Jo looked up sharply. More or less convincing? Are you saying you dont believe in this yourself?
She saw Tim frown but Walton merely shrugged. He had poured three glasses of Scotch and he handed her one. I am saying, as would any colleague, Miss Clifford, that the hypnosis is genuine. The response of the subject is genuine, in that it is not prompted by me, but where the personalities come from I have no idea. It is the people who come to these sessions who like to think they are reincarnated souls. His eyes twinkled roguishly.
Tim set his camera case on a chair and picked up his own glass. It really is most intriguing. That Betsy woman. A respectable middle-aged housewife of unqualified boringness and she produces all those glorious words out of the gutter! I cant help wondering if that was merely her repressed self trying to get out. He chortled.
Walton nodded. I find myself wondering that frequently. But there are occasions-and these are the ones of course that you as reporters should witness-when the character comes out with stuff which they could in no way have prepared, consciously or unconsciously. I have had people speaking languages they have never learned or revealing historical detail that is unimpeachable. He shook his head. Very, very interesting.
Jo had stood up at last. She went to stand by the bookcase, still frowning slightly.
Walton watched her.
Did you know, Miss Clifford, that you are potentially a good hypnotic subject yourself?
She swung round. Me? Oh, no. After all, none of your tests worked on me.
No. Because you fought them. Did it not cross your mind that the fact that you had to resist so strenuously might mean something? I was watching you carefully and I suspect you were probably one of the most susceptible people here tonight.
Jo stared at him. She felt suddenly cold in spite of the warmth of the room. I dont think so. Someone tried to hypnotize me once, at the university. It didnt work.
She looked into her glass, suddenly silent, aware that Walton was still watching her closely.
He shook his head. You surprise me. Perhaps the person wasnt an experienced hypnotist. Although, of course, if you resisted as you did today, no one could-
Oh, but I didnt resist them. I wanted it to happen. She remembered suddenly the excitement and awe she had felt on her way to Professor Cohens rooms, the abandon with which she had thrown herself into answering all his questions before the session started, the calm relaxation as she lay back on his couch watching Sam standing in the corner fighting with his notepad while outside the snow had started to fall
She frowned. How strange that the details of that afternoon had slipped her mind until this moment. She could picture Sam now-he had been wearing a brown turtleneck sweater under a deplorably baggy sports jacket. When they had been introduced she had liked him at once. His calm relaxed manner had counteracted Cohens stiff academic formality, putting her at ease. She had trusted Sam.
So why now did she have this sudden image of his tense face, his eyes wide with horror, peering at her out of the darkness, and with it the memory of pain
She shrugged off a little shiver, sipping from her glass as she glanced back at Walton. It was about fifteen years ago now-Ive probably forgotten most of what happened.
He nodded slowly without taking his eyes from her face. Then he turned away. Well, it might be interesting to try again, he said thoughtfully. Would you like to?
No! She answered more sharply than she intended. At least, not yet. Perhaps when my research is a bit further advanced Warning bells were ringing in her mind; Sams face was there again before her eyes, and with it she heard Nicks voice: There is something you dont know, something you dont remember
Shakily she put down her glass, aware of Tims puzzled eyes upon her. Furiously she tried to get a grip on herself as she realized suddenly that Bill Walton was addressing her while he straightened some papers on his desk.
And were you pleased overall with what you saw this evening, Miss Clifford?
So why now did she have this sudden image of his tense face, his eyes wide with horror, peering at her out of the darkness, and with it the memory of pain
She shrugged off a little shiver, sipping from her glass as she glanced back at Walton. It was about fifteen years ago now-Ive probably forgotten most of what happened.
He nodded slowly without taking his eyes from her face. Then he turned away. Well, it might be interesting to try again, he said thoughtfully. Would you like to?
No! She answered more sharply than she intended. At least, not yet. Perhaps when my research is a bit further advanced Warning bells were ringing in her mind; Sams face was there again before her eyes, and with it she heard Nicks voice: There is something you dont know, something you dont remember
Shakily she put down her glass, aware of Tims puzzled eyes upon her. Furiously she tried to get a grip on herself as she realized suddenly that Bill Walton was addressing her while he straightened some papers on his desk.
And were you pleased overall with what you saw this evening, Miss Clifford?
She swallowed hard. It was fascinating. Very interesting.
But I suspect that you are going to debunk the reincarnation theory in your articles? My wife is a great fan of yours and she tells me your style of journalism can be quite sharp.
