The Intruder

A game of hypnosis turns into a black magic session. The tall, dark handsome stranger seen in a trance becomes real - who is he? Where did he come from? And what is his purpose?

 

1.

André Vallon sat on the edge of the bed in the guest bedroom in Markham’s house. With shoulders slumped forward, he held his head in his hands, his eyes tightly closed, breathing deeply in an effort to clear his head from all rambling thoughts and emotions. An hour ago Dr Graham thought he had set his patient’s mind at rest by telling him his heart had not caused the fainting spell, that for his age he was as fit as he should be, or could expect to be, so long as he did not overdo the late nights and the alcohol. Dr Graham need not have bothered. André knew it had not been a heart attack, there had been no pain. The fainting spell had happened with no physical warning.

He was uneasy. He knew he would have a restless night with all his senses strained after a hectic day and an even more dramatic evening. His bedroom looked much the same as when he had left it to go to the party, except for the lights. Every light in the room was on. There were no dark corners or shadowy shapes to disturb him, he could see in every nook and cranny. Nothing could move without him seeing it first.

André realised he was sweating. He reached towards the bedside table and picked up the book lying there. He forced his mind away from the room and opened the diary. This was the last in a long line of diaries he had filled over the years, conscientiously writing down his thoughts and impressions wherever he went to remind himself of new experiences. It helped to sort out his feelings and emotions. The diaries were not meant for posterity. They were part of him, part of the way he coped with life - with a diary in his suitcase, he had never needed the services of an analyst because they did the job much better, and more privately.

Yet, only a month ago, he had given two of his earlier diaries to Danielle Maillet, the young journalist back home who was working with him on his biography. James Markham would think him mad, handing over his secrets so readily, allowing them to be read by a young woman he hardly knew. But André trusted Dani. He knew she would delight in them and use them, not only for background material but as a source for further questions, to jog his memory and make the book come to life. She would not abuse them. He had wanted an honest biography, a true story, and if at times the diaries reminded him of past pain, they were true to the man, painting him in a range of colours that did not always show him in the best light. Dani had been surprised when she received them and not a little amazed at his willingness to present his faults as well as his virtues to a public only too willing to act as judge and juror. André did not care about that. If the public didn’t like the real Vallon, it was too late to change how he had lived his life.

What on earth could he write now about the night's events? What could he write that would help him to sort out what had happened downstairs? That he had fainted? Yes, that was straightforward enough, he could write that. But the reason for the faint?

The early part of the evening had gone well. It was the annual party for the music college and he was the guest of honour. James Markham, the college director, was a dear friend of many years standing. Everything had been fine until they adjourned to the music room for the hypnosis that things started to go wrong.

The hypnosis. Instead of charades or a simple party game, the stragglers decided to end the party with a game of hypnosis. André had no objection. He and James Markham had been practising self-hypnosis for years and for André it had been a boon in his stage career, calming nerves and enabling him to relax before performances. That evening young Matt Dennison had offered to do it, having had a few lessons from James, and they had all agreed to it.

Except for Jim, Anna's husband, who elected to sit at the back with André and James, taking no part in the proceedings.

In the music room, they rearranged the furniture and lit candles to add to the atmosphere. André remembered Anna, relaxing on the sofa, her deep blue eyes echoing the silvery blue of her party dress. He admired and appreciated beauty and when, rarely, the possessor of such treasures seemed unaware of them, they became more precious than ever, a thing given to mortals for their pleasure, not their abuse. So beautiful. So unaware of the effect she had. André sighed. Music had been his life, not women, but Anna might have been the exception. She made him feel relaxed and at ease, for the first time in weeks.

Beside Anna sat red-haired vivacious Maggie. So young to hold the position of stage manager but from the little he knew of her, André had no doubt she did the job well. The two young women were friends from way back, as different as chalk from cheese. Pete Clayton, Maggie's partner, sat on her other side, his sandy curls vying for attention with Maggie's crowning glory.

Karl, a new student at Markham's college, sat on the rug by the fire, overwhelmed at his inclusion with this august group, making wisecracks to put himself at ease. Next to him was his friend and mentor, Dave Holland, a third year student who had been quiet and reserved throughout the party, but particularly so in the company of André Vallon, the famous pianist. André smiled to himself. No matter how he tried Dave had not been able to relax, or to forget he was talking to someone who had been a hero to him throughout his childhood. Whenever André spoke to him he became awestruck and speechless. In the end, André had given up.

Last but not least, Matt Dennison, sitting in a chair by the fire, upright and commanding, dark and curly hair, attractive but alone, André remembered. Alone throughout the party, holding his thoughts to himself.

The giggles and the fidgeting had taken a while to subside. The muted splash of the sleet and the pelting hail on the window added their note to the crackle of firewood and provided a rhythm for Matt's intonation. His soothing voice was difficult to resist in the snug warmth of the room. The gentle light from the flames and candles with the sedative effect of the alcohol had Vallon fighting to keep awake. He saw Anna close her eyes and relax, sinking deeper into the soft material of the sofa.

 

2.

“Anna, answer me. Can you hear me?”

Black night encircled Anna. Matt's voice pierced the darkness, diminishing it, but only by a fraction. She struggled to answer against the mounting dread the black silence brought. The hail must have stopped and the fire died down in the last few minutes because it was so quiet. In the silence, Matt's voice seemed distant, far away, and strangely distorted. His tone was clear but the words were not. His voice commanded her, he wanted her to do something but she couldn’t understand the hidden message behind his words. Where was she supposed to be? The darkness and silence building up in front of Matt clouded her thoughts and crept into her mind. Shifting shadows pulsated around him, blending into the darker mass around his body. He was fading into it. Almost obscured by the blackness a sudden movement brought his face into focus. Dark shapes coalesced around him, solidifying into ugly leering faces, saliva dripping from their misshapen mouths. His voice demanded an answer. She heard her name.

“Anna, you must answer me.”

The shapes began to move toward her.

“Yes.” She struggled to speak. “Yes I can hear you.”

