Two of a Mind (7 page)

Straight face Dez. Don't laugh.

I was sitting in Mum's favourite comfy chair by the patio window overlooking the garden. Alvin sat on an upright ladder-back chair dragged in from the dining room but somehow he still managed to look totally at ease. He'd come into the house all smiles and confidence, oozing so much sex-appeal that Mum actually blushed before hurrying away to make the coffee. My reaction? I was surprised. Yes he was still abso-bloody-lutely gorgeous, but I was totally unfazed! All I could think about was the way I'd felt when Seth had been holding me earlier. Now that did make me feel all warm and gooey.
Nah, don't be daft. He's my best mate that's all.

“Are you all right, Dez?” asked Alvin.

“Yeah … Yes, thanks.” I quickly stopped my daydreaming and looked towards him hoping he couldn't guess what I'd been thinking.

“Before we start do you have any questions or concerns?”

“No. Not really,” I said, but I can't have been very convincing as he just looked at me with one eyebrow slightly raised. “Erm. Well I am a bit nervous,” I admitted. “A bit keyed up, I suppose.”

“That's understandable. We all get anxious when we're trying something new. But I want you to know there's nothing to be worried about. Ms Thorogood and I are completely at your disposal for the next hour, or you can ask us to leave right now if you'd rather not carry on.”

Ms Thorogood nodded encouragingly from the far end of the wine-red leather sofa.

“No. I want to do this. I just don't want to disappoint anyone if it doesn't work.”

“Do you often feel you are disappointing people, Dez?” Alvin asked.

“Sometimes.” I started to pick at one of my ragged cuticles. “I know I'm a big disappointment to Mum.”

I expected a patronising denial but Alvin and Ms Thorogood kept quiet.

“She never says I've done well, even when I've tried my best. If I ask her whether I look nice before I go out she tells me not to be vain or she makes a comment like my skirt's too short or my t-shirt's tatty.”

Alvin nodded gently in acceptance of what I was saying while he made notes on his palm-pad.

Odd that – normally adults tried to defend each other or justify their take on things.
I swallowed the lump of emotion building in my throat and continued, “It's not like I've inherited her amazing looks – I have to work at it. I work hard at the Academy too, 'cos I haven't got Dad's brains either. If I wasn't constantly being reminded about how hard it was for Mum to have me I'd think I was adopted – especially now that my PT connection hasn't turned on!”

I was beginning to feel tearful and Alvin must've sensed my rising tension. He stopped keying into his palm-pad and looked at me.

“Okay, Dez,” he said. “Let's get started, shall we? I'd like you to uncross your legs and just let your arms rest alongside your body. You can put your hands in your lap if that feels better for you.”

I shuffled around not sure how I really wanted to sit. I was feeling self conscious and desperate not to get the giggles.

“Shall I close my eyes?”

“When you're comfortable. It'll help you to relax.”

I closed my eyes, although it was hard not to open them again straight away.

“Now, I'd like you to concentrate on my voice and allow yourself to forget about everything else for the moment. Don't worry about any other noises around you. There's nothing that needs your attention for now.”

That wasn't too hard. He had a voice like melting chocolate – rich and warm. It was a comforting voice, soothing and it quickly made me feel safe and not at all giggly.

“Take a nice deep breath. Hold it for a moment then gently breathe out, letting your shoulders drop and allowing your whole body to relax. You can feel the tension slipping away with each breath. Your muscles are gradually relaxing in every part of your body: your face is relaxing, your neck and shoulders are relaxing, your back …”

It was amazing. Until then, I'd never experienced each muscle actually loosen and the tension drain away so physically. It felt like I was sinking into the chair and even though I knew I could move if I needed to I realised I didn't want to. I was enjoying the sense of freedom. My arms and legs, hands and feet were utterly relaxed – I could barely feel them. Then I became aware that I'd let my concentration slide. I tuned back in to what Alvin was saying.

“… to ask you to imagine certain things. Don't worry if you can't picture them or if you find your mind wandering. My voice may fade into the background, but that's fine. Just allow yourself to drift along, completely relaxed.”