Jo grimaced. Shes right. If she told you that its very brave of you to be so open with me.
Why not? Ive nothing to hide. As I told you, the hypnotism is real. The responses are real. I do not seek to explain them. Perhaps you will be able to do that.
He grinned.
Jo found herself smiling back. I doubt it, she said as she picked up her bag, but I daresay Ill give it a try.
Come on, Jo. Theres something wrong, isnt there?
Tim put a double Scotch on the table in front of her and sat himself down in the chair facing her.
Jo summoned up a tired smile. Im exhausted, Tim, thats all. Thisll put me right. She picked up her glass. Thanks for arranging everything this evening.
But Walton worried you, didnt he, and not just because you thought he was a fake.
She shook her head slowly. He wasnt a fake. At least, I dont think so. A telepath perhaps-I dont know- She was silent for a minute. Yes, he did worry me, Tim. The stupid thing is, I dont know why. But its something deep inside me. Something I cant put my finger on, floating at the edge of my mind. Every minute I think Im going to remember what it is, but I cant quite catch it. She took a sip from her glass and grinned suddenly, her face animated. Makes me sound pretty neurotic, doesnt it? No, Tim, Im okay. I think Ive been letting Nick get to me more than I realize, with his fearsome warnings. Hes a bit paranoid about hypnosis. He told me once that he has this fear of losing consciousness-even on the edge of ordinary sleep. I think he thinks hypnosis is the same-like an anesthetic.
And it is true hes been on to his brother about you? Tim asked gently after a pause.
She drew a ring on the table with her finger in some spilled beer. I could kill Judy. She looked up at him again and gave a rueful grimace. I wouldnt be surprised if what she said was true. Nick told me hed been in touch with Sam.
You knew Sam well, of course.
She nodded. He became a friend after- She hesitated. After they tried to hypnotize me, he and his boss, in Edinburgh, that first time. But we were never lovers or anything. The coup de foudre came with his kid brother.
Tim raised an eyebrow. And the foudre has not yet run to earth, has it?
Oh, yes. After last night it has. Finished. Caput. Finis. Bye-bye Nicholas. She bit her lip hard.
Reaching over, Tim touched her hand lightly. Poor Jo. Have another drink. He stood up and picked up her glass without waiting for her reply.
She watched him work his way to the bar, his tall, lanky frame moving easily between the crowded drinkers. She frowned. Tim reminded her of someone she had known when she was a child, but she could not quite remember who. Someone she had liked. She gave a rueful grin. Was that why she could never love him?
She held out her hand for her glass as he returned. Ive just thought of who it is you remind me. She gave a quick gurgle of laughter. Its not someone from one of my previous lives. Its my Uncle Jamess Afghan hound. His name was Zarathustra!
Tim poured himself another whisky as soon as he got in. He had dropped Jo off at her apartment, declining her offer of coffee. Throwing himself down in one of his low-sprung easy chairs, he reached for the phone.
Hi, Nick. Can you talk?
He shifted the receiver to his other hand and picked up his drink. Listen, have you seen Pete Leveson?
He was here earlier. Nick sounded cautious.
Did he manage to call off the press?
Apparently not. Have you warned Jo?
Tim took a long drink from his glass. I was hoping I wouldnt have to. Shit, if he cant do it, no one can. And I dont think Jo has a clue what is in store for her. She doesnt seem to realize anyone else heard at all. As far as she was concerned there were only two people in that room at that moment-Judy and herself. I hope that dolly of yours is really proud of herself. Listen, Nick, what is this about Jo and hypnotism? Is it serious?
Yes. Its serious. So if youve any influence with her, keep her away from it.
We went to see a hypnotist tonight.
Christ!
No, no. Not for Jo. Or at least only for her to watch other people being regressed. It was fascinating, but the fact is that Jo did behave a bit oddly. She didnt seem to be the least bit susceptible herself when he did his tests on everyone at the beginning, but afterward Walton said she was really, but she had been fighting it, and it upset her.
It would. Nicks voice was grim. Look, Tim, is she going to see him again? Or anyone else, do you know?
I dont think so. She did say that maybe shed got enough material to be going on with.
Thank God. Just pray she doesnt feel she needs to pursue any of this further. Sorry, Tim. Judys just coming in. Ive got to go. His voice had dropped suddenly to a whisper.
Tim grinned as he hung up. The henpecked Lothario role did not suit Nick Franklyn one bit.