Her answer, forced out in desperation, made no difference to the shadows’ advance. Matt could offer no help. He was disappearing before her eyes. Only his face was left in vision now, the outline smudged as the light around him faded and his eyes became dulled and insubstantial. Unable to resist, she was being drawn backwards or forwards in time, her will drained. The chanting voice came to her from a long way away. Another command, another will, encroaching, insistent, seeping into her mind, impelling her to listen and to follow.

Anna knew then she was alone. She had to fight for herself. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate on something else, something to draw her mind away from those dark shapes and shadows. Music might do it, she thought desperately. Music, with its colour and light might fight the shadows. When Vallon walked into the party earlier she had imagined how Jim, her husband, could have been as famous, as good. She could imagine him now, playing on stage with the audience at his feet and the power of music in his hands.

 

Maggie breathed an audible sigh of relief when Anna spoke. This was supposed to be a simple party game. She wasn’t convinced by Matt's explanation that Anna must have gone into a deep trance straightaway. First he had talked to her, then at her, then shouted. He hadn't panicked, his shouting was measured and done for a purpose, and he seemed calm and confident but Maggie felt uneasy.

The hypnosis game had worked for everyone but Maggie. Initially disappointed, she resigned herself to watching everyone else, even giggling when she saw Matt sticking needles into the other three without any apparent physical hurt or distress. Pete, thank God, had come out of the trance quite easily with no ill effects, but Dave had been difficult to rouse. Maggie thought he still looked dazed. That left Anna still in a trance. Matt's excitement at the depth of her trance contrasted sharply with Maggie's concern, and it was her worry that communicated itself to everyone else. A general feeling of unease spread through the group. Anna's husband, Jim, lost his patience. He paced up and down, glaring at Matt, his face white with anger. After Anna's whispered answer, Maggie looked again to Matt. The sweep of his hand across his forehead showed tension although he still smiled. Maggie shivered. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

Maggie took hold of Anna's hand. Matt glanced at her.

“It might help,” she said.

Matt's brief explanation at the beginning hadn’t prepared Maggie for this. He'd said, authoritatively, that trance states form the basis of all hypnosis and could range from a very light suggestible state to a much deeper catatonic condition. It was the word 'catatonic' that concerned Maggie now. All Matt was supposed to do, all he said he was going to do, was induce a light trance.

Maggie sat on the edge of her seat. She felt Pete get up from her side and saw him go over to Jim who was now muttering under his breath. Jim brushed Pete's hand away angrily, but at least he stopped pacing. Maggie, left on her own, was frightened. The fire blazed in the hearth but a terrible cold draught swirled around her legs and ankles. A gust of wind outside made her jump as it rattled the window panes and the light from the candles flickered. No one interrupted, no one spoke.

“Don't you think you should bring her back?” Maggie asked.

“I'll have to find out how deep a trance she’s in,” Matt said calmly.

Maggie's troubled gaze wandered over to Dave. Although Anna was unresponsive she did at least answer a few questions whereas Dave, sitting on the floor next to his friend Karl, had begun rocking backwards and forwards, fear encompassing his features. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Anna.

“I want you to open your eyes Anna, and tell me what you see,” Matt said.

Anna's face was blank and veiled. Matt looked down to the floor as if in inspiration then he tried again, his voice louder and more forceful. Anna's body stiffened and her eyes flew open. She screwed her face up, staring hard at Matt as if she had difficulty focussing on him. Her face was drenched in sweat. Maggie's heightened senses heard the wind rattling against the window and she thought, irrelevantly, that it made a fitting accompaniment to their antics. Dave's sudden movement attracted her attention again. Now crouching, he looked quickly from Anna to Matt and back again and lost his balance when his arm reached out over his head as if to fend something away.

Matt repeated his question to Anna, measuring each word and stressing each syllable.

Suddenly Anna's gaze focussed on him and she became animated again. She moved forward, sitting upright on the front of the sofa, looking casually and calmly around the room. Every now and then her gaze stilled and she bowed her head and smiled, as if in greeting, though her eyes didn’t rest on anyone in the room. The effect was eerie. Then she settled herself in her seat, hands folded gently in her lap with her back straight.

“Well, the theatre's full,” Anna said, an edge of excitement in her voice. “Maggie will be pleased.''

“She's at the theatre,” Maggie shouted, unable to restrain herself, wanting to break the tension. She looked across at Vallon and Markham. The college director looked far from pleased. Maggie turned back to Matt.

“Ask her if it’s a play or a concert,” she said, “It might be Monsieur Vallon.”

Anna, lost in her own world, didn't hear Maggie. “The performance is about to start,” she said. “I don't recognise anyone in the audience.” She paused. "I can see the conductor though, it’s Ternini. This must be a very special performance.”

“What concert is it?” Matt asked.

Anna looked puzzled. “That's strange,” she said. “A Special Performance? Why... it's Jim on the stage, and everyone is cheering and applauding.” In her trance she saw the house lights go down and heard the rustle of the audience as they settled in their places. She felt proud, and pleased, to be sitting in the guest box, watching her husband on the stage. All the sacrifices and hand-to-mouth existence had been worth it after all. She realised Matt had spoken. He was sitting beside her in the guest box but in her excitement she hadn’t caught his words.

“Sorry Matt, I didn't hear you.”

Matt repeated the question, his voice loud against the roar of the storm outside.

“You said, 'a very special performance.' Who is it?”

“It's...” Anna began, then faltered. Of course it wasn't Jim. It couldn't be. He wasn't interested in music any more. He'd thrown it all away, spurned James Markham’s help and support. “It must be Vallon,” she murmured but her tone was less than convincing. She leaned forward in her chair to look more closely, holding her hand to her eyes as if she held opera glasses. “Perhaps it's the lights,” she continued, “I could have sworn...” Her puzzlement showed clearly in her voice and face. She saw the man on stage changing in front of her eyes. His back straightened and his arms lengthened. The creases in his face smoothed out and the skin became taut. The white hair grew darker.

Anna laughed. “It was a trick of the light,” she exclaimed. “It is Jim after all.” Like it should have been, she thought, if... if all the dreams had come true. Jim performing, the audience at his feet, dedicated, living for his music. She strained in her seat to capture the image more precisely but the features of the pianist, caught in the glare of the lights, glowed against the dark curtains beyond. She knew from experience the effect of stage lighting on the face and this was all wrong. The white hair turned to gold, then to brown, became almost black.

