He shrugged. “Not especially, no.”
“You must have masturbated before you met Caroline.”
“I expect so.”
“You expect so? Don't you remember?”
Annoyed, “Alright, yes, I masturbated. Doesn't everybody?”
“How?”
“What?”
“How? I mean, it's not a skill you're born with. Masturbation is not an innate ability. It's a skill you learn, or perhaps are taught. Which was it with you, Greg?”
65
He slugged back the drink, his mind wandering. He'd not thought about it, but suddenly the memories were glaring, as if Reynolds had somehow flicked a switch in his mind.
Vivid images, and so embarrassing...
Struggling for the first, all-elusive ejaculation, trying to develop a technique but not even knowing how to hold himself. It brought a faint smile to his face.
“I don't remember.”
Reynolds looked unconvinced. “After Caroline, did you go out with girls younger than her?”
“About the same age, I suppose.”
“And as you grew up, did the age of your girlfriends rise accordingly?”
“More or less.”
“Did you have any serious relationships before you met Elizabeth?”
“Not really. Just the usual teenage liaisons. I met Elizabeth at college. I had an accountancy job lined up. A friend of my father's. Elizabeth was studying languages. French, German and Spanish. She wanted to work in Europe. She got much better grades than I did. She could have done anything she wanted.”
“Obviously she fell pregnant at some stage.”
He smiled. “The Dynamite Twins.”
“We'll come back to them shortly. When would you say you first realized you had an attraction to younger girls? To prepubescent children, I mean, not teenagers. Your responses on the questionnaire were a little evasive.”
Randall pondered the question briefly. “I honestly don't know. I've been thinking about that for a while, trying to get things into perspective. It didn't just happen overnight, but... But they get younger with time.”
“Explain that to me, Greg.”
“I've never stopped liking older girls... A girl's a girl. I can't remember a time when I didn't find myself attracted to a sixteen or seventeen year old. I mean, they're adults at that age anyway. Physically, I mean. But younger girls... Children… That developed slowly.”
Reynolds nodded her encouragement.
“I definitely wasn't interested in young girls when I was at college. There was sort of a division, between school and college. You know how it is. Never the twain shall meet. Lots of my mates had little sisters, but I never gave them a second thought back then. They were just annoying little kids. You know, they used to climb all over you in their little dresses, showing their panties, and it meant absolutely nothing to me. Nowadays I’d love...”
He realized what he was saying. “Anyway, I met Elizabeth and we got married.”
“So you've only been attracted to really young girls since you met Elizabeth?”
He considered the statement carefully before answering, unsure where she was leading. “I don't see a connection, but yes.”
“Connections come later, Greg. First I need to know when the attraction to children stems from, then I can look at why, and from there how to develop a therapeutic approach that will help you deal with it.”
“Sure. You're the shrink.”
“It's not psychiatry, Greg. I'm a psychotherapist, not a psychiatrist. Didn't I explain the difference to you last time?”
“Sort of. I didn't take it all in.”
“Apart from your own daughters, do you have much contact with other children?”
“Not really. Well, the Twins have friends round sometimes. But generally no. Not anymore.”
“Your daughters' friends. Are they girls or boys?”
“Mostly girls. But that’s their choice, not mine.”
“The twins are six, aren't they?”
“They'll be seven after Christmas.”
“You said last time that your attraction was to older girls.”
“About nine, ten, that sort of age.”
“Why not six?”
Randall searched her eyes but saw no response. He felt uncomfortable. “I don't see the Twins in that way. I told you that last time.”
“Greg, I believe you. Honestly. But I need to ask. What about your daughters’ friends?”
“What about them?”
“It must be nice for you to have a house full of little girls.”
Randall shrugged. “I hadn't thought about it.”
Reynolds put her cup down and held his gaze. “Greg, I can't help if you're not honest with me. You must understand that. Have your daughters' friends ever stayed over?”
He remembered it now. The passing reference in the questionnaire.
66
It had been easier then, just writing it down, with no-one firing questions back. He tried to remember what he'd written. “There was one occasion.”
Reynolds nodded. “Go on.”
“The Twins had their friends round. A sleep-over. It was a school break or something. Elizabeth was at work, so I had to look after the four of them during the evening.”
“You were alone with four little girls?”
He glared at her. “Nothing happened.”
Reynolds looked defensive. “Did I suggest otherwise?”
“Well, they had their baths and - “
“All of them? You bathed your daughters' friends too?”
Randall squirmed. It had all been so innocent at the time. “I... The Twins... It was their bath night. Their friends asked if they could join them. That was all.”
“And you agreed?”
“What else could I do?”
“You could have said no.”
“Dr Reynolds, all I did was put them in the bath. I told their mother the next day and she was quite happy about it.”
“Mothers are like that, Greg. Motherhood does something to a woman. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“In the questionnaire you said that - “
“Alright, yes, but I didn't touch them or anything.”