Every time he said relax I felt myself drift further away. I couldn't believe there was any tension left but at each prompt I sank deeper and deeper into a welcoming semi-conscious state. I'd never felt this safe, this comfortable, not even when Dad used to hold me tightly to his chest after I'd woken from a nightmare.

“Try to imagine, if you can, that you are standing in a park. It's a warm evening with clear skies and a full bright moon lights the path ahead of you. In the distance you can see various coloured lights and hear the music and laughter of a traditional fairground.”

A small part of my mind reminded me that I was sitting in our lounge but I could see the lights, hear the old-fashioned pipe music from the merry-go-round and smell the fried onions. I began to walk down the moonlit path, dragging my hand along the park railings, feeling the rhythmic shudder up my arm as I hit each metal post. There was a cheerful elderly man at the gate who scanned my wrist-chip for the entry charge and, with a broad grin and a twinkle in his eye, told me to enjoy the fair.

I wandered though the crowds. There were families, the children holding tightly to helium-filled balloons of all shapes and sizes. Couples walked with their arms draped around each other – the boys strutting, full of testosterone, and the girls cuddling enormous stuffed toys. Groups of boys showed off their expertise at the rifle range while self-assured, predatory girls looked on. I smiled at the stereotypes. My imagination could be really naff sometimes!

The guy at the House of Mirrors called out to me. He bowed extravagantly and gestured for me to enter the darkened doorway. The corridor was lined with mirrors of various types, reflecting my progress in strange and comical forms. I continued along the passage until I reached a room full of mirrors – plain reflections, no distortions but hundreds of images. Or rather hundreds of me! It reminded me of the horror films we'd watch on
‘Classics Old & New'
but I didn't feel scared, just curious to see where this was leading. I was enjoying the journey that Alvin was guiding me along.

Gradually I became aware of additional reflections materialising in some of the mirrors. In one my mother stood beside me, holding a baby and singing softly while the baby held tightly to her finger. Another had Dad's smiling face just visible behind my left shoulder. Seth's familiar figure strode across the background of one mirror and his mother came forward in another to put her arm around me and give me a friendly squeeze. Eventually, all but one of the mirrors had reflections of my family, friends and memories. I began to feel anxious for in each of those reflections I could sense another identity tied to the family member or friend although I couldn't actually see the extra occupant. In the single reflection of me I was completely alone, no shadows of a third party, no sense of another presence. Just like at my Sixteenth-Eve party – there was nobody there.

“… two, three, four, five.” I heard Alvin's voice clearly and opened my eyes.

I stretched like a cat waking from its nap then realised my cheeks were wet. I'd been crying.

“I think we'll leave it at that for today, Dez.” Alvin reached out to me with a tissue.

“Thanks,” I said, embarrassed by my reaction. “I didn't know I was crying. I'm not really upset. I suppose it just brought stuff back from my sixteenth when my PT connection didn't turn on. Honestly, I feel much better than before. I never realised I could be so relaxed.”

The anxious frown left Alvin's face and he smiled reassuringly.

“If you're really up to it we can continue in a couple of days. Or we can leave it until next week if you'd rather.”

“No. The sooner the better,” I said.

“Good. Debbie, we can manage Saturday morning, can't we?”

“Yes. That'll be fine.”

I'd never thought of Ms Thorogood as a Debbie! Then I realised what Alvin had asked her.

“Please don't spoil your weekend. I lost track of what day it is. I'll wait until next week,” I said, hurriedly, hoping they didn't think I was being awkward.

“Being self-employed makes me master of my own diary,” Alvin said. “Now, Dez. This is just the beginning – don't expect miracles, okay?”

I nodded.

“Sometimes the subconscious can be bit stubborn so have patience. And don't worry about not having a PT connection. There are quite a few folk who haven't got them and they manage to get along just fine. After all, it makes no physiological difference. Telepathic twinning is still a fairly new twist to our evolution. We've only had it for a couple of generations or so and we're still trying to discover how it happened.” I must have been showing signs of having lost the thread. “What I'm getting at is that you mustn't feel you're a freak for not having a PT. If anything, you're still the normal one and we're all the freaks!” he said.

