by Mark Tilbury
‘From a past life?’
‘Yes.’
‘How about you? How are you coping?’
‘Not too good.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘It’s as if my whole world has been turned upside down.’
‘Who cares for the carers, eh?’
Mel thought his voice had a velvety texture to it. Soothing. ‘You could say that.’
‘It’s important you take some of the responsibility off your shoulders. You’re not built of stone.’
‘More like bloody glass.’
‘I want you to close your eyes now.’
Mel did.
‘Isn’t it wonderful to shut out the material world?’
‘Yes.’
‘To blank out all those distractions which constantly seek our attention?’
‘Wonderful.’
‘I’d like you to take deep even breaths. Then I want you to count slowly backwards from ten to zero. As you do so, cast your worries to the wind. Give them all back to the universe.’
Mel counted backwards while Westwood gazed out the window. Finished, he returned his attention to her. ‘Are you relaxed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is anything troubling you?’
‘No.’
‘I want your mind to stay open to everything I suggest.’
‘Okay.’
‘You can open your eyes now.’
Mel stared at Westwood, eyes wide.
‘How do you feel, Mel?’
‘Fine.’
‘You see that leather chair in the corner of the room?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to sit in it and stay there until I tell you to get up.’
Mel walked to the chair and sat down, her mind completely at peace for the first time since before Megan had died.
‘I’m going to have a little chat with Chloe in a minute.’
‘Okay.’
‘Are you happy for me to talk to her?’
‘Yes.’
‘You won’t remember anything about the conversation, apart from Chloe is a very healthy and happy little girl, and that she has no problems. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you go home, you will have no recollection of your visit here.’
‘Okay.’
‘No more needless stress and worry. Just a long and happy life.’
Mel smiled.
‘I’m going to get Chloe now. You remain seated and relaxed. ‘
‘Okay.’
‘I don’t want you to react to your daughter in any way.’
‘Okay.’
‘You must only respond to my voice if I address you directly, understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘You will remain this way until I instruct you otherwise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Thank you, Mel. You may go into a deep sleep now.’
Mel closed her eyes. Her jaw slackened. Her chin fell onto her chest.
Westwood waved a hand in front of her face. She didn’t react. He traced the outline of her lips with his index finger. Nothing. He reached out and touched her left breast.
Mel sighed.
Westwood straightened up, thrust his hands in his pockets, and walked back to the waiting room to fetch his latest subject.
26
Westwood told Olivia he was ready. Before they walked into the office, he crouched down in front of Chloe. ‘How’s the number one girl?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Now, listen carefully, Chloe. When we go into the office, Mummy will be sitting in a big leather chair. She’s just going to be with us while I talk to you, but it’s important that we don’t speak to her, okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good girl.’
Once seated behind the desk with Chloe sat opposite, he asked her if she was comfortable.
Chloe nodded, clutching Ruby to her chest.
‘Big chair for a big girl.’
Chloe giggled.
‘How old are you?’
‘Four.’
‘Wow! You’re a clever girl for that age. Bet you’re going to be famous when you grow up.’
‘Like Barbie?’
Westwood grinned. ‘Just like Barbie. How would you like to go on a journey with me?’
‘Where to?’
‘Back to when you were a baby.’
‘I don’t want to be a baby.’
‘We’re only visiting.’
‘Like when I go to Aunty Carla’s?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Okay.’
Westwood held up his right hand, palm facing Chloe. ‘Look at the pretty pattern on my hand. What do you see?’
‘It looks like Daddy’s dart board.’
‘Daddy has a dart board?’
‘He says it’s good for maths.’
‘Daddy sounds like a lot of fun.’
‘He is.’
‘Look at Daddy’s dartboard. Can you see the pretty swirling pattern?’
‘Yes.’
‘See how it’s like a tunnel if you look closely?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘The pattern will make your eyes sleepy in a minute. Don’t worry. Just close them when this happens.’
Within a few seconds, Chloe’s lids drooped, fluttered, came to rest.
‘It’s nice to close our eyes when we’re tired, isn’t it, Chloe?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to concentrate on the top of your head. The bit you scratch when you’ve got a problem.’
Chloe giggled.
‘Imagine a bright light coming down through the top of your head, going down into your body, right to the bottoms of your feet. The light will make you happy and peaceful. You won’t have a single care in the world.’
Chloe’s breathing slowed.
‘Your body is getting warmer. The warmth is spreading all the way through your body. Down your neck, into your chest, your arms, hands, tummy and legs.’
‘Nice,’ Chloe slurred.
‘We’re going to go into a beautiful garden in a moment. But first, I want you to let your mind go completely blank. You will hear nothing else until I tell you, Okay?’
Chloe nodded, head falling forward, hands resting limply on Ruby.
