by Adrian Laing
“I’ll explain as we’re walking around. In fact, Sean our first ‘session’ is going to be a long walk around Hampstead Heath. There are so many celebs strolling around this time in the morning no one will bat an eye, I promise.” JC placed his arm around Sean’s small shoulders as they left David’s office.
“He’s coming along mighty fine, don’t you think Helen?” David was obviously very proud of his son.
“He sure is, David. He’s a natural. The idea of a long walk around the Heath was inspired. OK, next up is Sarah-Jane, looks like we’ll do her screening on our own, David.”
“Now, David, while we’re waiting for Sarah-Jane, let’s have a little chat about Mandy. She’s nearly ready to leave, don’t you think?”
***
Despite the number of times David had been through the experience, every time his mobile buzzed indicating the arrival of a new guest, his heart seemed to miss a beat with excitement. Perhaps it was because so much could go wrong. Or perhaps it was just the nervous excitement of it all.
This time there was no knock on the door; Sarah-Jane McQueen just breezed in. The contrast with Sean’s entrance was quite marked.
“Hi, you all. God this place is so cool. I’ve heard all about it, I can’t wait.” Sarah-Jane McQueen was not quite what David and Helen were expecting. Sarah-Jane was, according to her dad, twenty-nine, but she looked older, not that much older but you wouldn’t guess the attractive young lady was in her twenties.
“Sit down Sarah-Jane on the sofa. Do you want anything? I’m Helen by the way and this is David. You’ll have heard of us, I guess.”
“I’m OK, thanks. I’ve heard all about you, and David. Where’s JC? I can’t wait to meet JC.” Sarah-Jane was disarmingly bright and breezy; there was a confidence about her which Helen knew was superficial. Sarah-Jane epitomised a phrase Helen had once heard which described Americans as ‘deeply shallow’, an impression reinforced by Sarah-Jane’s 1950’s style of dress’
Helen knew it was an unfair judgment to make, but it was Helen’s first impression and Helen was pretty good with first impressions.
“Tell me Sarah-Jane, I’m just curious, but what is your expectation of The Place? I mean what are you hoping to get out of this experience?”
Sarah-Jane looked all primed up and ready to roll, as if she couldn’t wait.
“Well, I’ve been to a few rehab places in LA and to tell you the truth they’re all much the same. My theory is that the weather’s to blame. Always the same, always perfect. It’s as if nothing changes. This is the first time I’ve been outside the States, you know. I’ve been doing some research on this place, I mean England, and you seem to get like all four seasons in one day. That’s what everyone tells me.”
As if to emphasise Sarah-Jane’s point there was a loud crack of thunder.
“Wow, thunder – and lightning – in the middle of spring. That means it’ll be sunny and warm later. I love this place already. Do you get rainbows over here?” Sarah-Jane was already beside herself with excitement.
Helen had already made her mind up about Sarah-Jane McQueen. “You know you’re absolutely right Sarah-Jane, that’s very observant of you. The Place is like just like weather – you know – as you say, you can have all four seasons in just one day. We do get rainbows, Sarah-Jane, but not every day, only when it’s sunny and rainy at the same time.”
Helen looked over at David, discreetly. “I’ll show you around Sarah-Jane. I’ll talk you through your schedule a bit later. You can either have a room of your own or share with one of our other guests – if that’s what they want. Any preferences?”
Sarah-Jane looked up and had a think as if she was being asked to choose between two different coloured pairs of shoes. To Helen and David it looked as if she wanted to have both, but couldn’t.
“That’s tricky, Helen. I’ll tell you what. How about I spend tonight on my own, get to know the other guests and then see how we all feel tomorrow.”
“That’s a very wise approach, Sarah-Jane. I’m impressed. Now we need to go through some boring paperwork and then I can settle you in. We’ve a session later which I know you’ll enjoy.”
Sarah-Jane clapped her hands together like an excited cheerleader. “Oh, I can’t wait, sounds perfect, Helen.”