“Alvin, please don't start patronising me now,” I said. “I can't help how I feel about the telepathic stuff. You only have to see the way non-telepaths are treated to know that they're seen as deficient. Racism and sexism might've died out decades ago but there'll always be someone at the lower end of the pecking order – this time it's us Empties.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Omigod. I'm sorry, Alvin. I didn't mean to be offensive,” I gasped.

“Don't apologise, Dez. You're right. Making light of the situation was insensitive of me. I'm the one who's sorry. Are you happy to continue with the sessions?”

“Yes. Of course! If there's the slightest chance that we can fix this it's worth the effort. And if not – well, at least you can help me ‘come to terms with it'.” I looked at Ms Thorogood and winked at her.

“Atta girl!” she whispered.

Just hope I can come to terms with it!

Coming to terms with it? Suppose Alvin's right, I'm no different to the person I was before my sixteenth. But isn't that part of the problem?

I gave a jaw breaking yawn and wondered why I was so exhausted after the morning's hypnotherapy session. After all, I'd felt like I'd been sleeping through half of it.

“Desirée. If you're so tired you should cancel your plans to go out and rest here instead.”

“Mum, please! I'm old enough to know when I'm ready for bed. I just need some fresh air to blow away the drowsiness from the hypnotherapy. A walk with Seth'll do me more good than moping around the house and getting under your feet.”

“Dez is right, Celeste. We shall have a nice quiet afternoon while she gets some exercise,” said Dad, as he cleared the lunch plates from the kitchen table.

“I'm just worried that she'll overdo it,” said Mum, seeming to forget that I was still in the room.

“I'll be fine,” I said.

“And I shall be in the study so you can stretch out on the sofa and get some rest yourself, Celeste.” Dad often worked from home.

“Rest? I haven't got time to rest. Do you realise how much work it takes to keep the house looking half-way decent? …”

I left before Mum's complaining spoiled my relaxed mood from the session with Alvin. I collected my bag from the hallway and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. For the first time since my sixteenth I felt that it was going to work out, even if the PT never turned on – I'd manage somehow. The short stroll to Seth's did clear my head, although I was mid-yawn again when he opened the door for me.

“Jeez, Dez! I nearly fell in,” he laughed.

He earned himself a second punch of the day.
Oops!
That reminded me why he got the first one.

“Sorry. I forgot the biscuits,” I said. “Mum was going into one about all the chores she insists on doing, so I legged it.”

“Aw. I've been looking forward to them all day. Now we'll have to make do with shop-bought chewy-nut cookies.”

“Well, at least they're not choc-chip!”

We went through to the kitchen, which looked just as it had the other evening. I'm sure the washing pile was exactly how I'd left it. Yes, they'd left the colour-load in the machine –
oh yuck
. I opened the washer door and the smell confirmed it. I recharged the silver detergent ball and set the programme onto a short but intensive wash.

“You're being typical cavemen. You know that don't you?” I scolded.

“Mm,” Seth agreed as he poured the tea. “Cookies are on top of the fridge,” he said, pointing in the general area of the refrigerator.

I brought the cookie jar to the table and absentmindedly started to munch as I opened Elizabeth's
Handi
. Once again I felt like I was intruding on her private life but Seth nodded for me to continue.

Many of the entries were mundane – appointments with her bookkeeping clients, reminders about Parents' Evenings at the Academy, birthdays, anniversaries etc. There were some saved e-zine snippets about handicrafts, recipes, or gardening tips. She even had some celeb gossip in there,
didn't know she was interested in that
. There was also a wide range of archived news articles; from the legislation effecting her work to political debates and crime reports.

“I'm not sure what I should be looking for,” I said. “It all seems fairly ordinary to me. What did you see that made you feel she … That it wasn't an accident?”

Seth came to sit next to me and leaned close so that he could key commands onto the
Handi
screen.

