by S M Stuart
“Here we are,” he said, handing round the cups. “Sorry I was a while. I had a problem finding a machine that had sweeteners.”
“You shouldn’t have worried about those,” exclaimed Ms Thorogood. “I could have managed without.”
“Nonsense. It was no trouble at all. How do you feel about Mr Grey helping you with your PT dilemma, sweetheart?” he asked me brightly, as though it really was up to me to make the decision.
“I’ll give it a go. Anything’s worth a try, I suppose.”
“Dez. You really must want to do this for it to have any chance of success,” said Alvin. “It’s no good unless you’re committed to the therapy.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, Mr Grey.”
“Alvin – remember? Don’t worry, Dez. I’m not offended, just worried that you might be damaging your chances if you don’t believe in the process. I once treated a woman who told me the sessions weren’t helping her. I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t a particularly difficult condition to treat. At the third appointment she asked when I was going to hypnotise her. When I asked her what she meant she said I hadn’t done it because I hadn’t been using a swinging crystal pendant! Although it was against everything I know about hypnotherapy I performed this little ritual for her and … bingo… the treatment worked. Previously, she hadn’t believed anything was happening, so it didn’t, but once she’d had her ‘proper’ session it all fell into place.” He was chuckling ruefully and shaking his head at the memory.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m up for it – one hundred percent!”
Alvin and Ms Thorogood finished their drinks and made arrangements to see me again the following day – either in the clinic or at home as we weren’t sure whether I could be discharged yet. When they’d left I delivered my well-rehearsed plea.
“Dad, please let me come home. I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday. It’s just that I’ve never been in hospital before. I was frightened and angry that you’d left me here. I know it was necessary, but I’m fine now, honestly. And I’ll do whatever it takes to stay fine. Please?” I could see him wavering, time for the final push. “I miss Mum.” As I said it I realised I actually meant it and genuine tears came again.
“All right, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do. Don’t get upset again.” I could hear the catch in his voice as he held me to his broad, warm chest. His cologne was some ancient woody fragrance and it mixed with the just-washed scent of his shirt. The familiar homely odours made me cling to him harder until the panic of being left in the hospital passed. My Dad, my hero.
***
While Dad was convincing the medical staff that I could be trusted not to throw myself under the ten-twenty to Euston I tried to keep my fingernails away from my mouth.
“What’s the matter?”
I glanced up to find Seth looking at me from the doorway.
“What do you mean?”
“You were staring at your hands with such a frown on your face. What’s up?”
“I’m gonna stop biting my nails!” I declared.
“Oh. Right.” Seth seemed uncertain how to react to my suddenly light-hearted mood.
I patted the bed. The sensors and side panels had been retracted for the time being and, although it was against hospital policy for visitors to sit on the bed, I felt the need to flout a rule or two. I was reasonably safe – Nurse Bridges was on duty and he was much more sympathetic than Marion.
“Come on. Tell me what’s going on out in the big wide world, then.”
Just as Seth was about to sit down, Dad came to the doorway. Seth leapt up again as though the bed was filled with therma-coals! I chuckled to see his face colouring up – Mum never allowed him into my room at home and now my dad had caught him about to sit on my bed.
“Don’t mind me, Seth. I was just coming to tell Dez that I have to go and collect some clothes for her. She can come home today!”
Dad blew me a kiss as he almost skipped through the ward towards the exit. I hadn’t realised how hard it was for him to deal with all this until I saw how pleased he was that I could leave.
Seth playfully slapped my arm.
“Traitor,” he said. “You could’ve warned me he was coming in.”
“Sorry,” I giggled. “But you did look funny – all rabbit-in-headlights! Anyway, what’ve you brought?” I pointed to the packet that he was holding close to his chest.
He looked at it as though he’d forgotten he had it then slowly, almost shyly, he handed the parcel to me. His expression was serious, all traces of our earlier laughter gone.
