Two of a Mind (5 page)

“It's the quickest way for this sedative to be absorbed,” she explained curtly.

Bet she's enjoying this!

I thrashed about a moment longer until the drug took effect then I lay still, staring at the white ceiling, breathing heavily and letting silent tears dribble into my ears.

I just want to go home.

“I'll see your friend,” I whispered, knowing this was the only way to get there.

Ms Thorogood gently patted my shoulder and smiled. “I'll see you soon, Dez. Take care.”

As she left Dad came up to the bedside. His face was drawn, his eyes red-rimmed and he looked like he'd aged ten years in two days.

“Dez, sweetheart, you must try to calm down. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“Why didn't Mum come?”

“She thought it might be too much for you to have all of us visiting together. She's finding it hard to deal with but …”

“Typical! How hard does she think it is for me? But, it's all about her as usual.” Even though my lips stung and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool I could still make cutting comments.

“Desirée. That is enough. I will not listen to you talking about your mother in that tone. If you had let me finish I was about to say that she is intending to come in later.”

Desirée – that showed I'd really gone too far this time. Would it never stop – this vicious cycle of hurting the ones I loved and hating myself for doing it?

Nurse Marion returned, hovering by the door with another dose of dopey juice. Dad took the hint. He leaned over to kiss my forehead and quietly told me that both he and Mum loved me more than I thought.

The hot, guilty tears continued to flow and as I drifted into a drugged sleep I mourned the loss of my ordinary life. I still wanted to be the over-indulged only child who was the apple of her Daddy's eye. But how long would his patience last if I continued to behave like a spoilt brat?

I've let you down again, haven't I?

“The business world was shocked today by the untimely death of Jacob Trevalyn. Early indications are that he suffered a massive heart attack during yesterday evening whilst working alone at the Trevalyn Corporation Head Office.”

“Yada, yada, yada.” Sebastian Trevalyn swiped his hand over the screen to close the news programme. “Stupid idiot!” He was referring to his brother's self-testing of the enhancement drug he'd devised.

Jacob's life-long heart condition had been a family secret and one which their father, Benjamin, was particularly disappointed about. The Trevalyns were infallible as far as Benjamin was concerned and his sons had been nurtured, tutored and moulded into the same self-belief. Unfortunately for Jacob, Mother Nature believed otherwise.

Sebastian had great plans for the Trevalyn Corporation and once the old man was gone he'd have free rein to put them in place – at least until young Victor came of age. He'd have to ensure his nephew would follow the path that ‘Uncle Sebastian' laid out for him.

Matt held his grandmother's hand and felt the arthritic bones beneath the paper dry skin. He wanted to hold on tightly but was afraid that it would bring more pain so he gently stroked the back of that beloved hand hoping that she could still sense his presence and the deep love he felt for her.

“Look Dad.” Eddie waved a card he'd plucked from Julia's dresser. “She got her telegram from Buck House just like she said she would. It's even got a personal message from Wills.”

Matt chuckled at his son's apparent disrespect. Over the years Baroness Julia Simpson had developed a strong relationship with the royals and, when talking to her family about him, she occasionally lapsed into using the King's pet name.

“Oh, let me see.” Jade grabbed her twin-brother's arm to look at the message.

“Shush, you two,” their mother said. “You'll disturb Granny Julia.”

“It's alright, Laura. Gran will enjoy their chatter.” Matt smiled at his wife and gestured for her to sit by him.

“Charles is still available,” Julia whispered.

“Gran?” Matt started at the unexpected comment. Julia had been sleeping so soundly that he'd thought she was slipping away already.

“William's grandson – Charles. Jade could do worse.” Julia's eyes, though pale and watery held a brief flash of mischief.

The family laughed and gathered around the bed, each of them keen to share the precious little time that Julia had left. Soon the old lady began to tire. Eddie and Jade kissed their great-grandmother and promised to fulfil her wishes that they would follow their dreams. They held tightly to each other's hand as they slipped out of the room. Laura leaned back in her chair to give Matt and Julia the privacy to say their goodbye, but she kept her hand on her husband's back to reassure him he would not be alone.

“I'm sorry Matt, I couldn't finish it.”

“What are you talking about Gran?”

“There's a file in my safe. It's not complete yet. You'll have to carry on. It's been so hard to find anything.” Julia's breathing became laboured and she frowned with the effort of continuing. “Keep looking, Matthew. Promise you'll keep looking.”

Matt had no idea what Julia wanted him to look for but he would have promised her the moon if it helped. “Of course I will,” he said, tears now spilling onto his pristine shirt.

Julia smiled then shuddered as her final breath released her troubled spirit at last.

“I can't see what she was looking for.” Matt threw the file on to the table in disgust. The printed news cuttings spilled out. “She was obsessed with the damned Trevalyn family. It's all stuff about them and their business dealings. But I can't see anything untoward.”

Jade gave her father a comforting hug. “Don't fret, Dad. Granny hadn't managed to solve it in all those years so it's bound to take time for us to work it out. Let me see.”