“It isn't Jim,” she decided, sadness in her voice. “The hair's too dark...” The features were too classical, too perfect. Jim's eyes were blue, not the electric green that stared back at her. She caught her breath. “And the music isn't right.” She couldn’t look away. She wanted to drown in the sea of green. “The piece is familiar but I don’t know it...” With a great effort she twisted away, remembering Matt beside her.

“Matt,” she whispered, “What is that music? I can't place it.”

Back in the music room, the laughter that followed Anna's question was the loud laughter that comes from nerves and tension. Matt waited for it to subside.

“I can't place it either. Can you see who is performing?”

“No, “Anna replied shortly. “Too bright.” Those eyes like emeralds, white hands...”

The white hands of the pianist floated in front of her eyes and moved effortlessly over the keys, filling the auditorium with music. And she knew he was playing for her, that his soul yielded to the music so she could catch it and hold it, and nothing mattered, nothing else was as important as this melody of the soul, created only for her. It subdued all other sound and cancelled out thoughts as it rose in pitch and soared upwards, creating substance out of ether. Notes of music caressed the air like sparks of light and the darkness faded away as his hands flew over the keys. Young hands, strong hands in the act of creation. So far away but she could see every vein and muscle, every nerve and fibre. She listened as the music formed shapes within colours, creating strange mystical words. Unspoken words formed the chords and chased the darkness away.

Anna's body moved in rhythm to the music only she could hear, her face bright with attention and her eyes filled with tears. Maggie knew then that Matt had lost control. The other guests stayed absolutely still. Jim, his face tense with anger, clenched his fists tightly. He might have moved had Pete not restrained him.

“Anna, you must answer me. Look at me.”

Anna heard but couldn't understand the command. She knew she ought to respond but the music was so much a part of her and so beautiful. She wanted to know who the pianist was but in her heart she knew the answer. He had driven the shadows away with his music. She wanted to be with him, to look more closely into those green eyes framed with dark lashes, to be next to him...

Movement at her side distracted her. She looked away from the stage to where Matt had been sitting at the start of the concert. The seat was empty. For a tiny fraction of time she forgot that the musician and his music were there for a purpose.  Aware her concentration had faltered she glanced quickly back to the stage but the music had changed. It clamoured for her attention as if it were alive. The beautiful colours and sparks of light now struggled against discordant notes which screeched for her attention as the musician fought the battle against darkness. It closed in again and the pianist's hands faded as streaks of black and crimson encroached from the sides of the stage.

In the room the candles flickered and the flames of the fire lost their glow. For a split second the noise of the wind dropped leaving an absolute silence. Gradually, so no one was aware of its re-emergence, faint notes could be heard on the rising breeze. As the force of the wind increased in intensity, carrying before it the wild chords, the warmth from the fire diminished completely. In its place, a biting cold.

 

Anna saw the terrifying darkness growing rapidly within the auditorium. The white hands of the pianist, so far successful in keeping it at bay, lost their power and melted into the darkness. Anna stared down a long tunnel with no light at the end. Something was happening at the side of the stage, shapes forming in black and red, staining the corner of her vision. She dare not look any longer. Her only chance was to focus again on the music which might bring the pianist and his wild symphony back.

She did not feel herself being roughly shaken or hear the stern command of James Markham warning Jim to leave her alone. Jim finally managed to force himself to move in the strange stillness that gripped everyone. In that cold eerie moment Pete forgot to restrain him. Anna's lack of response and withdrawal were bad enough but that too had changed. She was twisting about on the sofa, holding her hands out in front of her as if for protection and squeezing her eyes shut. Jim couldn't stand it any longer. He left Pete's side, brushing violently against Markham in his hurry to get to his wife. He pushed Matt to one side but Maggie reached out and drew him away at Markham's command.

“You do it then, it was your blasted idea,” Jim shouted but he moved away from Anna because of the authority in James' tone. Instead he turned to Matt and grasped him roughly by the arm. Matt shrugged away from him.

“If you do anything like that again, I won't be able to do anything,” Matt shouted back. “You could have done some real damage.”

“If you knew what you were doing in the first place,” Jim retorted.

“I know exactly what I'm doing.”

“Be quiet.” James' voice brooked no argument. He moved swiftly to Jim and took him gently by the arm. He lowered his voice but still spoke firmly. “You must allow Matt some peace. He’s the only one she can hear and he does know what he’s doing. Please, sit down.” He indicated a chair for Jim then nodded to Matt.

Matt sighed and turned back to Anna. He knelt down in front of her and, brushing long strands of dark hair away from her face, took her hands in his.

“Anna. Anna, I want you to relax. You’re safe. You can hear only my words, see only me. Nothing can hurt you, you are safe, you must relax. I’m going to count to five and you’ll wake up when I reach that number. Do you understand?”

There was no response. Matt looked over his shoulder towards James who was hugging himself against the penetrating cold.

“Keep that tone. She will hear you. Talk louder so you can be heard above the storm.”

Matt tried again. “Anna, listen to me. Listen only to me. You are safe and warm. I want you to relax, to listen to me. You must do as I say. I’m going to count to five. Listen to the numbers, they’re very important, they’re all that matter. Do you understand?”

“I can't make out the shape...”

“The shape is not important, it’s going. It’s fading. You can see only me. I want you to open your eyes, Anna, and you’ll see I’m here. Open your eyes, Anna, look at me.”

Anna slowly and reluctantly opened her eyes. For a moment they remained unfocussed. Then she screamed, her pupils contracting in terror. Before Matt could respond, the candles flickered and died. A howling wind tore into the room, grabbing at clothes and hair, raising papers and glasses with it. Matt grabbed for the arm of the sofa to prevent himself being carried along. He screamed at Anna to make himself heard above the noise of the screeching wind. It filled his mouth with a stinking odour. He had to turn his head away to get the words out.

“Anna, what is it? Tell me what you see.”

“Red and black, red and black, red and black...”

