by Adrian Laing
“Helen, I’m really glad you mentioned that one. As soon as I opened my big mouth I felt I was out of order. I’ve got a lot to learn for sure, I accept that one hundred per cent. I’m willing to learn, and I’d love to teach; point taken, Helen.”
Helen smiled at Huck and gave a slight nod of her head to signal it was time for him to leave the unholy Trinity alone to discuss.
***
“Listen Aaron, I promised myself I’d never ever be put through any shit like this, so I just want to get that straight from the start, just so you know where I stand. And by the way I’ve three pairs of tights on under these very tight jeans, and right on the inside – where it matters – is a thick wedge of layers of cotton wool which I call my ‘Fannie pad’, so any fumbling won’t be worth the hassle, you know what I mean?”
Aaron Westernson stared at Mandy Haddock as if he was looking at an alien from outer space. He had dealt with tougher; they were always the most rewarding.
“What do you think this session is all about, Mandy?”
“I think it’s about you, for a start. I heard from Annie, I mean Fannie – hell what was her real name – that’s it – Aspasia. Nice one, Aaron.”
Aaron studied Mandy’s pretty but hardened features for some time.
“And what’s your name. I mean your real name?”
“OK, here we go. My real name is Matilda Haddock. I never liked the name Matilda. We did Roald Dahl at primary school; it wasn’t fun for me. One of my friends used to call me Mandy and it sort of stuck. I liked it, so I always told people my name was Mandy. When I got to senior school everyone knew me as Mandy, so that was OK.”
“You’re a well-known actress, Mandy. Tell me who you’re playing, right now.” Aaron looked deadly serious but Mandy wasn’t sure how much Aaron was holding back.
Mandy smiled in a relaxed, off-guard manner forgetting for a moment how much she actually enjoyed talking about her work, and besides she was beginning to trust Aaron Westernson.
“Mandy, can you see that lever on the side of your chair? If you pull it up the footrest will pull out and the back of the chair moves to a more comfortable position.”
Mandy pulled the lever and the chair smoothly changed shape into more of a lounging position.
“Is that better, Mandy?”
Mandy leaned back and heaved a very heavy sigh. “That feels a lot better, Aaron it does, really. Now, where were we? Oh, yes I play Sharon, Sharon Beecham; she’s kind of like me, this Sharon.”
“OK, Matilda – it’s important I call you by your real name, the name you were born to, otherwise we might get a bit confused. Is that OK? Now please try and relax, I’m sure you’ve been taught how to do that. It’s all about breathing, isn’t it? Now breathe in and out, slowly, consciously, and close your eyes.”
Mandy closed her eyes and didn’t notice the subtle dimming of the lights as Aaron continued to talk.
“Matilda, that’s a beautiful name. Maybe one day you’ll decide to return to Matilda. You see, once you decide to be called by another name then it’s easy to forget who you are. Sometimes you’re neither Matilda nor Mandy, you’re Sharon Beecham. It must be very confusing for you, Matilda.”
Mandy talked as if she was half asleep; there was something so peaceful and reassuring about Aaron’s voice.
“Oh, it’s OK, I mean they’re the same really, so there’s no confusion. We’re just the same.”
Aaron, unusually for him, was worried this was just too easy. “Really, just the same? But one is real and one is a fictional character – not real at all.”
“No, you don’t understand, they’re both real. Actually, Sharon is more real. Nobody knows Mandy Haddock, nobody, really. Millions of people know Sharon, millions and millions, they make her real. You know, like God, and magic, and stuff like that. Like me, really.”
Aaron paused for some time while Mandy seemed to fall into a deep but semi-conscious sleep.
“Listen to me, listen very carefully. Sharon is not real; Sharon is a character in a television programme, nothing more. Matilda you decided a long time ago to forget about, you’ve made her nonexistent. Mandy is a pet name given to you by a friend when you were a little girl. What I want you to do is to let your mind drift, drift way, way back, back before Sharon, before Mandy, before Matilda – you’ll find your true self, believe me.”