“This must have fallen out of your pocket as you ran out of our house the other evening.”
I looked inside the bag. My old e-diary! As the power cell charged under the ward lights the screen lit up on the news report about Elizabeth.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’d forgotten all about that. It’s what made me come over that night. I needed to tell you everything – why I’ve been such a rotten mate recently. Thinking about your mum reminded me to take care of our friendship.”
“Seeing it like that was a bit weird.” He gestured towards the e-diary screen.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag up bad memories.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said. “It’s just … I found this soon after Mum’s funeral.” He handed me a small cloth wallet from his back pocket. “I thought, after the other night, it might help you. Dunno if you’ll understand it any more than I do but, together, we might work it out.”
Inside the wallet was a ‘Handi’ – a compact rigid version of my e-diary. The cover was decorated with a marble-effect pattern and the back panel was engraved:
To my darling Lizzy,
For all your memoirs and memories.
Hope they always include me! Yours forever, Sam xx
I looked up at Seth and tried to pass the Handi back to him. “I can’t, it’s private.”
“Please,” he whispered.
I could see he was struggling to keep himself together so I fought my own emotions and powered-up the Handi, feeling like I was walking over Elizabeth’s grave.
Using the stylus to choose the appropriate icon, I opened the journal to see Elizabeth’s fine calligraphy on the first page:
Journal – Elizabeth Wallis
1/1/2105 – 26/10/2106
So sorry. I love you, my darling boys.
“She liked to use a stylus to write – remember?” said Seth. “She only used the predictive key-screen when she was in a hurry. She must’ve been in a hurry the night she died.” He pointed at the typical computer font that made up the second half of the entry.
I knew I wouldn’t have time to read the journal thoroughly before Dad got back. To get an impression of the contents, I skimmed my finger across the screen and quickly glanced at the pages. I saw that Elizabeth’s normally exquisite handwriting became untidy in the last quarter, or so, of the journal. Several news reports had been cut from the InfoNet and pasted onto the pages.
“Keep it for now,” Seth said. “Take it home and read through it. Then we can talk about it.”
“Are you sure? It feels intrusive. Won’t your dad mind?”
“Dad doesn’t know about it. Don’t you see, he never can?” He brought up the title page again: ‘So sorry’.
“Oh.” I realised what he meant and why he’d thought it might help me. “No-o. That could mean anything, she may’ve felt sorry about something but after the accident you could’ve overlooked it.” Even to my own ears it sounded hollow. “Anyway, I keep telling you, I wasn’t trying to…” I tapered off, knowing as I said it that I’d confirmed his fears – he was convinced that his mother had killed herself and he suspected that, in my blind panic, I’d almost followed the same path.
Oh, Seth. When will you believe me?
CHAPTER 11
Ellingham: 30/31 July 2110
Please let Mum be happy to see me!
Dad opened the front door and called out, “We’re
home!”
He turned towards me and gestured for me to go into the house first. I hesitated. It felt strange to stand on the doorstep, unsure of the welcome that waited for me. Only two days since I’d gone over to visit Seth but it seemed like a lifetime. So much had changed in such a short space of time. My non-connection with a Psyche-Twin was now family knowledge. My temper tantrum and hospitalisation were swiftly becoming old news in the neighbourhood – thankfully! And my best friend had shared his deepest, darkest secret – that he believed his mother had committed suicide and that the reason why was hidden in her journal. I had so much to process and I’d been left pretty much on my own to deal with it.
“Come on, sweetheart,” said Dad. “Let’s get you inside and have a nice cup of tea.”
At that moment, Mum appeared at the end of the hall, wiping her hands on an old-fashioned apron. The smell of home-baked ginger biscuits made my mouth water – my favourites, especially when she put pieces of crystallised ginger in them. She paused, as if she was as nervous as I was, then she smiled.
“Welcome home, Dez.” I could see her struggle with my abbreviated name and I appreciated her effort.