The wind tore at his clothing and his face, his hands felt as though they were being wrenched from his grip on the sofa. It was impossible to see what the others were doing or what was happening to them.

Dave, by the fire, stared wildly. His eyes moved from Anna's face and across the room, slowly, in horror, as if he were watching a presence invisible to everyone else. Something else caught his attention. He turned towards André Vallon who now sat alone, his fingers gripping the table in front of him. Amongst the roar of the wind and the stinking smell there came a loud crack and the sound of glass smashing. Matt held on with all his strength and screamed at Anna, trying to interrupt her dreadful chanting, unaware that with that last crash of glass, the wind was beginning to lose its force.

“Anna, you have to listen to me. It's fading. Do you see? Look, look very carefully. No red, no black, it's dying away now. Only peaceful colours, blues and greens, calm and peaceful. You are feeling very relaxed, very calm.”

Anna slumped back into the sofa, her eyes closed normally as if in sleep. Karl, hanging on to the iron grate, looked up in disbelief as the wind suddenly died and the unearthly cold was replaced by the blazing heat of the fire. He let go quickly, shaking his fingers and blowing on them. He reached out to haul Dave, who had been thrown against the side of the grate, back toward him. Jim muttered ‘Thank God’ under his breath, and Maggie silently seconded it. Then Pete shouted to James Markham. He was standing by Vallon's chair, where the old man was slumped across the table. James rushed over, switching on the main lights on the way.

“He collapsed when the window broke,” Pete explained, “I think it might be a heart attack.”

James examined his friend. He felt his pulse and listened to his breathing, then searched through Vallon's pockets until he found a small medicine bottle. “I think he'll be alright. These pills are for his heart. Help me...”

With Pete's help, James managed to insert a small capsule into Vallon's mouth, then they lifted him on to the floor. James asked Pete to call for the doctor. Vallon stirred, and opened his eyes. “Too much whisky,” he said, managing a frail smile. With Jim's assistance they helped him to a comfortable chair and supplied him with a glass of water, which did not please him too well.

Maggie looked around her. Markham's beautiful music room was unrecognisable. Small tables and ornaments overturned, bottles of wine and spirits smashed over the rugs, pools of alcohol discolouring the pattern. Pictures hung askew and the deep red curtains hung from their rails in tatters. Everyone looked at each other silently, wiping their faces and smoothing down their clothes.

Matt still knelt beside Anna, his dark hair in tangles, his fingers still gripping the chair so the knuckles showed white. He continued his monologue, perhaps to ensure it really was over. Jim stood beside him, watching and waiting.

“Blues and greens Anna. Relax, everything is peaceful. You are safe.”

 

“Yes, safe,” Anna agreed. Matt let go of the chair and settled back on his heels, his shoulders slumped in relief. He blew on his fingers to try and get the warmth back into them.

“Safe and warm,” Anna continued, “and what a beautiful room, such lovely flowers.”

Jim groaned. Matt stared at Anna, mouth still pursed from blowing. “Anna? Where are you?” he asked sharply.

Her voice was dreamy. “Very calm. I feel very calm. But what a lot of people.” The room was bright with lights and full of people chattering and the sound of glasses clinking together. “It's a party!” she cried in delight.

Matt ignored Jim's angry voice, demanding he bring her out of the trance. He began again, calmly explaining to Anna the session was now over. “Anna, it's time to go home. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but it's such a lovely party,” she complained.

“But there’ll be many others.” Matt spoke the formula for ending the trance and this time she responded, her face and body visibly relaxing. James walked over to Matt and touched him on the shoulder.

“It might be a good idea to implant the suggestion that she feels relaxed and happy. Tell her she’ll only notice her friends then she might not notice the state of the room. It may frighten, or worry her. You might also offer the suggestion she forget whatever it was she saw in that trance.”

Matt glanced up puzzled. Only then did he notice the condition of the room. He drew his breath in sharply and with a final look at Markham, incorporated the suggestion into his speech. He didn't see Dave respond to his words, only Maggie did. She saw his whole body slump as he let go of his own vision of the trance. He rubbed his face and eyes, smearing away the tears that fell. Maggie felt it would be better not to intrude.

 

 

That night Anna had the first dream. She saw again the blue and green party room decked with flowers and filled with laughing people. She moved among the revellers, bowing and smiling at people, yet somehow apart from them all. Then the famous pianist, André Vallon, stepped out in front of her. Her way was blocked. Old and tired blue eyes greeted her. He smiled gently and waved some small coloured sheets of paper in front of her eyes. She reached out and took them.

“A Very Special Performance,” Vallon said, then stepped back and made a formal bow. His smile was sad. She looked away from him to the papers in her hand. Printed across them in large blue letters were the words Vallon had spoken.

“But they've got your name wrong,” Anna protested. “It's all muddled.” When she looked up, no one was there. Vallon had disappeared. She whirled round to look for him.

Matt Dennison, her fellow tutor at the music college, appeared at her side. He wasn’t alone. She could see wraith-like shadows around his head, enclosed in a funnel of mist. With a silver medallion in his hand to remind her of his role as hypnotiser, he gazed intently at her. Glints of light caught the long silver chain in diamond bright sparks as the medallion swung smoothly in a gentle curve. She couldn't move. The images around Matt were so insubstantial that when she looked directly at them, she couldn't see them at all. Only out of the corner of her eye when she looked away could she see them. The swirling white vapour grew thicker, a glint of silver in its depths. She found she could move again but only very slowly as though in a trance.

The mist parted before her. Another figure loomed in front. Blending in with the shapes and the mist, moving and writhing within it until he became part of the vapour itself, was Dave Holland. As she watched, his flesh reformed and became solid again and he advanced towards her, his face twisted in an obscene leer, his mouth wide, grinning in expectation. She backed away, stumbling over chairs and furniture.

Then Vallon was beside her again. He drew her to one side and introduced her to someone, a pianist, he said, but she couldn't see who it was. His face and head were in shadow but when the light shifted Anna caught a glimpse of emerald eyes and dark wayward hair. When she held out her hand she felt a strong warm hand grasp hers, and hold it for longer than was necessary. Then he raised her hand to his lips and she felt his warm breath on her fingers. Someone was laughing, she could hear the laughter all around her and it wouldn't stop...

