Sam stood only feet from her as she swayed once again, cradling her hands against her chest as if to ease their pain. Then, shivering uncontrollably, she fell to her knees. William, dont leave me. Oh God, save my child, she whispered brokenly. Let someone come. Please bring us bring him food. Please Im so cold so cold Her voice trailed away to a sob and slowly she subsided onto the floor. Oh God have mercy on me. Her fingers grasped convulsively at the rush matting which carpeted the room, and Sam stared in horror as the blood seeped from her hands onto the sisal, soaking into the fibres, congealing as she lay there emitting dry, convulsive sobs.
Joanna? Joanna! Cohen knelt awkwardly beside her and, defying his own instructions, he laid his hand on her shoulder. Joanna, lass, I want you to listen to me. His face was compassionate as he touched her, lifting a strand of her heavy dark hair, gently stroking her cheek. I want you to stop crying, do you hear me? Stop crying now and sit up, theres a good girl. His voice was calm, professionally confident as the two men watched her, but there was growing anxiety in his eyes. Slowly her sobs grew quieter and she lay still, the harsh rasping in her throat dying away. Cohen bent closer, his hand still on her shoulder. Joanna. Gently he shook her. Joanna, are you hearing me? I want you to wake up. When I count three. Are you ready? One two three
Under his hand her head rolled sideways on the matting. Her eyes were open and unblinking, the pupils dilated. Joanna, do you hear me? One, two, three. As he counted Cohen took her by the shoulders and half lifted her from the floor. Joanna, for the love of God, hear me
The panic in the mans voice galvanised Sam into action. He dropped on his knees beside them, his fingers feeling rapidly for a pulse in the girls throat.
Christ! Theres nothing there!
Joanna! Cohen was shaking her now, his own face ashen. Joanna! You must wake up, girl! He calmed himself with a visible effort. Listen to me. You are going to start to breathe now, slowly and calmly. Do you hear me? You are breathing now, slowly, and you are with William and you have both eaten. You are happy. You are warm. You are alive, Joanna! You are alive!
Sam felt his throat constrict with panic. The girls wrist, limp between his fingers, had begun to grow cold. Her face had taken on a deathly pallor, her lips were turning grey.
Ill ring for an ambulance. Cohens voice had lost all its command. He sounded like an old man as he scrambled to his feet.
No time. Sam pushed the Professor aside. Kneel here, by her head, and give her mouth-to-mouth. Now man! When I say so! Crouching over the girl he laid his ear to her chest. Then, the heel of one hand over the other, he began to massage her heart, counting methodically as he did so. For a moment Cohen did not move. Then he bent towards her mouth. Just as his lips touched hers Joanna drew an agonising, gasping breath. Sam sat back, his fingers once more to her pulse, his eyes fixed on her face as her eyelids flickered. Go on talking to her, he said urgently under his breath, not taking his eyes from her face. Her colour was beginning to return. His hands were once more on her ribs, gently feeling the slight flutter of returning life. One breath, then another; laboured painful gulps of air. Gently Sam chafed her ice-cold hands, feeling the stickiness of her blood where it had dried on her fingers and over her palms. He stared down at the wounds. The cuts and grazes were real: lesions all around the fingernails and on the pads of the fingers, blisters and cuts on her palms, and a raw graze across one knuckle.
Cohen, making a supreme effort to sound calm, began to talk her slowly out of her trance. Thats great, Joanna, good girl. Youre relaxed now and warm and happy. As soon as you feel strong enough I want you to open your eyes and look at me Thats lovely Good girl.
Sam watched as she slowly opened her eyes. She seemed not to see the room, nor the anxious men kneeling beside her on the floor. Her gaze was focused on the middle distance, her expression wiped smooth and blank. Cohen smiled with relief. Thats it. Now, do you feel well enough to sit up?
Gently he took her shoulders and raised her. I am going to help you stand up so you can sit on the couch again. He glanced at Sam, who nodded. Carefully, the two men helped her to her feet and guided her across the room; as she lay down obediently Cohen covered her with the rug. Her face was still drawn and pale as she laid her head on the pillow. She curled up defensively, but her breathing had become normal.
