soon gone, when she acknowledges that on some level Freddie is still a presence in her life. She might have divorced him. He hasn’t gone away.
As she is driving to Joe’s on Tuesday evening, she makes her decision. She will tell him nothing about what she has learned over the weekend, but she will agree to the hypnosis. Something might emerge, that could give her some clue as to how to proceed. Any way forward has to be better than the state of limbo she is currently in.
36
Joe
‘When you’re ready, Felicity, I want you to tell me what happened last Tuesday evening. I want you to talk me through everything you did, from leaving work, to the moment you heard my call on your mobile.’
For nearly five minutes, Felicity has been in a hypnotic trance. It has taken longer than usual to get her into the deeply relaxed state necessary for hypnotherapy to work, but when Joe lifts her hand from her lap, it falls back in the manner of someone fast asleep.
‘You left work at five thirty,’ he prompts. ‘You were planning to come to me.’
‘I stopped at the garage.’ Her voice is deeper pitched than usual. ‘I needed petrol. And some fags.’
‘Do you smoke?’ he asks.
‘So, shoot me.’ She gives a disdainful shrug.
This is not Felicity’s normal way of speaking. He wonders if she is putting on an act when she is with him, deliberately trying to seem more refined.
He asks, ‘Where did you go after the petrol station?’
‘Home. Got changed. Had a fag.’
‘You decided not to keep our appointment?’
‘Waste of bloody time. No offence.’
‘None taken. Where do you smoke at home?’
‘In my courtyard. The basement if the weather’s bad. I only had one, though. And then I did some handwashing. I’d left one of my shirts to soak, and I checked to see if the blood had come out. I rinsed it through, hung everything up to dry and then checked my home emails.’
‘How did you get blood on your shirt?’
‘I’m not supposed to talk about that.’
‘Why not?’
Her breathing is quickening. Behind closed eyelids, her eyes are flickering.
‘That’s OK, Felicity. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. This is your time. I want you to concentrate on breathing for me.’
For several more minutes, Joe focuses on getting her back into her deep trance. As he does so, he writes on his pad: Blood on shirt? Not supposed to talk?
‘Can you remember who your emails were from?’ he asks.
‘My bank, telling me my monthly statement was ready. A delivery company, about something being delivered the next day. Boring. I checked through some news sites. I read a piece about the murder of the homeless woman – I’d say the daft cow asked for it – and then I went out for some food.’
Joe thinks, were he to close his eyes, he would not believe he was still speaking to Felicity.
‘You didn’t have anything at home?’ he asks.
She scoffs. ‘Rabbit food. I wanted a burger. I walked. I was almost there when—’
She stops and her calm face takes on a troubled look.
‘What happened?’
Felicity’s head begins to make small twitching movements. She says, ‘Someone was watching me.’
‘You saw someone watching you?’
‘No. They kept out of sight. But you know, don’t you, when you’re being watched? It’s an instinct. We know when we’re in danger.’
He writes paranoia and delusional?
‘Do you know who was watching you?’
Her breathing is quickening again.
‘So what did you do?’ he asks.
‘I knew I couldn’t go to the burger bar, never again, because he’d obviously worked out that I go there and will be watching it, waiting for me. And I knew I couldn’t go home, because he knows where I live.’
Her eyes open and her head shoots round to face Joe. ‘He knows where I live. I’m not safe there. I think he can get in. I’m getting the locks changed but it might be too late.’
She is still in her trance. In spite of her frantic words, her eyes have a vague, unfocused look about them.
‘Go on,’ Joe says. ‘Tell me what you did.’
‘I knew he was following me. I just ran. And when I couldn’t run any more, I carried on walking. I could feel that he was behind me, so I kept going. I think I would have walked all night. And then you rang.’
Joe notices, although she may not have, that the vague someone has become a very specific person. A he. The hypnosis has gone better than he