 

3.

Maggie poured water from the boiling kettle into the mugs, filled them to the top and stirred a large spoonful of instant coffee into each. She was in a bad mood. There was something about having to work on a Sunday that Maggie hated. The thought of all those other people who could lie in bed all morning did nothing to improve her temper. This was one of those times when her choice of career really galled. It had many positive things to recommend it but working in other people's leisure time was not one of them.

She yawned loudly and shuffled over to the breakfast table. Pete sat there, fiddling with a spoon in a bowl of untouched cereal, his head resting on his hand. He had managed to get out of bed but had done very little else. Maggie leaned backwards in her chair and switched on the radio for the morning news bulletin.

“Turn that off.” Pete immediately wished he hadn't shouted. He covered his ears with his hands. Maggie obliged.

“Huh, some sound engineer you're going to be today.”

Pete ignored the sarcasm. He groaned. Maggie passed the cup of coffee over.

“You overdid it a bit last night,” she said.

“I don't want to talk about it. I don't in fact, want to talk.”

“You're not having another day off.”

“I daren't have another day off, I'll get the sack.”

Pete gingerly took a sip of his coffee. It burnt his tongue but woke him up a little more. He tried a mouthful of cereal but the milk left a sour taste in his mouth. The day was not starting off very well. The annoying thing was that Maggie looked perfectly well, completely unaffected by all the alcohol she had consumed. He remembered she had appropriated the bottle of wine he’d hidden and shared it with Anna. Then he remembered more.

“I imagined all that last night, didn't I?” He looked at Maggie hopefully. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged as she pushed a last piece of toast, plastered with marmalade, into her mouth. Pete's stomach contracted. “It didn't happen,” he went on, “I drank too much.”

“Yes you did, and yes, it did happen,” Maggie said. She gathered her plates together, put them in the sink and went off in the direction of the bathroom.

“What? All of it?” Pete shouted in her wake, forgetting for the moment that loud noises hurt. He stood up and followed Maggie to the bathroom and leaned against the door frame. She ignored him and after washing, started to apply make-up.

“All of it?” Pete repeated.

“Depends what you mean.”

“Vallon fainting. Anna. The wind. That foul smell. The furniture.”

“All in the imagination,” Maggie said.

“Thought so,” Pete replied. “I knew it couldn't have happened.” He walked back to the kitchen.

Maggie stopped in the act of applying lipstick and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“Mass hypnosis,” she said, to the woman staring back at her. “We all imagined it.”

 

4.

Jim went downstairs to surprise Anna with breakfast in bed. He took his time in the kitchen, making toast for himself and a pot of coffee to take upstairs. The watery sun shining in the kitchen window did nothing to lighten his mood and even in the pale morning light his mind churned with images of the fiasco caused by Matt Dennison. If he hadn’t intervened when he had, regardless of James’ warning and Dennison’s shouting, there was no telling what might have happened. Dennison had no right to take advantage of the situation or put Anna at risk to satisfy his own curiosity.

The subject of hypnosis worried Jim. The idea of playing with such a delicate instrument as the mind when there was still so much science didn’t know about the way it functioned was for him a frightening prospect. Jim had reason to be cautious. Like Dennison, James Markham had taught Jim a few simple tricks and techniques of self-hypnosis years ago, to enhance his concentration on the road to a promising career in music. The musical career had long since bitten the dust but some of the techniques still came in useful in his present business, such as the instant ability to relax. But he remembered worrying episodes when he was learning the techniques, like the times when he become forgetful, or found himself in places with no memory of going there. Perhaps he was overly susceptible to it, perhaps Anna was too. Perhaps there had been more to it than only hypnosis.

The egg-timer rang. Jim spooned the egg from the pan and put it on the prepared tray with toast, a glass of fresh orange juice and the pot of coffee. To add a finishing touch he placed a napkin at the side of the plate and a small vase with a sprig of winter jasmine in it.

When he returned to the bedroom Anna was still asleep. He placed the breakfast tray on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently stroking the dark strands of hair away from her face. She stirred slowly from her sleep, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed clothes and Jim’s gentle touch. The startling blue of her eyes, framed within dark lashes made her seem more awake than she really was but her sleepy smile gave the lie to this. It was the smell of coffee that finally brought her round. She sat up, pummelling the pillows into a comfortable shape to lean against, then accepted the tray from Jim, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. He returned to his own side of the bed and snuggled in next to her.

Anna lifted her head from the pillow to take a sip of juice. The room swayed suddenly, making her feel faint and light-headed. The glass would have slipped from her hand had Jim not reached out automatically to steady it. At the note of concern in his voice, Anna smiled apologetically, remembering with embarrassment that she had drunk too much and would probably pay for it with a hangover. She moved her head experimentally to see if a headache was lurking there and smelled the coffee to see if it would make her feel sick. She felt fine. In fact, she felt wonderful, better than she had done in weeks.

Jim was talking. “I thought, if we got all the tidying up done quickly, we could...”

Anna’s mind wandered. Jim’s voice fell gently on her ears, the rhythm and lilt of it taking her by surprise. It sounded deeper somehow - deeper, but with a strange edge to it. Had she ever really listened to his voice? He was talking about everyday things but the tone and pitch of his speech conveyed far more meaning, far more love than he could ever have put into words.

Her eyes were playing tricks with her too. Jim, and the whole room, seemed edged with light. She had seen that aura of brightness somewhere before but she couldn’t remember where. She was so taken up with the strangeness she failed to notice when Jim stopped speaking. She couldn’t work it out. She felt odd, no headache or sickness, not like a normal hangover. And she didn’t really feel faint either, it was more shock at the light-headedness. Faintness would have brought darkness with it.

Instead, her senses seemed heightened. Somehow she was aware of everything in the room all at the same time. Every object seemed imbued with a special light of its own and when she reached out to touch them, trying first the alarm clock, then a book on the bedside table, they crackled as though charged with electricity. The quality and depth of sound, touch, taste and smell assailed her, showing aspects of the room she hadn’t noticed before.