“Why did she keep these?” he asked, bringing the news archive up on to the screen. “All those horrible murders, deaths and accidents used to really upset her when they came on the news. So why would she remind herself of them? And here…” He started to scroll through the
Handi
's pages. “There're all sorts of weird quotations throughout the entries. Some even pop up when you're looking at the news reports.”

“Maybe she liked to keep a reminder of the things she'd read.”

“No. She didn't read all those books. I'm sure of it. Maybe some of the classics but there's some obscure stuff and some of them just aren't her – if you know what I mean. Look.”

Seth brought up a page with an orange background and a flashing white exploding text box: ‘The rich are the scum of the earth in every country.' The text was in a blocky black font as though the message was being thrown out of the page at the reader. Elizabeth had annotated it with ‘Quote: The Flying Inn: G K Chesterton (1874-1936)'

“See? That's not the way Mum thought. She always said there were good and bad in all walks of life, no matter where people came from or how much they had in the bank. You know how tolerant she was of others. And I never heard her speak of G K Chesterton so it's not like he was one of her favourite authors. Why would she keep a quote like that?”

“Seth, I don't know. What're you trying to say?”

“I feel like she's trying to get a message out. But I just can't find it.” He scrubbed at his forehead with clenched fists, his shoulders hunching up towards his ears. I reached over to rub his neck and shoulders with large sweeping circles.

“S'okay, Seth. We'll work on it together. We'll suss it out somehow.” I felt a tightening in my stomach as I massaged his broad back – I hadn't noticed how muscular he was, he'd always seemed so skinny. He gradually relaxed and turned to look at me. My breath caught as I returned his gaze. His soft brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears and his face was slightly flushed.

“Hmph,” he muttered, embarrassed by his reaction. He looked at the washing-machine and gestured towards it. “Thanks, Dez. I'll just get that lot out while there's still some sunshine. Then we can take another look.”

The spell broken, I turned back to the
Handi
while Seth went into the garden with the freshened laundry. He had a point. Some of the entries did seem uncharacteristic of Elizabeth so maybe she was trying to say something. I started from the beginning – a key to the highlighted entries in her diary section: yellow signified client meetings or calls for her bookkeeping business; green for personal reminders such as dental appointments, Academy events and so on; pink was for birthdays and anniversaries. But there was nothing to explain the occasional blue markers, the first of which appeared on Saturday, 31
^st
January 2105.

“Seth,” I called through the open back door. “Have you any idea what the blue markers are for?”

“Be there in a minute.”

I checked the second year of entries. The blue markers were on different dates so they weren't anything that occurred on a regular basis. But then her client appointments weren't on identical dates either so it probably wasn't a big deal.

The warmth from the afternoon sun shining through the kitchen window was making me drowsy again. I sat with my chin resting on my free hand as I scrolled through the
Handi
's pages.

“…
do you mean? … started first time yesterday … come on Troy, I said
…”

“What?” My head slipped from my hand as I came back to myself.

“What?” Seth asked from the doorway.

“What? … No, stop,” I said. Inside my head was buzzing like that irritating murmur you get in a room full of people all holding different conversations at once.
Must be left over effects of the hypnotherapy.
I thought.
Or those bloody drugs that rotten nurse pumped into me.

“You okay, Dez?” Seth stepped forward and hesitantly put his hand on my shoulder.

Why is he suddenly so awkward with me?

“Feel a bit queasy,” I said. “Can you get me some water, please?”

“Sure. You're not gonna keel over are you?”

“No. I'm fine, promise.” I managed a smile. “Just got a bit too hot in the sunshine.” I shifted my chair around the table so that I was in the shadier part of the room. But it wasn't the heat that was freaking me out. The murmuring was still there and I kept getting snippets of conversation coming through clearly like a Holo-Comms receiver picking up audio broadcasts. I felt myself shaking my head as though I was trying to dislodge an insect from my ear and Seth was giving me worried look.

“Dez. What
is
going on with you?”

