Two of a Mind (6 page)

Please let Mum be happy to see me!

Dad opened the front door and called out, “We're home!”

He turned towards me and gestured for me to go into the house first. I hesitated. It felt strange to stand on the doorstep, unsure of the welcome that waited for me. Only two days since I'd gone over to visit Seth but it seemed like a lifetime. So much had changed in such a short space of time. My non-connection with a Psyche-Twin was now family knowledge. My temper tantrum and hospitalisation were swiftly becoming old news in the neighbourhood – thankfully! And my best friend had shared his deepest, darkest secret – that he believed his mother had committed suicide and that the reason why was hidden in her journal. I had so much to process and I'd been left pretty much on my own to deal with it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” said Dad. “Let's get you inside and have a nice cup of tea.”

At that moment, Mum appeared at the end of the hall, wiping her hands on an old-fashioned apron. The smell of home-baked ginger biscuits made my mouth water – my favourites, especially when she put pieces of crystallised ginger in them. She paused, as if she was as nervous as I was, then she smiled.

“Welcome home, Dez.” I could see her struggle with my abbreviated name and I appreciated her effort.

“Thanks, Mum.” I almost ran down the hall into her embrace. It was a brittle, fragile hug. It felt like she would break if I held her too tightly, but it was surprisingly good to be close to her again. For a moment I felt her tremble as she held herself in check and I couldn't work out whether it was disappointment about my lack of a PT connection or relief that I was safely home again that made her so emotional. I tried to believe it was the latter, but the doubts were there. The hug quickly became awkward and we stepped back from each other. Dad was cheerfully oblivious to the undertones and smiled at the mother and daughter reunion.

“Celeste, you spoil us with those delicious biscuits of yours,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He was making loud sniffing noises and he gave her a swift kiss on the cheek as he walked past her to the kitchen. “Mmm. ‘Good sniffs', as my old grandpa used to say.”

Mum's face softened at both the compliment and Dad's chirpy behaviour. Sometimes I got a glimpse of the woman he'd fallen in love with and I wished she could surface more often or – even better – permanently. When she wasn't frowning or fretting Mum was a real stunner, with perfectly defined cheekbones; a delicate, slightly pointed chin; large dark eyes; and a sweet snub little nose. She must have had hordes of boys after her in her youth. I glanced at the photo-shots along the wall. The older ones showed her laughing and happy – all well before I was born. Had I made her change so much? Was I such a terrible child? I swallowed my thoughts, not wanting to fall into another round of resentful feelings. She was making an effort – baking my favourite treats and calling me Dez – the least I could do was meet her half way.

“You've got a spot of flour,” I said and used a corner of her apron to clear the smudge from her still-smooth cheek.

“Thank you, dear.” And for that instant she held me in a loving gaze that I wished would last forever. The moment passed as she turned to stop Dad demolishing the entire batch of baking. “Jonathan, don't eat all those biscuits. Remember we have visitors tomorrow.”

After our tea and biscuits (“
Only two for now, if you don't mind, Jonathan!
”) I felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. It was early evening but I decided I'd head off to bed before the fragile truce between us was broken.

“Are you sure you don't want anything for dinner?”

“No thanks, Mum. The biscuits were enough for now.”

“I can bring up a tray for you later. If you like?”

“I'll probably sleep through. But I'll come down if I need anything. Don't worry.”

I just wanted to get to my room and take a deep, settling breath. The tension was mounting already. We hadn't talked about what had happened the other night or about my lack of a PT. Did they think that by not saying anything it would go away? Maybe I was jumping the gun. Maybe they've been looking for the right opportunity to broach the subject. Maybe they were waiting for the outcome of my sessions with the hypnotherapist. But now I understood the phrase ‘an elephant in the room' – something huge that nobody wants to acknowledge!
Ah, well, I'll just take my elephant to bed, then.

***

I woke early the next morning and, for once, was keen to get out of bed. I was ravenously hungry and desperate for a long, hot shower – the showers had been lukewarm and auto-restricted to three minutes in the clinic, hardly time to get wet never mind wash my hair! Even getting the shampoo in my eyes didn't bother me this morning. I was home and the gorgeous Mr Grey – ahem, Alvin – was coming to sort me out.
Rephrase
– sort out my PT troubles.
Talk about schoolgirl crush!
How was I going to cope with his lusciousness when he got control over my brain?
Hang on the shower's throwing a thermo wobbly – no it's just me having a hot flush. Calm down Dez!