And Jim. Jim was lying back on the bed beside her, his arms behind his head and eyes closed. Anna examined again the light that seemed to surround him, enveloping his body but not obscuring it and with some surprise, realised that some of those pulsating patterns of light were telling her in a far more subtle language than words could ever express, exactly how he was feeling towards her.

When she rose from the bed she moved in a daze. Attempting to do a simple task, like choosing which clothes to wear or simply having a wash, required a tremendous effort of will to cross the barriers of light that crackled and sparkled when she approached each object.

In the kitchen downstairs when she plunged her hands into the washing-up bowl to clean the breakfast pots she stopped, fascinated by the play of light on the ripples of water, her senses stunned by the rainbow of colours in each bubble. She watched as one bubble floated on currents of air in front of her, then broke into a myriad water droplets so fine and insubstantial,  each with its own spectrum of rainbow light.

Her behaviour didn’t go unnoticed. Jim’s hands around her waist and his chin pressing on her shoulder broke into her meditation. She smiled at him over her shoulder and surprised a look of concern on his face which he quickly tried to hide with a hug and a joke. He didn’t know it, but with her heightened awareness, it was impossible for him to hide anything from her. His worry and concern were reflected in the light emanating from him and she could feel warmth and love enveloping her. He knew something was wrong. Mingled with those rays of love were other rays of anger and distrust that had no specific direction of their own. Instinctively Anna knew those other rays had been aroused in him by the actions of others, in particular, she guessed, by Matt, whom he had avoided towards the end of the party.

Anna turned round and hugged her husband melting into the warmth of his aura. It was easy to forget after years of taking each other’s presence for granted that they had married because they loved each other. Back then she knew his feelings without actions and words and it had taken this strange shift of perception to bring it back to her.

“Anna? Are you alright? You don’t seem...”

“Hangover I should think.” She started to giggle then realised how serious he was. She hadn’t hidden the weird changes very well after all. He obviously thought she was still dazed from the hypnosis and was beginning to get angry with Matt again.

“I’m fine, really,” she said brightly, kissing his cheek. "I thought I’d have a terrible hangover but I feel wide awake and ready for anything. This must be a different sort of hangover than the ones you normally get.”

“If only they were all like that.”

“No, we’d all be drinking like fishes to feel good the day after.”

Jim smiled and picked up the dishcloth and Anna saw, with her special awareness, that he had calmed down and was happier. She joined in with him in discussing plans for the day and made a special effort to try and respond naturally. She wanted desperately to talk to him, to shout about how good it felt and how marvellous the world had become but she knew he wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t see it as something special. He would only blame it on Matt.

Anna paused. Blame it on Matt? How on earth could Matt have anything to do with this? Perhaps the hypnosis did have something to do with her changed perceptions. The problem was, she had no recollection of any part of it.

When the effects remained the same throughout the day Anna became more and more certain that the hypnosis had awoken an unused part of her mind. She questioned Jim lightly about it but saw the block there immediately and knew the moment was not right to pursue it. She controlled her impatience and decided to wait until she could talk about it with Maggie, or Matt.

It wasn’t easy to hold back. She wanted to share this wonderful feeling. The world was a better place, a much sweeter, happier place. Poor old Jim would never be able to hide his feelings from her ever again. Perhaps, given time, she could explain to him what had happened and describe the strange sensations she was experiencing. Perhaps, over time it would become the normal way of experiencing the world around her, a way of understanding the people she met.

Would she be able to read James Markham’s mind by the light he shed? Would she get an answer to the question that had plagued her for the last three years? Had James taken her on as a tutor at the college as a means of financial support for Jim, his favourite pupil, instead of offering out and out charity? Jim, subsequently, had thrown away all the advice and support when he decided he was no longer interested in music. The accountancy business he now led was successful and her meagre tutor’s income was no longer of vital importance. James could hardly sack her because she had no need to earn a living.

Anna laughed to herself. No, this was too good to be true.

 

5.

Karl Diemann woke up in bed in his digs nursing the worst hangover he had ever experienced. The curtains were drawn tightly together and the blinds underneath had been pulled right down so not one speck of light showed through to seep into his hurting eyes and drumming head. He spent the morning in bed with blankets pulled over his head, listening to the throbbing of his heart as it pumped blood through the arteries right inside his skull. He lay as still as possible to avoid making his heart beat faster and louder.

It was only in the late afternoon when the worst of the headache had disappeared that other aches and pains made their presence felt. It took a while for awareness of this to seep in and for the realisation to hit him that something else was wrong. There was something wrong with his hands. Karl thought about it carefully. His hands were definitely hurting. He crept carefully from the bed, holding his throbbing head as steady as he could, and made his way over to the curtains. Moving one aside with the back of his hand, he lifted a corner of the blind.

A mote of light fell on his hand. Open-mouthed, he stared then whimpered in pain and disbelief. The surface area of the palm and the inside of his fingers were red and blistering, with pus seeping through, already forming dried crusts in the lines of his hands. Trembling and wrestling with the pain, he pushed at his sleeves to see how far the blisters extended. They stopped in an angry red line just below the wrist.

Karl swore. He wasn’t much given to swearing but this seemed an appropriate occasion. He was a music student, for heaven’s sake. How on earth was he going to play the guitar, his instrument of choice, with hands as sore as that? Maybe he would be able to manage the piano, he thought, but the idea was dismissed quickly. Playing the piano with fingertips alone? Even the fingertips were too sore. And even worse, how was he going to manage at the theatre tonight? Maggie Ryan had only agreed to take him on part-time as an extra stage hand and he needed the income to supplement his grant. The job entailed fairly heavy work, shifting scenery and furniture around or running errands for whoever asked. Maggie wasn’t going to think he was very reliable if he didn’t turn up.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. What the hell had happened at that party? He vaguely remembered the hypnosis session, at least, the beginning of it and yes, it was coming back. He remembered hanging on to the dog irons of the fireplace for some stupid reason. Who, in their right mind, would hang on to a fire?