25
“OK, Gootsy, we need to talk through what you have in mind for this evening.” David, at JC’s request, had insisted that Gootsy shared some detail about his next session.
“You know, Gootsy, that we’ve great admiration for your work, it’s always different and often quite spectacular.”
“But,” said Gootsy, defensively.
David continued. “But, this time we’re not sure whether it’s going to be too heavy for all our guests, in particular Sean Beanie. Sean’s a seventeen year old, and a very fragile one at that, which is why he’s here.”
David was being a bit too diplomatic for JC. “Gootsy, dad is absolutely right about this. I’m a great admirer of your work but sometimes I wonder if we – well you – might try and think more of what the guests might specifically benefit from, rather than – you know – put them through a session because it works for you. Don’t take what I’m saying as a criticism Gootsy, please.”
Gootsy sat back on the sofa looking a bit concerned. “And you, Helen? What do you think?”
Helen took her time as if to emphasise the delicacy of the situation. “The real point Gootsy is that what you do is very effective, but there’s a risk it might be too effective. There was that time with Mandy when I thought she had retreated into what some might call a catatonic stupor. Mandy had the strength to pull herself out of that one – with some skilful intervention from Metti I should add – but it was close and in some ways we were lucky. I don’t think Sean would cope with that type of extreme encounter. Sean needs to have his confidence built up, in stages.”
Gootsy stroked his chin, deep in thought.
“Let me think about this boy Sean. JC you’re very wise, for your age. Yes, I see the problem. I have always said that my work involves complete trust. That trust needs to be put to the test, I think.”
David, JC and Helen looked at each other not entirely convinced but the air had been cleared and it was obvious that a decision had to be made. David was tempted to suggest that the easy solution was simply for Sean not to take part in any Gootsy session but he felt that option was simply a cop out.
“OK, Gootsy. We trust you. Perhaps JC can talk to you a bit more about Sean’s background and give you some further insight into what his problems are. Is that OK?”
“Sure, Helen, that’s OK.” Gootsy smiled. “I will talk with JC about the boy. Perhaps it’s best if JC joins in the encounter?”
***
“Good evening, good evening, good evening one and all.” Gootsy seemed particularly excited as he addressed young Sean, Sarah-Jane, Davy, Mandy, Mark and JC. The Encounter Area seemed unusually bare, devoid of any props apart from an exercise mat in the centre of the room, a couple of benches against one of the walls, and a small holdall at Gootsy’s feet.
“I’m thrilled to have you all here and we should make a special welcome to JC who will also be participating today. Now, JC, does everyone know each other or are some introductions in order?”
JC looked slightly embarrassed as he didn’t really know the answer to that one, and decided to play safe. “Perhaps everyone should say hello to each other and introduce themselves anyway Gootsy.”
“Yes, yes, quite, thank you,” said Gootsy as each guest awkwardly shook hands, embraced and said hello. Even Davy and Mark went through an exaggerated exchange as if they’d never met, just for the fun of it.
JC was keeping a close eye on Sean who showed no sign of recognising any of the other guests, not even Mandy, which was of some comfort to JC.
“Now,” said Gootsy with a gleam in his eye. “Today is
a special day. A very special day. There are two benches over there, please bring them to the centre of the room and place them on either side of the mat.”
Gootsy watched closely as Davy and Mark immediately paired up and took one end each of a bench whilst JC and Sean brought over the other.
“Very good, thank you.” Gootsy slightly rearranged the benches so they were exactly in the centre of the room and parallel to each other. The group watched transfixed as Gootsy placed the benches at what seemed a very precise distance apart until eventually he was clearly satisfied that the positioning was exactly right.
Gootsy reached into his holdall and took out the remote control, pushed a couple of buttons and the room darkened causing Mandy to mutter a touch too loudly, “oh shit, here we go again.”
“Oh, no Mandy. Not ‘here we go again’. I never ‘go again’; it would not be possible to do the same thing twice.” Gootsy sounded a bit put out, as if someone had criticised his art.