I felt a sudden wave of nausea and headed for the sink.

“Sorry.” I broke my promise and crashed down as the buzzing overwhelmed me. When I came round, Seth was bending over me, gently patting my forehead with a damp cloth. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and his lips were clenched tight. I was shivering despite the summer heat and I couldn't seem to get it to stop.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's get you home.”

He picked me up with only a little stumble as he manoeuvred me into his arms.

When did he get so strong?

“No.” I struggled to get my feet to the ground. “I'm fine now, honest.”

“Whoa!”

Too late. We both ended up back on the kitchen floor.

“Guess you are!” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“All right. I'm not fine. But I'm not going home.”

“Well, tell me what's up.”

“I don't really know. I've got this noise in my head. It's making me feel sick and dizzy.”

“Sounds like vertigo. My gran used to get it. You need to get something for it, Dez.”

“No! I'm not going anywhere near that clinic if I can help it. Ow, it's difficult to concentrate … I … can …hardly …” I just couldn't get any more words out.

Seth picked me up again and took me into the sitting room, carefully lowering me onto the sofa. He went upstairs and came back with a familiar bottle – his mother's lavender oil. Elizabeth was an amateur herbalist, preferring natural remedies to synthetic drugs. He poured a little of the oil into his hand and gently started to dab it onto my temples, lightly tracing circles around my closed eyes and whispering endearments that he probably didn't think I could hear,

“Don't worry. It's okay. I'm here.”

His soothing voice and the sweet lavender were helping. The murmuring faded slightly so that I could start to think coherently again and I opened my eyes. Seth's face was so close to mine I could smell the warmth of his skin, the left-over zesty fragrance of his morning shower overlaying the perfumed oil he was massaging into my forehead. I lifted my head to take the kiss that had been hovering between us all afternoon.
Good job I didn't throw up earlier.
I giggled before I could complete my intention and Seth leapt back, embarrassed that he'd been caught so close to me.

“Er. Just about to er … I was er …” he said.

“S'fine. You were just making sure I was okay,” I offered.

“Yeah. Yeah. I was just making sure you were okay.”

“
Are
you okay now?” he added.

“Feeling much better, thanks. That lavender oil seems to have done the trick.” My head had cleared. Maybe the dizzy spell had been brought on by the hypnotherapy session and the hot sun through the kitchen window after all.

“Well I don't think we should do any more today,” he said. “I'll take you home before you have another funny turn. We can look at Mum's diary when you're feeling better. Sorry, I shouldn't have pressured you so soon after you got out of the clinic.”

“Don't worry, Seth. I'm all right, really I am. But, I
will
go home and have an early night. That hypno stuff must be more tiring than I imagined. I'm whacked.”

I packed Elizabeth's
Handi
away into my bag despite Seth's argument that I shouldn't bother myself with it any more. I wanted to look at it alone. Make some notes. See if I could see any pattern to the entries or connections that Seth might've missed
.
I finally convinced him that I'd be able to handle it without freaking out again.

The afternoon was beginning to cool and, although the shivers were now under control, Seth insisted that I draped his jumper around my shoulders as we started the short stroll to my house. Samuel came around the corner just as we reached the end of their drive.

“Hello, Dez,” he said. “Nice to see you out and about. How're you doing?”

“Good thanks, Mr Wa … Samuel.” We all laughed at my stuttered response and I warned Seth with a loaded glance that he wasn't to mention my dizzy spell.

“It'll take me a while to get used to calling you that,” I added, turning back to Samuel.

“It's fine, love. You call me whatever you like, as long as it's not late for my dinner!”

“Oh, Dad. That's so lame!”

“I know, Seth. I know.” Samuel grinned and winked at me, enjoying the mild embarrassment he was causing his son. “Take care, love. See you later, eh?”

“Yes. I'll be round again tomorrow. And I'll remember the ginger biscuits.” Much to Seth's surprise, I took his hand and dragged him out of the drive. Samuel's smile widened when he noticed the gesture.

Now I see where Seth's lovely smile comes from!