It was no good. He would have to do something. The pain was driving him mad. He remembered from some first aid class that cold water was advisable in the case of burns but it took a lot of effort to turn the tap on in the sink with his wrists alone. When he plunged his hands into the water the pain made him scream. He pulled them out fast, slopping water all over the floor. He stumbled back to the bed and threw himself down on top of the covers.

Later, when he felt a bit better, Karl walked over to the window again and risked opening the curtains and blinds. He hunted around for a change of clothes but when he started to undress he received his next shock. Bruises covered his arms and upper body. There were some smallish ones on his legs and another enormous one on his thigh. He couldn’t remember receiving them but didn’t think he’d fallen into a ditch or got into a fight. In the mirror he noticed another small bruise and a graze on his cheekbone. He had, after all, woken up in bed, at home but he couldn’t remember leaving the party. Had he walked home with Dave?

He needed to talk with Dave. Vague memories of the previous night stirred in the back of his mind. They had very little to do with hypnosis and were far more akin to black magic and the supernatural. He didn’t know much about that and didn’t want to think too deeply about it but Dave would know. Dave knew about these things. He and Matt Dennison were regular visitors to Helden’s shop on the High Street which sold new age stuff. Dave had loads of books on the subject too. Had he and Matt concocted something up between them? There had been a funny smell, he remembered, and a wind. A wind? Inside the room? A wind so strong it had thrown people and furniture around?

Dave didn’t have a phone, unfortunately and Karl didn’t feel up to calling round to his flat. He didn’t feel up to facing the world at all in his present condition. He debated whether he should call in sick at college tomorrow but he threw that idea out. Dave would be there, that was for sure. Dave never missed college, he was dedicated, and if the only way to find out what had happened was to go and see Dave, then he would have to go to college.

In the meantime he would have to do something about his hands. He needed some ointment, something soothing, or better still, something that would block the pain completely. Getting some explanations together in his head, he opened the door of his flat and walked downstairs to see if his landlady had anything in the way of a total anaesthetic.

 

6.

When he glanced at the alarm clock André Vallon was surprised to see it was already nine o’ clock. He resisted the urge to throw the clock across the room and pull the blankets back over his head to chase the sleep that had eluded him for most of the night. He must have dozed at some stage for the time to have passed. He could remember looking at the clock, on the hour, every hour, until at least six o’ clock.

Grumbling, he disentangled himself from the sheets and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. His mind seemed numb. Had James got another full day planned for him? Details escaped him. He was not the least bit interested. What he would really like to do would be to spend some time at the piano, on his own, in his own company, playing what he liked. Preferably  in James’ absence. The last few days had been a strain, trying to keep up with James while trying to find some time for himself in the face of James’ determination to keep him occupied and amused. James was pleasant, but domineering. He had always been domineering. He liked to have everything organised. André didn’t like to be organised especially since his retirement. He preferred spontaneity.

In the middle of the room he stopped dead. All the lights in the room were on. The main light in the centre of the ceiling, both bedside lights and a standard lamp in the opposite corner. On the small table next to the bed a lamp glowed brightly. A feeling of dread overtook him. He remembered why he had switched them on. 

When André came downstairs, James was already seated at the breakfast table with a cup of black coffee at the side of his empty plate. He noticed James’ look of surprise at his appearance. He had dressed hurriedly and knew he was not as well-groomed as usual.

“You don’t look as though you’ve had a very comfortable night,” James remarked. He stood up and held out a chair. “Would you like some fruit juice, or some coffee?”

“Coffee. Black please.” He sat down heavily. “James, I’ve made a decision.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going back home today. I’ve already made arrangements.”

“But why?" James interrupted, taken by surprise. “I thought you were staying at least another week or two? Is something wrong? Have you had some bad news? Mrs Gregory didn’t say anything.”

“No, James, nothing has happened. I want to go back... home. I think my age is telling on me. I feel homesick.” He managed a small laugh to hide the fact he wasn’t telling the truth. He didn’t want to tell his old friend that the atmosphere in the house was overwhelming.  He didn’t want to tell this friend of a life-time that he felt uneasy, scared and frightened. It wasn’t only the events at the party that worried him. Something else was happening to him, now, in this house, and he needed to get away. He had the strongest sensation that if he didn’t leave in a hurry there would be no protection for him. He didn’t want to think what the protection might be against.

“Of course, you must leave if that is what you want to do.”

It was clear James was shocked and hurt by his sudden announcement but he could find no words to make it better. He could not, would not back down.

“Is it really necessary to leave so quickly?” James asked.

“I’m sorry James. I have to go. I just have to go. There are all sorts of things I should be doing. It isn’t you, believe me, it’s... You’ve spent a lot of time looking after me and planning things for my enjoyment. I’ve enjoyed the visits to your college, listening to the students. I really am grateful, you really couldn’t have done anything more. But I... I feel tired, and homesick.”

“It was the party, wasn’t it?” James said.

André nodded, grateful to James for giving him another excuse.

“Partly. I think I’m more tired than I realised. That fainting spell... well, it was nothing. I mean, I feel fine physically, but it was a warning, I think. I’ve been overdoing it. Don’t forget, I’m retired now. I’m not used to doing things at full speed like you.”

James smiled at the compliment it was meant to be and the tension between them lessened. André relaxed a little more but his determination to leave remained the same.

“It was Stanton, wasn’t it?” James said. “He hung around all evening, refusing to leave you alone.”

“No, don’t worry about him. Gilbert Stanton is a bore, always has been, but he’s doesn’t bother me.” Gilbert Stanton was the chairman of the Board of Governors of the Music College and James the director. Both James and André had known him for many years. André could take him or leave him but didn’t much like him. “He was proud to be there, showing me off, I suppose. No, really, James, it’s only me. I’m tired.” When James nodded sympathetically, André hurried on. “I packed all my things before I came down. There’s a flight after 2 o’clock which I could catch if I hurry. If I could use your chauffeur?”

“Of course. I’ll phone through and ask him to get the car ready. But really André, are you sure you won’t stay a little longer? I hadn’t realised I was pushing you so hard. We could spend the next few days at home quietly, talking and reminiscing. There’s no need to go out and keep busy if you’d prefer not to. You should have said something earlier.”