Westwood walked to the door keeping half an eye on his charge. ‘Olivia?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’d like you to fetch Mr. King. He’s in the storeroom.’
‘Okay.’
King peered around the door a few moments later. ‘Is it safe?’
‘Of course.’
He stepped into the room and regarded Mel as if she might be a bomb capable of detonating at any minute. ‘Is she still awake?’
‘She’s in a deep trance.’
King looked dubious. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘And the girl?’
‘Same. She’s prepped and ready to go into a deepening state. I’m on the verge of taking her back. Now, I want you to keep quiet whilst I settle her on the mother’s lap.’
‘Won’t the mother grow agitated if the girl experiences… difficulties?’
‘The mother is programmed to respond to me and me alone. Unless I ask her a direct question, she’ll be passive.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
Westwood lifted Chloe out of the chair and put her on her mother’s lap. Mel, oblivious to this action, wrapped her arms around her daughter’s waist by reflex.
King folded his tall frame into the empty chair. ‘And you’re sure neither of them will remember a thing?’
‘The mother will believe her daughter is healthy and not suffering any past-life recollection.’
‘And the child?’
‘That’s a different matter. Although I can program her to forget this meeting, I can’t wipe her memory banks clean. What she’s experienced in this life and beyond will have left an indelible mark. Rather like a computer hard drive. You ca
n delete your search history, but you can’t get rid of it altogether.’
‘Do you actually believe in all this past-life nonsense?’
Westwood picked up a pencil from the desk and sucked on the tip. ‘Yes, and no.’
‘Wonderful answer, Gavin. You ought to consider a career in politics.’
‘I’ve regressed enough people to believe there’s something to it. Dead lips don’t lie. I mean, how can you remember things in such vivid detail from many years ago, often centuries, without having experienced them? Most cases I’ve come across are just too elaborate to be fabricated. I once had a man babble in ancient Hebrew.’
‘He was probably Jewish.’
‘He was a dustman and an atheist. I had another who appeared to have lived in Elizabethan times.’
King’s interest was piqued. ‘Not related to Shakespeare by any chance?’
‘Not as I recall. Another died in a mining accident in 1886. The pit shaft collapsed and buried him alive, along with twenty other miners. It went some way to explaining his extreme fear of tunnels and lifts.’
‘But surely he could have read a book or watched a film depicting a mining disaster?’
‘His details were extraordinary. He had a vast knowledge of his life in a northern village. Considering the furthest north he’d ever ventured was Banbury, it was quite remarkable.’
‘He might have studied the mining disaster in history at school.’
‘Maybe,’ Westwood agreed. ‘Right, I want you to remain quiet once the regression gets underway. You can’t interrupt me. That’s vitally important.’
‘What if I want to ask a question?’
Westwood pulled a pad and pencil out of a drawer. ‘Write it down and show me.’
‘But I’m talking now. What’s the difference?’
‘Think of the child as an idling engine at the moment. But once the regression starts, it will the same as slipping her into gear and pressing the accelerator pedal. Her senses will be alert to any outside influences.’
‘Like a dream for you, eh, Gavin?’
‘What?’
‘Disturbed people coming to you with all their fears and phobias.’
‘I’d be lying if I said the job didn’t have its perks.’
King looked nervously around the office. ‘You’ve got no cameras running now, have you?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Why would I waste film on something that has all the appeal of a runny dog turd?’
‘What a dreadful turn of phrase. Shakespeare would spin in his grave if he could hear you.’
‘Then thank goodness he can’t. Right, any more questions before we begin?’
‘How long will this take?’
‘It depends on the detail and the depth of the regression.’ He walked to within a couple of feet of Mel and Chloe. ‘Right, let’s get this show on the road.’
27
‘Can you hear me, Chloe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you nice and warm?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to imagine you are standing at the top of ten large stone steps leading down into a beautiful garden.’
‘Okay.’
‘There’s a handrail to hold onto. Can you see it?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re going to walk down the steps now. I will count each step. As I do so, I want you to concentrate on my voice. Deeper and deeper down, until we reach the garden. Okay?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Hold the rail tightly. Ready?’
‘Yes.’
Westwood counted down from ten to one with a five second pause between each number. With each step, he told Chloe she was going into deeper and deeper levels of consciousness.
King caught his attention with the pad. On it, written in barely legible writing: How does she even understand that???
Westwood grabbed the pad and scrawled. Because I’m not talking to her four-year-old brain. I’m talking to a much deeper level of consciousness.
King snatched the pad back, seemed about to write something else, then put the pencil down.
Westwood returned his attention to the child. ‘Okay, Chloe. I want you to step into the garden. Can you see all the lovely flowers?’
‘Yes.’
‘All the pretty pinks, blues, yellows and reds?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is where God lives. This is where he answers prayers. We’re going to walk through the garden and sit by a lovely lake.’