As if being sixteen wasn't hard enough with all the raging hormones, I now had a non-existent PT and a budding crush on the guy who was supposed to help me find myself. I turned the water to cold, both to close my pores and to cool my flirtatious thoughts. As I stepped out of the shower I knew it was stupid even to consider the therapist in those terms. It was never going to happen. Besides the ethical minefield of patient/practitioner relationship, he was way too old for me anyway! I grinned at my reflection in the
Stay-Clear
mirror and started to detangle my hair. Seth would find all this hilarious. He'd soon put me straight. But just the thought of him made me stop the hairbrush in mid-stroke. My juvenile fantasies about Alvin Grey/Denzel Washington evaporated and something rigid settled in my chest.
Now what? Oh, yeah.
Things were changing between Seth and me now. We had to deal with the serious stuff about his mum and his belief that she – and I – had wanted to die! Trivial, jokey stuff wasn't likely to be on the agenda now. My good mood disappeared along with the fantasies and the resident lump in my chest gave a triumphant twist, choking a couple of dry sobs from me before I got it under control again.

“Dez, sweetheart. Are you all right?” Dad called, as he passed the bathroom door on his way downstairs.

“Yeah. I'm good. Be out in a min.”

I quickly pulled my still-damp hair into a loose ponytail, picked up the used towels, hung them over the rail, and opened the window to dispel the lingering steam.

“The solar panels should manage more hot water in an hour or so!” Dad teased, as I hungrily started on my breakfast.

“Sorry,” I mumbled around a mouthful of granola. “Just needed to wash away the clinic.”

“I was only joking, sweetheart.” His brows furrowed as though he was worried that I was going to go off on one again.

Well, I suppose I'll have to get used to that now.
I thought. “S'okay, Dad. I know.”

His forehead relaxed with obvious relief.

“What time are Ms Thorogood and Alvin coming?” I asked.

“Mr Grey, dear,” said Mum.

“He told me to call him Alvin.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose if he said so it must be all right then. But I must say it seems rather over-familiar to me.”

“Mum. You can be so old fashioned sometimes.” I surprised both of us by giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as I walked behind her towards the dishwasher.

Sitting back at the kitchen table I asked again, “So what time are they coming then?”

“We settled on ten-thirty. Remember?” Dad answered.

“I knew it was this morning but forgot the time, that's all.” I didn't want to admit that Seth's visit had sent everything else straight out of my head. I'd kept his mother's
Handi
out of sight. I instinctively knew that he wanted it to be our secret for now. Seth was convinced his mother's reputation was at risk if it became public knowledge that she'd committed suicide. People could be so narrow-minded. Surely they realised that if you'd got to the point of wanting to end your life you weren't going to be thinking straight. Ms Thorogood had told us that even your PT couldn't overrule your deepest feelings. But what had made Elizabeth so despairing of her life that she felt she had to end it? Whatever it was, it must've been awful – especially as she was adored so openly by her family and friends. It couldn't have been easy to leave her beloved Samuel and Seth behind.

“Dez, sweetheart. Dez? Are you listening?” Dad's voice finally got through my morbid thoughts.

“Mm? Sorry, Dad. What were you saying?”

“I was asking you if you wanted one of us to sit in on your session with Mr Grey?”

“Oh, I'm not sure. No offence, but I'm going to find it hard enough to concentrate on the whole hypnotic trance thing. Anyway, isn't Ms Thorogood coming along? She'll be there to keep an eye on me.”

“You're probably right, Desirée. We'd only get in the way.”

I could tell by the tone in Mum's voice that she had taken offence even though I'd said not to. Or maybe she was uncomfortable about the hypnotherapy process too. I didn't know her opinion of the treatment – we hadn't had chance to discuss it. Just as I was about to ask her there was a tentative knock on the back door. The silhouette showing through the door's privacy screen was obvious.

“Come in, Seth,” I called. Mum frowned. In her opinion it's polite to greet visitors face-to-face and she hates it when I shout through closed doors.

Seth came in looking bewildered. “How'd you know it was me?”

My exaggerated look towards his head gave him the message. He automatically tried to smooth his hair, with the usual lack of success. We grinned at each other, almost embarrassed by the normal banter but not knowing why.