Aaron let Mandy drift even further off into what felt to her like a deep sleep and looked at his watch and scratched his head.
“Does Joan of Arc ring any bells, Mandy?” Aaron Westernson knew how to hit the spot.
***
Cheryl Smith and Betty sat upright on their single beds settling in ready to watch a film together. David had always thought the idea of ‘Movie Night’ to be a fine example of Helen’s concept of The Place as ‘a work of art in economic form’; it involved no real expenditure and kept the guests occupied for a couple of hours. It also provided an opportunity for the guests to watch a film with specific instructions to learn from the experience.
David and Helen had thought carefully as to which guests should pair up with whom. Each of the six twin rooms in The Place had a state of the art, high-definition, plasma television, and every screen was controlled by the unholy Trinity, from the security of David’s office.
Helen had come to understand that for the ‘Movie Night’ to be effective, it was important that the experience be discussed soon afterwards, preferably early the next morning over breakfast. This provided a subtle forum for what was always an intense group therapy session and the guests inevitably debated whether any real, lasting emotional impact had been made as a result of watching the film, or not. The choice of the film was to Helen an art.
Betty and Cheryl had been instructed to watch a film of the choosing of The Place. Betty was quite certain they’d had chosen Shallow Hal because it was the only feel good film she could bring to mind that would feel relevant to her and Cheryl, and would keep quiet two emotionally drained guests who were suffering from real withdrawal symptoms for too many reasons to think about.
The television came on automatically at precisely 8 p.m. The film was preceded by a very smart-looking Helen talking straight to the camera.
“Good evening, Betty and Cheryl. It’s a special treat tonight. You’re going to watch a movie which we have decided is just right for you two. Tomorrow morning we can discuss whether you got anything out of it and whether you thought it was a good choice. But please do sit back and enjoy.”
“Bet it’s Shallow Hal, Cheryl.”
“I reckon it’s going to be… a Santa Clause movie – that’s about the only time the fat one is portrayed as the good guy and not a loser.”
Betty and Cheryl waited patiently for the film to start, and it did.
“They’re havin’ a laugh, Betty. ‘Walt Disney Presents… Dumbo!’ Dumbo? Do you think they’ve pressed the wrong button or something? Bastards.”
Betty seemed quite pleased with the choice. “I love Dumbo, Cheryl. I haven’t seen it for years. Could have been worse.”
“Could have been worse? Worse than Dumbo? Like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Sound of Music?” Cheryl was clearly disappointed but quickly realised that she had no choice and it was Dumbo or nothing at all.
As the opening credits began to roll, Cheryl was silenced by the familiar music and settled back out of curiosity, not sure whether she had actually watched the entire film. Cheryl took a deep breath and thought it a good moment to get feedback from Betty about the events earlier in the day.
“I guess it makes sense to put us together, Betty.”
“Have you ever watched Dumbo? I mean really watched it? It’s a great film, Cheryl, you know for people like us.”
“Like us?” Cheryl sneered.
“Yeah, big elephants like us.” Betty laughed out loud but a discrete knock on the door instantly sile
nced her.
“It’s OK, it’s just David. I’ve got something for you.”
Betty moved from her bed as quickly to the door as she could. David was holding four small boxes of what looked like exquisite chocolates, the very expensive individually-wrapped-in-shiny-paper types which made chocolate hobnobs look like stale, crusty droppings of a small wild animal with serious health issues.
David quickly explained that the challenge was for Cheryl and Betty to watch the film from beginning to end without taking one nibble, however small, of any one of the chocolates. All they had to do was to wait until the film was over, then they could eat all they wanted. David left the boxes in Betty’s hands and made a quick exit.
“Cruel bastards, don’t you think, Betty? I mean it would be like leaving a paid-for hooker in Toni’s room with the instructions ‘don’t open till Christmas’.”