Her father was right, Jade couldn't see what Granny Julia had been searching for either. All the information in the file was from the public domain so it was hardly the stuff of thriller novels but she knew that her great-grandmother wouldn't have wasted her time on something unless she felt it was absolutely necessary.

“Did Granny Julia leave any other documents?” Jade asked.

“Tons,” sighed Matt, gesturing towards several old fashioned trunks in the corner of his grandmother's office. “Knock yourself out.” He plucked his jacket from the coat stand then tossed a set of keys towards Jade. “I've got a meeting with Gran's solicitor. Will you be home later?”

She deftly caught the keys mid-air. “Yes, I'll be in for supper,” she answered, turning towards the trunks with the eagerness of a child about to open her birthday presents. Little did she realise the ultimate cost of that curiosity.

Okay. New day, fresh start. Best behaviour!

My head was still fuzzy. Having been sedated most of the previous day, I wasn't sure whether Mum had actually been to see me. Dreams and reality merged in my memory.

I was now propped up in the hospital bed, still being monitored by the sensor screen – presumably in case they felt I needed another dose of the dopey juice – and trying to put on a happy face for my visitors. It wasn't easy.

“Dez, this is Alvin Grey, the friend that I was talking to you about yesterday. Alvin, this is Dez Hanson.” Ms Thorogood introduced us to each other and the handsome black guy held out his hand to me.

“Pleased to meet you Dez – may I call you Dez?” he said.

“Yes, that's fine. Nice to meet you, too,” I said, although the circumstances weren't particularly nice. And I would've liked at least to have been dressed in proper clothes to meet such a good-looking bloke, with his sexy retro-specs and stylish clothes. He looked a bit like that actor from way back, the one I drooled over when the classics were being run at the antiquated I-Max, Denzel Washington, yeah, that was him – yum! Grey's handshake was firm, dry and pleasantly cool and his light, spicy cologne lingered as he withdrew to stand at the end of the bed.

Careful, Dez. Do you really want him delving into your darkest secrets?

My flirty thoughts must have given me a flush as Dad commented that I was looking less peaky this morning! I quickly reached for my water and hid behind the cup until I felt more composed.

“Don't worry, Dez. It's normal to feel nervous about hypnotherapy if you haven't experienced it before,” said Alvin. “I'll explain the procedure so that you understand what to expect and you can ask about anything you feel unsure or uncomfortable about, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Mr Grey.”

“To start with you can call me Alvin!” He smiled.

Ooh, what gorgeous white teeth – stop it, Dez!

Ms Thorogood was smiling too. “Alvin, put your charm away or she'll never be able to concentrate.” Was I
that
transparent? But the comment broke the tense atmosphere that had lingered since yesterday's episode and I was grateful for the humour.

Dad also seemed to relax a little and offered to get refreshments for everyone. I think it was an excuse for him to give me some privacy with the therapist, knowing that Ms Thorogood was there as a chaperone. He probably wasn't totally convinced that hypnotherapy was going to work but he wouldn't jeopardise anything that might help me.

“Let's start by dispelling some of the myths. Despite what you may have picked up from the media about hypnosis, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do – so, no clucking like a chicken!” He glanced at Ms Thorogood, who winked at me. I blushed again.

“Also,” he continued, “even if you sense your mind wandering, you'll be fully aware of your surroundings so you can come back to full consciousness whenever you feel the need. Any questions so far?”

“No. . ,” I said tentatively.

He smiled, realising I still needed convincing.

“Hypnotherapy helps you to relax. It closes out the interference of everyday life and allows you to reach a focussed state of concentration. Whilst you're in this trance-like condition I'll use suggestion to modify your customary behaviours, feelings and thoughts.”

“You mean, you can change who I am?”

“No, no. The suggestions can only be accepted if you're willing to act on them. For example, if someone wanted to stop biting their nails I wouldn't simply tell them that they must stop biting their nails. The suggestion might be that they imagine a near future when they have beautiful, long, unbitten nails. In some cases, if there is a deep rooted problem for the stress that causes the habit, this must be dealt with first.”

I looked down at my ragged fingernails and sore cuticles. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't bite my nails but I was rarely aware when I was actually doing it! Maybe he could help me with that too.

“What do you think is stopping me connecting with my PT?” I asked.

“That's going to take some time to work out. Everyone is unique – and that's not just a cliché. My subconscious deals with things differently from the way yours does. But there are ways to help it behave more uniformly and healthily. Sometimes it's about allowing yourself to be a little selfish, becoming more confident and increasing your self-esteem. Many people feel guilty for wanting those attributes.”

I was beginning to feel tearful. He was touching on a nerve – outwardly, I was generally seen as brash, confident, and always game for anything. Inside I was desperate for everyone to like me and, to achieve that, I was willing to make a fool of myself, believing laughter was evidence of acceptance. Lacking a PT had brought the little self-esteem I'd had to an all-time low.

“Do you think you can help me connect then?” I asked, quietly.

“Again, it'll depend on what we discover during our sessions, Dez. I can't make promises that I might not be able to keep. But I'll do my best –
that
I can promise.”

Dad's timing was impeccable – or had he been hovering outside the door waiting for a suitable point to bring the drinks in?

“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?