‘Okay.’
Westwood walked her through the garden and sat her down at the edge of the lake. ‘Isn’t this the most wonderful water? So clear? So blue?’
‘Like my eyes.’
‘Just like your eyes. Can you see all the fish swimming in it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re safe here, Chloe. I won’t let any harm come to you. You see the bridge leading across the lake?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘In a minute, we will walk across it.’
‘Where to?’
‘A place where you used to live before you were born. But don’t worry, we can come back any time. Is that all right with you?’
‘I…’
‘It doesn’t matter for now. Let’s just enjoy the water for a while. Go for a paddle if you want. Would you like that?’
‘Yes.’
Westwood looked at King and put a thumb in the air. King returned the gesture with a look that spoke of sour taste.
After a few moments, Westwood spoke to Chloe again. ‘Is the water nice?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Chloe kicked her legs. Her feet hit against Mel’s shins, but her mother didn’t respond.
King held up the pad again. Can’t we just cut to the chase?
Westwood shook his head.
Chloe’s eyes darted left and right beneath the lids. ‘I don’t want to go across the bridge.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m scared.’
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here to protect you.’
‘But—’
‘God won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.’
King stared at Chloe, shaking his head. ‘I knew this was—’
Westwood rounded on him and shoved a finger against his lips so hard he jabbed a nostril. ‘Shush.’
King closed his mouth, but his eyes did their level best to carry on the conversation.
‘Chloe?’
‘Yes?’
‘I know this seems scary. But I’ll be right there with you.’
‘What about the Tall Man?’
Westwood hesitated. ‘Who?’
Chloe pushed herself back against Mel. ‘He’s… bad.’
Westwood ignored the pad King was waving at him. ‘Don’t worry about him. No one can hurt you. I control everything that happens in the garden. I won’t let anyone in. The Tall Man’s banned. And that’s a promise.’
‘What if he sneaks in?’
‘He won’t. God’s garden is protected by angels. They won’t let the Tall Man anywhere near us.’
Chloe seemed to settle a bit. ‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely. We’re all here to help you, Chloe. God, the angels, me. We all want what’s best for you.’
‘Okay.’
‘Get out of the water now. Stand in the warm sunshine and take my hand.’
‘Okay.’
‘And remember you are loved and protected at all times, okay?’
Chloe nodded.
‘Do you trust me, Chloe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. When you’re ready, we’ll walk over the bridge.’
‘I don’t like the trees. The Tall Man might be hiding.’
‘No one’s hiding. I told you, no one else is allowed here.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise. Take my hand. We’ll walk over the bridge together.’
Chloe’s eyes darted about behind their closed lids. ‘Okay.�
��
Westwood spoke about the sunshine, the clean fresh air, and how brave Chloe was as they crossed his imaginary bridge. Once over, he reassured Chloe that she was in no danger. She could let go of his hand.
‘I don’t like it here.’
‘That’s only because you’re afraid of the unknown. But you’ve nothing to fear, Chloe. You’re safe.’
‘Where am I?’
‘Just in another time. Another place. You see the path leading between the trees?’
Chloe nodded. ‘It’s like the one in Hansel and Gretel?’
‘Exactly. We’re going to walk along the path now, through the trees.’
‘I don’t want to.’
Westwood rolled his eyes and stroked his moustache. ‘How would you like to fly over them instead?’
‘I can’t fly.’
‘You can do anything you want to.’
‘I haven’t got wings.’
‘Don’t need them. You’ve got an imagination.’
‘How will that make me fly?’
‘Just close your eyes. I’ll count to five, and then we’ll take off.’
‘Like Dumbo?’
‘Exactly. Only smaller ears!’
Chloe giggled. ‘Okay.’
‘Ready?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Westwood counted, reassuring Chloe once more that she was safe.
After several moments, Chloe gasped. ‘I can see the tops of the trees.’
‘Do you like flying?’
‘Yeah. It’s cool.’
‘In a minute, we’re going to land in a big field. It might make your tummy go funny as we come down, so hold on tight to my hand.’
‘Okay.’
‘As we come down, I want you to go back in time. Right back to before you were born, okay?’
After several seconds, Chloe jolted in her mother’s lap, as if she’d just landed there in the midst of a dream.
Westwood waited a while before speaking again. When he did, his voice was soft and soothing. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
‘No.’
‘You can go back anytime you want.’
‘Okay.’
‘But it’s important we stay for a while.’
‘Why?’
‘To find out who you are. Look at your feet. What are you wearing?’
‘Nike trainers.’
‘Nice!’
‘Not really. They’re too tight. Mum says if I want another pair, she’ll get some off the market. Reckons money doesn’t grow on trees. I never said it did! She only buys me good stuff when I do what I’m told.’