Cohen hooked his stool towards him with his toe, and perching himself on it, he leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. Now, Joanna, I want you to listen carefully. I am going to wake you up in a moment and when I do you will remember nothing of what has happened to you here today, do you understand? Nothing, until we come and ask you if you would like to be regressed another time. Then you will allow us to hypnotise you once more. Once you are in a trance again, you will begin to relive all the events leading up to this terrible time when you died. Do you understand me, Joanna?
You cant do that. Sam stared at him in horror. Christ, man! You are planting a time bomb in that girls mind!
Cohen glared back. We have to know who she is and what happened to her. We have to try and document it. We dont even have a datefix
Does that matter? Sam tried to keep his voice calm. For Gods sake! She nearly died!
Cohen smiled gently. She did die. For a moment. What a subject! I can build a whole new programme round her. Those hands! I wonder what the poor woman can have been doing to injure her hands like that. No, Dr Franklyn, I cant leave it at that. I have to know what was happening to her, dont you see? Hers could be the case which proves everything! He stared down at her again, putting his hands lightly on her face, ignoring Sams protests. Now Joanna, my dear, you will wake up when I have counted to three and you will feel refreshed and happy and you will not think about what happened here today at all. He glanced up at Sam. Is her pulse normal now, Dr Franklyn? he asked coldly.
Sam stared at him. Then he took her hand, his fingers on her wrist. Absolutely normal, Professor, he said formally. And her colour is returning.
Well send her home now, then, Cohen said. I dont want to risk any further trauma. You go with her and make sure she is all right. Her flatmate is a technician at the labs here, thats how we got her name for the tests. Ill ask her to keep an eye on things, too, to make sure there are no after-effects, though Im sure there wont be any.
Sam walked over to the window, staring out at the snow as he tried to control his anger.
There could well be after-effects. Death is a fairly debilitating experience physically, he said with quiet sarcasm. It was lost on Cohen, who shook his head. The lass wont remember a thing about it. Well give her a couple of days to rest, then Ill have her back here. His eyes gleamed with excitement behind the pebble lenses. Under more controlled conditions well take her back to the same personality in the period prior to her death. He pursed his lips, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead with it.
All right. Here we go. Joanna, do you hear me? One two three.
All right. Here we go. Joanna, do you hear me? One two three.
Joanna lay still, looking from one to the other, dazed. Then she smiled shakily. Sorry. Didnt hypnosis work on me? In my heart of hearts I thought it probably wouldnt. She sat up and pushed back the rug, swinging her feet to the floor. Abruptly she stopped and put her hands to her head.
Sam swallowed. You did fine. Every result is an interesting result to us, remember. He forced himself to smile, shuffling the papers on the table so that her notes were lost out of sight beneath the pile. The tape recorder caught his eye, the spools still turning, and he switched it off, unplugging it and coiling up the flex, not taking his eyes off her.
She stood up with an effort, her face still very pale, looking suddenly rather lost. Dont I get a cup of tea or anything, like a blood donor? she laughed. She sounded strained; her voice was hoarse.
Cohen smiled. You do indeed. I think Dr Franklyn has it in mind to take you out to tea in style, my dear. Its all part of the service here. To encourage you to return. He stood up and went over to the door, lifting her anorak down from the hook. We ask our volunteers to come to a second session, if they can, to establish the consistency of the results, he said firmly.
I see. She looked doubtful as she slipped into the warm jacket and pulled the scarf around her neck. Groping in the pocket for her gloves she gave a sudden cry of pain. My hands! Whats happened to them? Theres blood on my scarf theres blood everywhere! Her voice rose in terror.
Cohen did not blink. It must be the cold. Youve been a naughty girl and not worn your gloves, thats nasty chapping.
But She looked confused. My hands werent cold. I wore gloves. I dont even get chilblains. I dont understand
Sam reached for his raincoat. He suddenly felt very sick. Its the heavy snow coming so soon on top of a warm spell, he said as reassuringly as he could. Ill prescribe something for you if you like. But I suggest scones and cream and hot tea might be the best medicines to start with, dont you think? He took her arm. Come on. My car is round the back.
As he closed the door of the room behind them he knew that he would personally see to it that she did not return.