Betty looked longingly at the enticing package of up-market chocolates. “Perhaps we should put them away somewhere, just to help us resist temptation. You know we only have to wait until the film is over.”
“What, like under your bed? Or maybe under your pillow, Betty?”
“Under my bed is a good idea, Cheryl.”
“Or under my bed, Betty.”
Betty and Cheryl looked at each other mischievously. “What about half under your bed, and the other half under mine, Cheryl?”
“Well, you can’t say fairer than that, Betty – OK you choose which two you want to hide, and then we can settle down to the film. Oh look; the storks – I remember this bit, it’s great. Do you mind if we turn the lights off?”
Cheryl pretended to watch the film while she took out her state-of-the-art tablet device and started to find out what she could about The Place and her fellow inmates. The chocolates would help her concentration, she reckoned.
***
“Hope you don’t mind me sharing with you Davy, I guess they know what they’re doing,” said Huck staring at the television waiting for the film to begin.
“Hell, I’m cool, Huck. You ain’t going to give me no trouble, I can tell that. I mean you’re a fighter, a dog – you know what I mean? I like that Toni guy but I guess he could swing both ways, depending on what’s cooking. I’m OK with you, tough guy. What’s this movie therapy shit? I mean we watch a movie and that cures us. I’m already cured, Huck, I’m as cured as a big chunk of meat. Is there any way we can choose what we want or do we have to watch what they decide is good for us? I know what’s good for me. Maybe they’ll put on the ‘hot young babes channel’. I bet they’ve got a hot channel, don’t you Huck? Maybe we should check out Toni, I bet they’ve given him like Deep Throat with Herpes or something.”
The television came to life and there was Helen, looking at Davy and Huck.
“Good evening Davy and Huck. We’ve chosen a film for the two of you to watch, together. Tomorrow morning we can discuss whether you got anything out of it and whether you thought it was a good choice. But please do sit back and enjoy.”
“Oh man, give me some loving…” Davy knew what he wanted to see, which was anything involving naked ladies.
“I’d be happy with Seven Samurai,” said Huck.
“You mean Seven Dogs for Seven Bitches – you ever seen that one brother? I mean like class.”
Both Davy and Huck stared in disbelief as the credits rolled.
“What’s this? ‘A Walt Disney Production… Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.’”
“Hey brother I was close,” said Huck giving a good imitation of Davy Crockett.
Davy jumped up and started ranting wildly at the television. “Oh man. Snow White, no, no this is shit man, shit.” Davy’s growing rants were interrupted by a firm knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” insisted Huck, asserting his physical authority.
JC stood at the door with a big grin, holding a six-pack of very low alcohol beers, but the gesture was enough. “They’re for both of you, but only to be opened after the film, is that fair enough?”
Davy looked at the film as it began its journey and looked at the beers.
“Shit, man. That’s a tough deal,” said Davy.
“But we’ll take it, thanks,” said Huck, in case JC decided to change his mind.
No sooner had JC shut the door than Davy pulled out a joint and lit up.
Huck looked over to Davy. “Are you sure you should be doing that? I thought the rule was that you could only smoke in the patio area. And that smells like wacky-backy to me, brother. Do you think that’s cool?”
Davy took a long drag on the reefer. “Listen brother, this joint was given to me by them. They took away my stash and even rolled these joints for me. Can you believe it? I mean, like that’s cool?”
Huck was a bit confused but decided to let it go. “You’re a grown man, Davy, it’s your choice.”
“That’s right, brother. It’s my choice. You wanna blow?”
“I’m OK, Davy. On yer own.”
***
“Well, this is nice, I must say.” Helen looked around, obviously very pleased with herself. The Encounter Area was set up to imitate a five star breakfast area with the emphasis on abundance.
Sitting around the carefully laid breakfast table was Toni, Betty, Cheryl, Mandy, Huck, Davy, David and Helen, who was clearly in charge of everything.