“I’m listening.”
“After they'd had their baths I sat them down in front of a video and had a bath myself. Just a bath. On my own. I didn't jerk off over seeing them naked.”
“Did I suggest you did?”
“You were thinking it.”
“So what did happen, Greg?”
“Nothing. I put my robe on and joined them. We had a drink. Hot cocoa, I mean. A light supper. We were watching a DVD. Some Disney film or other. Dumbo, I think. Then I realized they were giggling. The girls. I looked down and found my robe had come open. It was totally unintentional, but they saw everything. I covered up immediately. I mean, I didn't want them going around saying I was flashing at them.”
“And were you?”
“No! It was an accident.”
“But it felt nice, didn't it, Greg? That's what you said in the questionnaire.”
He cursed the questionnaire beneath his breath. “I don't remember now.”
“But you'd exposed yourself as a child too, Greg, remember? At school? You said that one day in the playground you -”
That fucking questionnaire! “I was just a kid. I don't want to talk about that now.”
“Okay, let's come back to your daughters' friends. How old were they?”
“Six, the same as the Twins.”
“Did you find them attractive?”
“No. Cute, maybe, but not a sexual thing.”
“But you like looking at older girls. Eight and nine year olds. Tens.”
“I’ve already said that.”
“Let's talk about the hole in the changing cubicle. Which swimming pool was that at?”
He took deep breaths, angry that he'd committed so much to paper. Much more than he remembered.
What else had he admitted to? If he'd known this woman was going to read it and not Dr Quinlan he would have been more circumspect.
“It's nothing. Just a communal changing room. There was a hole in the wall.”
“Ah yes, the ever-so-convenient hole. The hole looking into the next cubicle, where children were changing.”
“Yeah. Some pervert had drilled it there.”
“Some pervert, Greg?”
Randall's face reddened. “It wasn't me!”
67
“Do you take your daughters swimming often?”
“It's important that they learn, yes.”
“And you go to this same pool, where the hole is?”
“Not always. It's quite a way.”
“But sometimes.”
“Yes.”
“Just to watch... Women? Girls?”
He hesitated. “Girls.”
“Girls like your daughters?”
“Older.”
“You don't find six year olds a turn on?”
“I've told you, no. How many more times.”
“But at nine or ten it becomes a sexual thing.”
He clutched the can in frustration. “It's not as straight-forward as that. It's not like, you know, they reach their ninth birthday and suddenly I find them sexy. I think it's to do with body changes. I don't mean puberty. Before that. You can see it just by looking at them. The way they carry themselves. The way they move. There's as much difference between a six year old and a nine year old as there is between a child of six and sixteen.”
“And it's this change that attracts you? That you find sexually appealing?”
“Something like that.”
“And you fantasize about girls that age?”
He hesitated. “Masturbating, you mean?”
“If you like, yes.”
“At first it was just looking. But yes, now sometimes. Over the last few years.” He couldn't believe he was admitting all this. After just one beer. He squashed the can in his hand.
Reynolds immediately replaced it with another. She reached down to retrieve a lap-top which she placed on the coffee table. He took the opportunity to light a further cigarette.
“How would you describe your childhood, Greg?”
He hesitated. “I told you last time, my father did not abuse me.”
“I don't want to know about your father this time. Just about your childhood. Was it pleasant? Do you have fond memories? Or are your early years a blank?”
“It was okay.”
“Remember, Greg, honesty is of paramount importance here. Think back, to your early childhood. That's it, take your time. Think right back. What are the memories that stand out?”
“What do you want, my life story?”
“Of course not. Just to understand where your interest in little girls stems from. Did you say you had brothers and sisters?”
“A sister.”
“Younger or older than you?”
“Younger.”
“What's her name?”
“I don't see that that's relevant.”
Reynolds ignored him. “Your parents divorced. Why was that?”
“I don't want to talk about them. They're family. I don't want my family being dragged into this.”
“The less I know the more chance there is of misjudging the extent of your problem.”
“I'll risk it. You know about my wife, my daughters. That's enough.”
“Did you have lots of friends as a child?”
“You know, the usual.”
“What's the usual?”
“I made friends at school, where I lived, that kind of thing. When we moved I made new friends. I didn't keep a head count, for Christ's sake.”
“Greg, there's no need to get agitated. They're quite innocent questions. I'm not trying to catch you out or anything. Just to understand.”
“I'm sorry.” He stopped himself. What was he apologizing to her for?
“What was your upbringing like? In terms of sexual awareness? Were your parents open about sexual matters, or was it something that was never discussed?”
“They didn't make love in front of me, if that's what you mean, but sure, it was pretty much out in the open. Sex, I mean. Nudity. That kind of thing. We were encouraged to take a healthy attitude towards our bodies, not to be ashamed of them. No-one ever locked the bathroom.”