“Thanks, Mum.” I almost ran down the hall into her embrace. It was a brittle, fragile hug. It felt like she would break if I held her too tightly, but it was surprisingly good to be close to her again. For a moment I felt her tremble as she held herself in check and I couldn’t work out whether it was disappointment about my lack of a PT connection or relief that I was safely home again that made her so emotional. I tried to believe it was the latter, but the doubts were there. The hug quickly became awkward and we stepped back from each other. Dad was cheerfully oblivious to the undertones and smiled at the mother and daughter reunion.
“Celeste, you spoil us with those delicious biscuits of yours,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He was making loud sniffing noises and he gave her a swift kiss on the cheek as he walked past her to the kitchen. “Mmm. ‘Good sniffs’, as my old grandpa used to say.”
Mum’s face softened at both the compliment and Dad’s chirpy behaviour. Sometimes I got a glimpse of the woman he’d fallen in love with and I wished she could surface more often or – even better – permanently. When she wasn’t frowning or fretting Mum was a real stunner, with perfectly defined cheekbones; a delicate, slightly pointed chin; large dark eyes; and a sweet snub little nose. She must have had hordes of boys after her in her youth. I glanced at the photo-shots along the wall. The older ones showed her laughing and happy – all well before I was born. Had I made her change so much? Was I such a terrible child? I swallowed my thoughts, not wanting to fall into another round of resentful feelings. She was making an effort – baking my favourite treats and calling me Dez – the least I could do was meet her half way.
“You’ve got a spot of flour,” I said and used a corner of her apron to clear the smudge from her still-smooth cheek.
“Thank you, dear.” And for that instant she held me in a loving gaze that I wished would last forever. The moment passed as she turned to stop Dad demolishing the entire batch of baking. “Jonathan, don’t eat all those biscuits. Remember we have visitors tomorrow.”
After our tea and biscuits (“Only two for now, if you don’t mind, Jonathan!”) I felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. It was early evening but I decided I’d head off to bed before the fragile truce between us was broken.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything for dinner?”
“No thanks, Mum. The biscuits were enough for now.”
“I can bring up a tray for you later. If you like?”
“I’ll probably sleep through. But I’ll come down if I need anything. Don’t worry.”
I just wanted to get to my room and take a deep, settling breath. The tension was mounting already. We hadn’t talked about what had happened the other night or about my lack of a PT. Did they think that by not saying anything it would go away? Maybe I was jumping the gun. Maybe they’ve been looking for the right opportunity to broach the subject. Maybe they were waiting for the outcome of my sessions with the hypnotherapist. But now I understood the phrase ‘an elephant in the room’ – something huge that nobody wants to acknowledge! Ah, well, I’ll just take my elephant to bed, then.
***
I woke early the next morning and, for once, was keen to get out of bed. I was ravenously hungry and desperate for a long, hot shower – the showers had been lukewarm and auto-restricted to three minutes in the clinic, hardly time to get wet never mind wash my hair! Even getting the shampoo in my eyes didn’t bother me this morning. I was home and the gorgeous Mr Grey – ahem, Alvin – was coming to sort me out. Rephrase – sort out my PT troubles. Talk about schoolgirl crush! How was I going to cope with his lusciousness when he got control over my brain? Hang on the shower’s throwing a thermo wobbly – no it’s just me having a hot flush. Calm down Dez!
As if being sixteen wasn’t hard enough with all the raging hormones, I now had a non-existent PT and a budding crush on the guy who was supposed to help me find myself. I turned the water to cold, both to close my pores and to cool my flirtatious thoughts. As I stepped out of the shower I knew it was stupid even to consider the therapist in those terms. It was never going to happen. Besides the ethical minefield of patient/practitioner relationship, he was way too old for me anyway! I grinned at my reflection in the Stay-Clear mirror and started to detangle my hair. Seth would find all this hilarious. He’d soon put me straight. But just the thought of him made me stop the hairbrush in mid-stroke. My juvenile fantasies about Alvin Grey/Denzel Washington evaporated and something rigid settled in my chest. Now what? Oh, yeah. Things were changing between Seth and me now. We had to deal with the serious stuff about his mum and his belief that she – and I – had wanted to die! Trivial, jokey stuff wasn’t likely to be on the agenda now. My good mood disappeared along with the fantasies and the resident lump in my chest gave a triumphant twist, choking a couple of dry sobs from me before I got it under control again.