“Now, let’s sit down. But before we do so, I need a volunteer.” Gootsy looked at Mark who felt complimented at the signal.
“OK, Mr Gootsy. Mark Bolland at your service, sir. How can I be of assistance?”
“You are a star, Mr Bolland, thank you.” Gootsy smiled as if they were old friends. “All I want you to do is lie down and die. Right there on the mat. Please just lie down as if you are dead, no more, gone. You have the easy part to play. You are the dead man.”
Mark Bolland looked slightly taken aback but shrugged his shoulders, lay down on the mat, as still as he could make himself, and closed his eyes not noticing the lights dimming again.
The group silently took their seats on the bench, Gootsy, Sean and Sarah-Jane on one side of the mat on which Mark was laid out and Davy, JC and Mandy on the other.
Gootsy reached into his holdall and produced seven red roses, like a conjurer pulling a rabbit out of his theatrical hat, and handed each member of the group one rose, keeping one for himself.
Without further explanation, Gootsy sounded off like a sodden old vicar winging it front of six or seven people who, to get out of the rain, had wandered into a service for a person with no friends or known history: “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Mark Bolland, sadly no longer with us. Let us pray in silence, in our own thoughts and remember the life – the force of nature – that was Mark Bolland.” Gootsy held out his hands as if in prayer, holding his rose between his thumbs.
The group quickly got the idea and each one copied Gootsy.
Gootsy opened his eyes and stared down at Mark who was doing fine and, judging by the broad smile on his face, was enjoying himself. Gootsy spoke in a whisper, as if in a church speaking quietly on his own to a corpse. “I didn’t know you very well Mark Bolland. I heard about your music which I didn’t like much. Too loud and ‘bang-y’ for my sensitive little ears. Nothing personal old boy, just not my scene.”
Mark’s smile disappeared from his otherwise still body. Gootsy continued. “In fact, I preferred the other lot. Can’t remember their name now but you would know who I mean. You had a great talent but you could have done better. Yes, I’ll give you a seven out of ten for the contribution you made to this world.”
Gootsy then placed the rose onto Mark’s chest and sat back and looked to his left where Sean was sitting and looked at Sean’s rose as if to signal to Sean to say or do something.
“Er… I thought your music was great. Can’t believe you’re dead. Bye.” It was all Sean could manage but it was enough for him to feel his bit was over as he clumsily placed the rose onto Mark’s body.
Gootsy looked at Sean as if there was something more to be said.
“Oh yes, I’ll give you nine out of ten, thanks.” Sean smiled knowing he was now finished.
Sarah-Jane needed no encouragement; whether it was her turn or not, she was ready to play.
“Mark Bolland. The real Mark Bolland. Wow. I met you two minutes ago and now you’re gone. What a bummer. Had you been alive long enough I would have told you that my dad thought you were the best.”
Mark’s smile returned to his otherwise still body. Sarah-Jane continued as if she had played this game before. “Personally, I think you suck.” Sarah-Jane placed her rose on Mark’s groin and Mark’s smile disappeared again. Sarah-Jane hadn’t quite finished. “I’ll give you six out of ten.”
JC decided it was his turn. “You were a great man, who made a great contribution. You inspired a whole generation. Your music will live forever. You’re a ten out of ten in my book.” JC carefully positioned his rose on Mark’s chest, careful not to disturb the other roses.
Mandy made a heavy sigh. “Oh, Mark. Can’t believe you’re gone. What a shame. I liked your music, er sometimes. You deserve at least eight out of ten. Goodbye, Mark.”
There was a long pause before Davy spoke. The lights were a little too dimmed for the tears in his eyes to be noticed, but the quiver in his voice betrayed his emotion.
“Oh, man. This is a sad, sad day, brother. You were one of the all time greats, no doubt about it.” Davy placed his rose on Mark’s body with some care. “Just wish you’d told me more about the royal batty boy. But nine out ten I guess is fair.” Davy paused to wipe a tear from his eye. “Hey man I would have given you ten if you’d let us be your supporting act all those years ago. I didn’t want to dig that one up brother but now you’re all kind of like dead, I couldn’t help myself. But you know, cool runnings brother.”
