I really want. I feel I’m really on the way to getting better. You’ve helped me so much.’
She smiles again. It becomes a little fixed when she sees that he doesn’t return it.
‘Why do you think refusing to admit the truth about commitment issues has manifested as a belief that someone is stalking you?’
Her smile fades. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Under hypnosis, you talked about someone watching you. Someone you called “he”.’
She takes her time. ‘But I never actually saw anyone, did I? It was just a vague uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it isn’t a stalker so much as an unwanted presence in my life.’
Joe wonders how much time she has spent planning this.
‘Are you afraid of men?’ he asks.
She answers a little too quickly. ‘No, of course not.’
‘What are you hoping to get out of the session today, Felicity?’
‘Well, I thought I’d thank you, for your time. And say that you’ve helped a lot and that I’m grateful. And I suppose, I wanted to say goodbye.’
He glances at the clock. They are barely halfway through their allotted time. ‘You want this to be our last session?’ he asks.
Maybe it is a good thing, that this is the last he sees of her.
‘Well, we agreed to six, not including the first time we met, and then we added Friday appointments as well. We’ve covered a lot of ground in that time.’
‘Do you think we’ve got to the bottom of your problems?’
That bright smile is back. ‘I honestly do. I’ve had no more episodes since we started hypnotherapy. I’m sleeping well, I’m doing well at work, looking forward to the new job.’
He says nothing, waiting for her to fill the gap.
‘I’m cured,’ she says cheerily. ‘Well done.’
50
Felicity
Felicity breathes a sigh of relief when she leaves Joe’s office. It’s done, she’s made it through therapy. A few more days and she will be gone. Safe.
Her car is in the Grand Arcade car park but an order she placed last week at Heffers is waiting for collection and the detour won’t take long.
The bookshop is busy and she has to stand in a queue at the enquiry desk waiting her turn. She is almost at the front, one more person to go, when she gets a sense of someone standing too close behind her. She looks back, but the Japanese tourists to her rear are keeping a polite distance. As she returns their smiles, she hears a buzzing sound, low and insistent, below the hum of conversation in the shop. She is suddenly breathing heavily.
The noise she can hear is internalised, a humming in her ears, her own body telling her that something is wrong. The damn woman at the front of the queue cannot remember the title of the book she is looking for, nor its author. Her attempts to describe the plot, and the blue and yellow cover, are met with patience by the server but Felicity has to fight back the urge to yell at them both.
Heffers is a huge bookshop, over several floors, but the walls seem to be closing in. She is getting hotter, in spite of the air conditioning, and the rattle of voices around her is becoming ever more shrill. She is scanning faces, but no one will keep still, and there is a heat boring down onto the top of her head. She can feel herself fading, slipping back into herself, as though she might faint. She looks up and sees him.
Freddie is on the gallery that runs around the first floor. He leans on the rail and watches her. When their eyes meet, he does not move. He does not try to hide, but neither does he acknowledge her presence in any way. He is waiting to see what she will do.
There is only one thing she can do. Run.
51
Joe
When most of the pubs are calling last orders, Joe leaves his flat. He checks his mobile phone has a full battery and in his pockets he carries a high-pitched rape alarm and a can of mace. Ashamed of his cowardice, he knows that without a few safeguards he won’t get through the night. His rucksack is filled with sandwiches, cakes and tubs of fruit, all donated by the city’s sandwich bars, all slightly past their sell-by dates.
He tells himself that the sadness he has been feeling all evening is nothing more than an attack of the glums, a period when he feels down for no apparent reason. He tells himself that it is nothing to do