“Dez, sweetheart. Are you all right?” Dad called, as he passed the bathroom door on his way downstairs.
“Yeah. I’m good. Be out in a min.”
I quickly pulled my still-damp hair into a loose ponytail, picked up the used towels, hung them over the rail, and opened the window to dispel the lingering steam.
“The solar panels should manage more hot water in an hour or so!” Dad teased, as I hungrily started on my breakfast.
“Sorry,” I mumbled around a mouthful of granola. “Just needed to wash away the clinic.”
“I was only joking, sweetheart.” His brows furrowed as though he was worried that I was going to go off on one again.
Well, I suppose I’ll have to get used to that now. I thought. “S’okay, Dad. I know.”
His forehead relaxed with obvious relief.
“What time are Ms Thorogood and Alvin coming?” I asked.
“Mr Grey, dear,” said Mum.
“He told me to call him Alvin.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose if he said so it must be all right then. But I must say it seems rather over-familiar to me.”
“Mum. You can be so old fashioned sometimes.” I surprised both of us by giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as I walked behind her towards the dishwasher.
Sitting back at the kitchen table I asked again, “So what time are they coming then?”
“We settled on ten-thirty. Remember?” Dad answered.
“I knew it was this morning but forgot the time, that’s all.” I didn’t want to admit that Seth’s visit had sent everything else straight out of my head. I’d kept his mother’s Handi out of sight. I instinctively knew that he wanted it to be our secret for now. Seth was convinced his mother’s reputation was at risk if it became public knowledge that she’d committed suicide. People could be so narrow-minded. Surely they realised that if you’d got to the point of wanting to end your life you weren’t going to be thinking straight. Ms Thorogood had told us that even your
PT couldn’t overrule your deepest feelings. But what had made Elizabeth so despairing of her life that she felt she had to end it? Whatever it was, it must’ve been awful – especially as she was adored so openly by her family and friends. It couldn’t have been easy to leave her beloved Samuel and Seth behind.
“Dez, sweetheart. Dez? Are you listening?” Dad’s voice finally got through my morbid thoughts.
“Mm? Sorry, Dad. What were you saying?”
“I was asking you if you wanted one of us to sit in on your session with Mr Grey?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. No offence, but I’m going to find it hard enough to concentrate on the whole hypnotic trance thing. Anyway, isn’t Ms Thorogood coming along? She’ll be there to keep an eye on me.”
“You’re probably right, Desirée. We’d only get in the way.”
I could tell by the tone in Mum’s voice that she had taken offence even though I’d said not to. Or maybe she was uncomfortable about the hypnotherapy process too. I didn’t know her opinion of the treatment – we hadn’t had chance to discuss it. Just as I was about to ask her there was a tentative knock on the back door. The silhouette showing through the door’s privacy screen was obvious.
“Come in, Seth,” I called. Mum frowned. In her opinion it’s polite to greet visitors face-to-face and she hates it when I shout through closed doors.
Seth came in looking bewildered. “How’d you know it was me?”
My exaggerated look towards his head gave him the message. He automatically tried to smooth his hair, with the usual lack of success. We grinned at each other, almost embarrassed by the normal banter but not knowing why.
“Desirée has an appointment this morning,” Mum said.
“Yes, I know, Mrs Hanson. Sorry to bother you so early but I was hoping to catch up with her before that. It’s a nice morning. I thought a walk in the fresh air might do her some good. If that’s okay with you?”