“Desirée has an appointment this morning,” Mum said.

“Yes, I know, Mrs Hanson. Sorry to bother you so early but I was hoping to catch up with her before that. It's a nice morning. I thought a walk in the fresh air might do her some good. If that's okay with you?”

Mum looked at Dad for support but Seth's polite request couldn't be denied without good reason.

“Make sure to be back in good time,” Dad said, looking at me and tapping his antique wristwatch.

“Just gotta clean my teeth,” I said and ran upstairs to complete my morning routine.

When I returned to the kitchen Seth was still standing by the back door –
honestly, Mum, talk about good manners!

“Don't start without me,” I called over my shoulder and I pushed Seth out onto the garden path. I heard Dad chuckling at my cheekiness as the door closed behind me.

“Good to see you're back to your old self,” said Seth.

“Don't bet on it,” I replied. “I simply daren't give them an excuse to send me back to the clinic. We're all treading on eggshells in there. It's driving me crazy for real!”

We walked on in silence. Not a strained silence, just the quietness between friends. No need to talk for a while. Seth finally broached the subject he'd come to discuss.

“Have you had chance to think about Mum's journal entries yet?”

“No, not yet. Sorry, I was so tired when we got home yesterday that I went straight to bed. I'll come round to yours later – if I get through this hypno session in one piece that is! We'll look at it together then.”

“I don't want to influence your take on it,” he said.

“Well I'll read, while you make the cuppas – deal?”

“Deal,” he smiled. “So long as you sneak some of your Mum's ginger biscuits over for us.”

I punched him on the shoulder and he put his arms around me to defend himself. We wrestled briefly then stood laughing at each other's efforts – well mine mainly, as I tried to break his firm grip with my weak struggles. Without any conscious thought our scuffle became an embrace and I laid my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Maybe you're not quite back to normal. You'd've tried to knee me by now,” he said.

“Careful. I still might,” I replied, trying to manoeuvre into a threatening position. “I think those drugs they kept me doped up on must still be in my system. I feel really washed out.”

“Come on. Let's get you back home for your appointment. Can't have you dozing off half way through, can we?”

Seth gave me one last squeeze before releasing me. But, instead of our normal brisk pace with an arm's length between us, we remained arm-in-arm and slowly strolled back towards home like an old married couple.

Mm – feels nice!

“You know, Father, it really is time you handed over the reins while you still have chance to enjoy retirement.”

“Sebastian, my boy, I'm as sharp as I ever was up here,” Benjamin Trevalyn tapped his temple. “Just because the body's getting a tad decrepit don't think I'm losing my marbles.” He raised his whisky glass in a mock toast. He was fully aware of his son's wish to take over the running of the business but with a typical despot's greed he was not ready to bow out even at the advanced age of ninety-three.

Sebastian smiled and returned the gesture. Suddenly Benjamin felt uneasy. The now-empty tumbler slipped from his trembling hand.

“You look cold, Father. I'll go fetch another blanket for you.” Sebastian patted Benjamin's shoulder as he walked past and disappeared into the shadows of the chalet.

As an overwhelming weakness spread through his body, Benjamin realised his mistake. He'd held on for too long and Sebastian had grown impatient. What concoction had he just drunk? It had tasted like his favourite Jura Single Malt but what if the toasted peat tones hid a more dangerous distillation? His temperature swiftly dropped and he thought he could see a figure at the end of the veranda. Who was that woman? Why didn't she help? Surely she could see he was having problems breathing? She seemed to be smiling and it wasn't a welcoming smile.

“Has your past finally caught up with you, Benjamin?”

No! She's been dead for six years. I don't believe in ghosts.

“Not a ghost, Trevalyn. Your conscience,” whispered the spectre of Julia Simpson.

“Grandpa?” Victor nudged the back of the ice cold figure and it fell forward, slipping from the wheelchair with an awful thud as it hit the wooden decking. He ran around the wheelchair to be confronted by the dull, hard stare of his grandfather and was terrified that he'd pushed the old man too hard. Grandpa must have banged his head when he fell. Victor had killed him! He ran back into the chalet, straight to his room and picked up his latest holo-game pad. When Uncle Sebastian came to tell him that Grandpa had died from a heart attack just like Daddy, twelve-year old Victor knew he'd just got away with murder!