“Did you bathe together?”
“Not with my parents, no. I mean, sure, we might have as babies, but not later. I remember sharing the bath with my sister, when we were small enough to both fit in at once, but that's all.”
“So you saw your sister naked?”
Randall gulped back the beer. “Yeah, when she was just a kid. When we bathed together. I didn't spy on her, for Christ's sake.”
“I didn't suggest you did, Greg. You're very touchy about this subject. Is there a reason for that?”
“No!”
“I think there is, Greg. I think you have a memory, an unpleasant memory, somewhere hidden away in your subconscious. Do you understand what I mean, Greg? I think you've suppressed your memories for some reason. That's why you can't relax when you respond to what are straight-forward questions.”
“That's ridiculous. And anyway, the questions aren't straight-forward. You're trying to make me admit to something that didn't happen.”
Reynolds pleaded with a sincerity that was almost convincing. “Greg, that's not so, please. I'm just trying to be objective. For some reason you are attracted to young girls. You came here to seek help. But as I've said already, any help we can offer depends on your honesty in answering our questions.”
For the second time he found himself apologizing. But at least it was a conscious lie this time. For the sake of the Dynamite Twins he had have to go through with this.
“As a child you had some unusual fantasies. Can you tell me about them.”
“I don't remember.”
“Really?”
The bitch. She knew.
That bloody questionnaire.
68
Dr Quinlan had said it was for his eyes only. Not this woman's. He thought of the Twins. For their sake, he had to be sure. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to peer into the dark recesses of his mind.
He was nine years old, running through a corn field, just wearing a t-shirt and sandals The brush of the wheat ears against his prepubescent genitals. He jolted upright, shaken, his eyes open.
Reynolds waited patiently, staring at him. “Greg?”
“Ask away.”
“In the questionnaire you alluded to being tied, naked, to a tree, was it?”
He squirmed with embarrassment. Had he really said that? “There is something, yes, but it's so faded. So distant...”
“How convenient. This isn’t helping. Have you ever been hypnotized?”
“No.”
“Would you have any objections to being hypnotized?”
“No way.” He wasn't really sure what it involved, but guessed it would mean baring his soul, his darkest secrets, his innermost feelings, to this woman. He'd never be able to look her in the eye again.
He thought of the Dynamite Twins. Natalie and Tamara.
He thought of the dead child, Rebecca.
Of the news of the two new victims.
He thought of the Twins again. “Do whatever is necessary.”
“We'll try it next session. Don't worry. It won't cost you anything. It will be the final stage of the free assessment, after which Dr Quinlan will meet you personally to explain our findings and talk about fees.”
“We’re finished?”
“Almost. Before you go I'd just like you to have a look at these.” She pushed the lap-top towards him. “How did you react when you heard that another two girls had been killed?”
“Sick. Absolutely sick. And frightened. I can understand touching, I think. I can see how it might happen. If someone felt like I do but couldn't control it. But to kill a child?” He shuddered
. “Dr Reynolds, tell me I'll never be capable of doing something like that, please. Just tell me I won't.”
“I'm sorry, Greg, I can't promise that. Not yet. Not until I know more about you. That's why these interviews are so important. Why you have to be totally honest with me, no matter how uncomfortable you feel.”
He fell silent, staring at the computer. “What's this for?”
“I want you to look at some images, and tell me which appeal to you.” She flicked a key and the screen illuminated, commencing a slide show of colorful photographs. The first dozen or so were of adult female models on the cat-walk, straight from a fashion show. He cast an indifferent eye over them. “What do you want me to say?”
“Just browse through. If you find a picture that stimulates you in any way, just point it out. That's all. There's no catch. But please be honest.”
“Sure. These are... nice, I guess.”
“Nice to look at as in scenery, or nice as in appealing sexually.”
“Both.”
“Fine. Go on.”
The images changed. The women were topless, then naked. Standard modeling poses. “They're okay. I don't dislike them. A bit dull, though. Boring.”
He came to pictures of men, first clothed, then unclothed. “I told you, I'm not a queer.”
Reynolds managed an amused laugh. “You're not very politically correct, either.”
Back to women. The poses were more explicit now. Men and women. What he regarded as hard core.
“How do you feel about those, Greg?”
The beer was in his blood now. He opened a third can. “Worth a quick tug, I guess.”
“Sexually stimulating, you mean?”
“They could be, yeah.” He studied the pages, by now oblivious to Reynolds' gaze.
Suddenly the adults were gone. Pictures of children. Boys and girls, playing. Clothed. He paused, wondering how he was supposed to react.
“They're... They're cute.”
“How about these?”
He hesitated. Children on a foreign beach. Naked children. “Where did you get these?”
“They're just naturist photographs. You know, nudist families. It's very common in Europe. They have a more relaxed attitude towards nudity than we do here. What are you feeling?”
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