1
London: 1985
Basically I like the idea. Bet Gunning leaned across the table, her eyes, as they focused on Jos face, intense behind the large square lenses of her glasses. Six articles exploring various fads which have swept the world showing mans fear and rejection of modern life and values. Shit! That sounds pompous! The eyes narrowed and gleamed suddenly. Im right in thinking that the usual Jo Clifford approach will be used? A ruthless appraisal, then a knife in the back?
Jo was watching her intently, admiring Bets professionalism. The relaxed lunch at Wheelers, the casual gossip she had seemed only to glance at the typed notes Jo had pushed across the table but now, as she reeled off the titles of the articles, she proved she had memorised and digested them. Bet had no need to refer back to the paper she had slipped into the enormous leather sack she toted everywhere on her shoulder.
Whole Food: Health or Nostalgia a bit old hat, lovie, if you dont mind my saying so. Its been bunked and debunked so often. Unless youve got a new approach?
Jo grinned. Trust me, Bet. OK the series in principle and Ill show you some outlines.
Bet looked at her sharply. Jo was wearing her innocent look, her grey-green eyes staring vaguely into the middle distance, her dark hair framing her face so that she looked disarmingly soft and feminine. Meeting her for the first time she had thought Jo might be an actress, or a model perhaps; Bet smiled inwardly. Were there any clues? The uncompromisingly large mans Rolex watch perhaps?
Their eyes met and both women smiled appreciatively. They had been friends for five years, ever since Bet had taken over as editor of Women in Action. Jo had been on the staff then, learning the trade of journalism. She learned fast. When she left to go freelance it was because she could name her figure for the articles she was producing.
Anything Ethnic, Medieval Medicine, Cosmic Consciousness my God, whats that? Meditation and Religion youll have to keep that light Bet was going through the list in her head. Regression: Is history still alive? Thats the reincarnation one, yes? I read an article about it somewhere quite recently. It was by an American woman, if I remember, and totally credulous. I must try and look it up. You will, of course, be approaching it from quite the opposite standpoint.
Jo smiled. They tried it on me once, at university. Thats what gave me the idea. The world authority on the subject, Michael Cohen, tried to put me under and failed. He gave me the creeps! The whole thing is rubbish.
Bet gave a mock sigh. So another set of anodynes for the people bites the dust, already! Her raised shoulders emphasised the sudden Jewish accent.
Jo gave an unexpected gurgle. Am I that cruel?
You know damn well you are. Thats what were paying you for! OK, Jo, show me the outlines. Im thinking in terms of a New Year or spring slot so youve plenty of time. Now, what about illustrations? Are you fixed up or do you want them done in house?
I want Tim Heacham.
Youll be lucky! Hes booked solid these days. And hed cost.
Hell do it for me.
Bet raised an eyebrow. Does he know that?
He will soon.
And what will Nick say?
Jos face tightened for a moment. Nick Franklyn can go take a running jump, Bet.
I see. That bad?
That bad.
Hes moved out?
Hes moved out. With cream please. Jo smiled up at the waiter who had approached with the coffee pot.
Bet waited until he had withdrawn. Permanently?
Thats right. I threw his camera across the room when I found out hed been sleeping with Judy Curzon.
Bet laughed. You cow. She sounded admiring.
It was insured. But my nerves arent. Im not possessive, Bet, but hes not going to mess me about like that. If its off its off. I dont run a boarding-house. What do you think about the title of the series?
Nostalgia Dissected? Bet looked up, her head a little to one side. Not bad. Im not totally convinced, but it certainly puts the finger on your approach. She beckoned to the waiter for the bill. Arent you going to tell me any more about Nick?
Jo put down her coffee cup and pushed it away. She stared down at her hand, extending it over the tablecloth, flexing her fingers as if amazed they still worked. It is three years, four months and eight days since I met Sam again and he introduced me to his brother. Doesnt that surprise you?
It surprises me that you counted, lovie, Bet said, slightly acidly, tossing her American Express card down on the waiters tray.
I worked it out last night in the bath. Its too long, Bet. Too long to live in someones pocket, however well one gets on. And, as you know, we dont all that often!