Gootsy let a silence grow before addressing the group as a whole. “OK, let’s take a vote. All those in favour of the resurrection of Mark, please raise your hands.”
In turn each guest looked at the others, smiled and raised their hands. Gootsy surveyed the group approvingly, pressed a button on his remote and the lights brightened. Gootsy then spoke in a loud theatrical voice. “Arise, Mark Bolland, the group has spoken, you live.”
Mark however did not move. The group leaned over, a growing sense of concern quickly developed. Sean was the first to make a very close inspection, placing his ear near Mark’s face and bursting out in laughter. “He’s fast asleep. Would you believe it? Couldn’t stay awake for his own funeral service.”
Gootsy pressed another button and out of the speakers came the distinctive sound of one of Mark’s most famous songs, causing Mark to awake with a start.
“What the hell? What?” Mark looked around the amused faces and rubbed his face as if to wake up a bit quicker.
“Oh, shit. I’m still alive.”
Suddenly the music changed to the tune of a song which everyone recognised from the Monty Python film Life of Brian.
“OK,” Gootsy shouted. “All together now: ‘Always look on the bright side of life, always look on the bright side of life’…”
***
“OK, Mandy. How do you feel?” David had decided in his own mind that Mandy was ready to leave but he wasn’t sure if Mandy agreed.
“You mean, am I ready to leave? That’s what you’re really asking me, isn’t it, David?”
Helen smiled knowing where this was going. “Well, do you, you know, feel ready to leave, Mandy?” Helen had her own views and didn’t want to be seen to be influencing Mandy’s decision.
Mandy looked and sounded worried. “OK, I’ve learnt something while I’ve been here and that’s the reward for being honest. So, being honest I’m not really sure what all of this means to me right now. I guess over time I will. I’m here because the court wanted an assessment of me before I go back to be sentenced. A negative report will probably send me to Holloway. So, the honest answer is I’m ready to leave if you think I’ve made progress. I mean the type of progress which would sway a judge. That’s my honest answer.”
Helen looked at Mandy with her headmistress stare. “Mandy when you first came here I wasn’t sure. You’ve got a truckload of problems to deal with. We can only help you up to a poi
nt, but there comes a stage when you’re on your own. My feeling is that you’re on the right road. It will take courage, but I think I’ve seen enough to know that you’ve, let’s say, got the point. I hope that answers your question; if not I’ll spell it out. If the judge decides to send you to prison it won’t be because of our report. You’ve got a lot to offer, but you’ve also got to accept that your life is in your hands, not in the hands of a committee of scriptwriters putting your character through the mill for the sake of viewer ratings.”
“Helen,” said Mandy thoughtfully. “I’m ahead of you on that one.”
“How do you mean?” asked David sounding quite intrigued.
“Well,” said Mandy. “I worked out I’ve got a choice. God that sounds pathetic. It’s like this. I was kind of expecting some form of personal analysis here and then at some point as if by magic I’d find out why I have this urge to play out my character. But I can see it’s not like that. I’m not mad; I’m just shit-scared of what life might dump on me. What I’m going to do is write and produce my own scripts, and boy am I going to give myself something to look forward to. You know, like Shirley Valentine.”
Mandy looked at Helen and smiled as if sharing a private joke. “That’s a wonderful idea – very clever. Let’s have a celebration later, Mandy, after your court appearance, and we can celebrate your freedom, and your new life.”
Mandy stood up and hugged in turn David and then Helen.
“Promise, Helen?” For the first time Helen saw tears in Mandy’s eyes that were not of outrage or fear or self-pity but of hope and joy.
“I promise, Mandy.”
26
Helen, David and JC had asked for another chat with Gootsy in David’s office but the few minutes they had on their own soon focussed on the impending expose by the Sunday News, now only three days away.