“Now, before you gorge yourselves with all this wonderful food, there is one little catch.” Helen smiled and looked around the worried faces.
“Everything you eat or drink this morning has a value. By value I mean a distance, in metres.”
The group still looked slightly confused.
“OK, I’ll spell it out. Everything on the counter over there has a pile of casino chips in a bowl beside each food item. Each different coloured chip represents a number which is displayed on the bowl. A little mini chocolate croissant will cost you a chip which is valued at fifty. That means fifty metres. Next to the cereal is the number twenty; that means twenty metres for each bowl. Now for the little pots of jam and honey there’s another number – seventy-five – if I recall, and so on. The cooked food is very expensive, I warn you. Every sausage is worth one hundred points, every slice of bacon another one hundred points. The black pudding is two hundred metres a slice. You’ll notice the fresh fruit is quite cheap – twenty for a satsuma, the same for a slice of melon. Every time you take something to eat you must collect a chip and place it next to your cutlery. At the end of this little feast, we’ll have counted up your total score and then, later this morning, we’ll all be going for a little jog over Hampstead Heath and you will complete a course of a length in metres equal to the number of points you’ve accumulated. There will be nothing more to eat until that distance has been covered, on your knees if that’s how you want to do it. Does that all make sense? OK, have everything and anything you want, anything. Of course if you’d rather not have anything to eat, that’s OK. The only thing that has no chips is the water; otherwise it’s chips with everything.”
Everyone looked at the array of food spread over the long self-serving area and collectively sighed, apart from Huck, who was straight in amongst the priciest items without a moment’s hesitation.
“This is fantastic, now that’s what I call a win-win. Love this game, love it.” And with obvious abandon Huck stacked his plate high, collected his chips and sat down a happy man. “I’ll add it up later – I hope it comes in at thousands and thousands – I’ll happily jog round the Heath all day. Great idea, Helen, love it, thanks.”
Slowly each guest approached the counter area and weighed up the odds. Betty and Mandy took their time thinking through the consequences of having what they wanted, which if truth be told was everything, in no particular order.
After some time, everyone settled down and Helen clinked her little china cup which was filled with a small amount of lemon tea, to bring the sess
ion to order.
“Now, I want to talk about last night.” Helen deliberately stared at Davy who immediately lowered his head, like a naughty school boy.
“Last night was ‘Movie Night’, we don’t call it ‘Movie Therapy’ because whether it was therapeutic or not was up to you. Same with the books we give you to read. Toni, tell us about last night.”
“Er, David brought around a big pizza and we watched West Side Story. I had forgotten what a great film it is, I mean the dancing, choreography, singing – it was brilliant.” Toni sort of dried up as if he was expected to come out with something profound but couldn’t find the words. Toni looked around and realised that he wasn’t going to get away with such a brief resume, so he continued.
“OK, I get the vibes. Was it therapeutic? Er, I don’t know. I mean I don’t know what therapeutic really means to be honest. I’m here for a specific reason, can’t say West Side Story helped with that one.”
Helen didn’t look surprised or disappointed but simply smiled at Toni. “That’s a good start, Toni. You see the point is that your response was honest, not… contrived or…”
“You didn’t get it,” interrupted Betty who in all fairness was on edge. “West Side Story is a love story, you know, based on Romeo and Juliet. I guess the point was that the story is a lesson in unconditional love, true love. That’s why you didn’t get it, Toni.”
Toni continued slowly cutting up his one bacon and one sausage as if the conversation was all flying over his head.
“Better than Dumbo, though. I would have swopped West Side Story for that one, I can tell you.” Cheryl was still upset at the choice of movie, but Betty was having none of it.
“Oh, Cheryl, you’re being a bit unfair. I saw a tear in your eye when ‘Baby of Mine’ came on, admit it, that got you, didn’t it?”