remember what had prompted the conversation.
‘And perhaps I could do Saturdays or Sundays. Do you do weekends?’ Sarah enquired.
‘I’ll be happy to do the Saturdays with you,’ replied Kerry.
Sarah spoke as though her plans were set in motion. ‘Same time, Fridays and Saturdays then,’ she confirmed.
‘Great,’ said Kerry as she stood up. Without a second thought, she hugged Sarah. ‘I’ll come with you and tell my receptionist Gillian about the fees and get our sessions locked in.’
Three
Sixteenth Century England
‘Beatrice! Stop starin’ down the road and get in here.’
‘Comin’ ma,’ Beatty said. She stared at the horizon a while longer before heading down the cobbled garden path to her parents’ small cottage.
All day, she had been eager to meet the new arrivals. As the new Squire of Quarrendon, Lord Bennet and his family represented royalty to the locals.
Beatty’s mother had been trying to push Beatty into doing her chores all day, but on this occasion, the affairs in Beatty’s head outweighed the necessity of scrubbing pots and sweeping up rodent droppings.
Usually subservient to her parent’s demands, Beatty wished this one time her mother would leave her alone. Since her return twelve months ago, she had worked scrupulously, not once slacking off. Surely, after all the hours she had put in, she deserved this one time of respite.
She was eager to make new friends. The locals had not warmed to her. Her parents had moved to Quarrendon when Beatty was a child, but the locals still considered them outsiders. Despite this, they didn’t mind calling upon them for special readings or healings.
Some of the locals were threatened by the Clarke women and thought they were stirring the pot. There was not a great deal of job opportunities in the area, particularly for widows or single women, so the Clarkes made their living through mysticism and herbal healing. Certain practices were acceptable so long as they were considered a form of white magic, which was attributed to healing. On the other hand, if you practised anything that looked like black magic you were condemned as a witch.
Beatty’s mother Cordelia had made a name for herself in Quarrendon, proving herself to be the best healer around. When her daughter came of age, she too excelled in her field of mysticism.
Unfortunately, the healers and mystics already situated in town decided the Clarkes were outsiders robbing them of their profitable earnings. They turned the locals against Beatty and her mother but had failed to run them out of town as of yet.
When the Clarkes had moved to Quarrendon, it was to look for work. Thomas Clarke had promised to get off his backside and seek work so that his wife could stop her healing practices, as they were always getting her into trouble. Hence, Cordelia found herself in Quarrendon because she had been run out of yet another town. When things went wrong, it was her the townsfolk would point their fingers at.
Cordelia Clarke was sick of running. When her mind was made up, nothing could budge her. She decided that the next town they settled in would be for good and so, it was.
The small town of Quarrendon was full of healers, but they were all related somehow or other. They stemmed from two main families, Blackwell and Seymour. Before Cordelia’s arrival, the two families feuded. Both sides were run by their Matriarchs, who had been ruling their nests for five generations. Occasionally, members of each side would marry one another, which usually didn’t go down well for either family.
Now, both Blackwells and Seymours alike were united for a greater cause: to be rid of the intruders.
The isolation was getting to be too much for Beatty. She was a young lady who craved social interactions. If she weren’t so concerned for her mother, she would have
easily returned to London.
The arrival of the Squire and his family was such a fresh welcome. Beatty hoped they would not be influenced by the unpleasant rumours flying around. She was particularly excited that the Squire and his family were moving into the old abbey, which was straight across from their cottage. They would be neighbours.
The old abbey had been empty for a good while. A couple of years back, Franklin’s parents had stayed there for barely a year before moving back to the hall. When Franklin’s mother fell ill, it was her dying wish to spend her last days at the hall.
Before the Squire took residence, the abbey was a functioning monastery. It officially closed in 1533, by order of King Henry VIII. The local abbot had forthrightly spoken against him for divorcing Katherine of Aragon and marrying the heathen witch, Anne Boleyn. For such an insult, the king had him executed and left to dangle from the rope as a warning to anyone else who dared to challenge his authority.
Until then, the nearby villages had been devout, but with the absence of the church to keep order, the locals now ran wild, delving into all kinds of sorcery.
When the religious foundation was first closed, the old Squire moved into the empty abbey. After only a short while, for reasons unknown, he decided to return to his old manor. He had not disclosed the fact that his wife was dying and wished to spend her last days in Bennet Hall. His sudden and unexpected decision puzzled the villagers, given that the abbey was centred in the village and the manor was miles from town. It would take all day to walk there if the villagers needed to seek him out, and few were in possession of horses.
To add to the confusion, the old manor was in such derelict condition while the abbey remained immaculately presentable. The answer to why the old Squire preferred to live elsewhere eluded them.
Esquire George Bennet was not to blame for the state of Bennet Hall. Its downfall was due to the carelessness of his predecessors: both his father and his grandfather. Sadly, the steadfast Bennet blood had not run through their veins. They were born dodgy characters with little conscience. They had squandered their wealth and let the manor go to absolute ruin. They were rogues who both drank themselves to death.
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