“I would have said something earlier, James, if I’d realised what was happening. But I didn’t realise. I was enjoying it. I wouldn’t have wanted you to change any of your plans. This feeling has crept up on me unawares. I need to get back, I feel I’ve been away too long. And there is Dani too...”

“Dani?”

“The young woman who is writing my biography.”

“Ah yes, I remember.”

“She expected me back by the end of January at the latest but she knew I hadn’t made any definite plans. I promised to get in touch as soon as I returned but even so, she wasn’t happy. She said she’d gone through all the newspapers and a couple of my diaries and was itching to get back to our discussions.”

“You’re quite taken with this young lady, aren’t you?”

“I enjoy her company and I hope she enjoys mine. She brings youth back, she is so full of life and sunshine.” André smiled brightly, willing to be side-tracked. “She’s easy to talk to and sympathetic, and most of all she wants to write my book for me, as I might have written it, if I had the talent. She’s not always as cautious as I might have been.”

“Meaning?”

“She says what she thinks and doesn’t hide what she sees as the truth. I think people who read the book might be shocked.”

“Does that worry you?”

“No. I like to shock. But only when it really is the truth. If she writes the truth, and it shocks, then that pleases me. People are too comfortable with their moralities. I wouldn’t be pleased if she wrote only to shock and twisted things for that end.”

“How do you know she won’t? You’re very famous. The public like to hear such things about their idols.”

“She won’t. I trust her.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone to write my biography. Not without a contract that says I can oversee the work and make any alteration I please.”

“I know. But then we are different kinds of people.”

“I think you may regret your trust. Writers are out to make a living like the rest of us. Scandals sell books.”

“Mythical ones don’t. People will know whether she writes the truth.”

“André, you haven’t changed,” James said smiling. “You’re still taken in by a pretty woman, still willing to believe everyone is as honest and as trusting as you are.”

“Well, why not? It would be a miserable existence to go round thinking everyone is out for what they can get. Life would be boring and monotonous. I like to be surprised.”

“I think you will be.”

“Not by Dani. She has a heart of gold, and so have you, James. I’m sorry to let you down.”

“I understand, André. Don’t worry, I get homesick too. I’ll go and get Dennis up with the car and we’ll get you packed off. By the time you’ve finished breakfast, he’ll be ready and waiting. We’ll arrange another time, perhaps in the summer, for me to come over to France to see you.”

“Thank you James.”

André poured himself another cup of black coffee and buttered a slice of toast even though he didn’t feel hungry. He had done rather well in persuading James of his need to leave England and hoped he hadn’t upset his friend too much. The conversation hadn’t been easy because André didn’t find it easy to lie. Yet he had lied, while they were talking about honesty. He consoled himself with the thought it was better to lie than to offend his friend with the real thoughts that lay heavy on his mind or to give vent to the sense of dread that seemed to encompass the whole house. James didn’t seem aware of it and that made it worse. André was convinced that he, André, was at the centre of it, the tiny point in the middle of the whirlpool around which everything else flowed. The feeling was intensifying with each minute that passed.

 

7.

Karl stood at the main door to the college. Students filed past him in a hurry to get to the first class of the day but Karl stuck to his post, anxious not to miss Dave in the crowd. He only half expected to see him now. Dave hadn’t been in the practice room. That was unusual. He was a third year student, serious, hard-working and determined to succeed. He always went to the practice room.

He wondered what to do next. He pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets to avoid any further reference, by anyone, to the bandages covering them. When he had shown them to Mrs Godfrey, his landlady, she took one look and whisked him off to hospital, ignoring his protests and excuses. She didn’t ask any questions and Karl gave no explanations but at the hospital he had to invent a story to satisfy the doctor’s curiosity. With some embarrassment he told them he’d fallen on a fire while he was drunk and they accepted the lie with knowing looks and teasing. That, he could live with, especially when, in sympathy, they produced a cream that anaesthetised the pain.

Since then Mrs Godfrey insisted on doing everything for him, apart from actually getting him into bed and getting him dressed in the morning. She invited him, for the first time ever, to join her family for Sunday lunch, pointing out he wouldn’t be able to use his own cooking facilities. She almost succeeded in spoon-feeding him when he kept dropping his fork. If it hadn’t been for his landlady’s ministrations Karl would have been tempted not to go into college but it was the only way to avoid her attentions.

But college had not been the escape he imagined either. Every single person he encountered on his tour of Dave’s known hiding places commented on his bandaged hands. At first, Karl hinted mysteriously of 'events beyond their ken' and savoured the fact that he, a first year, had been privileged to stay behind after all the other guests had left Markham’s party. Satisfaction soon palled. It was all very well putting on a superior air and hinting at mysteries and secrets but the fact remained he could do nothing else. Anaesthetic cream and a good night’s sleep hadn’t improved his memory. Karl didn’t think he would be drinking alcohol again, ever.

He made up his mind. He decided to go to the first class because it was Anna Ward’s, and as it was a harmony class  he could probably get away without playing an instrument. If Dave hadn’t turned up by then, he would call in at his flat on the way home.

Karl’s late arrival at class went unnoticed because Anna wasn’t there to witness it. She arrived nearly fifteen minutes late and then had to ask the students what they did at the last lesson, as if she couldn’t remember anything either. She behaved very strangely. When Karl asked a question she didn’t look at him directly, or notice his battered face, thus becoming the only person that morning not to do so. When she played a melody to illustrate an aspect of harmony, she sat at the piano staring into space, transfixed, until long after the last notes died away. She took a long time in getting up from the piano, and when she did, she gave the class a chapter of the text book to read instead of offering any further tuition.

Karl was bored. He wished he hadn’t bothered coming in. When the class finally ground to a halt he went in the direction of the refectory for a quick cup of coffee. He decided to hang around until lunch time to give Dave a chance of turning up. Then he would have to go and see Matt Dennison in his capacity of personal tutor. If Matt excused him from lessons for the rest of the week he could take the opportunity to go home early and enjoy a bit of home cooking.

 

 

Anna finished the lesson too early and too abruptly. She knew the students were aware of it but if she stayed in the class for one more minute she would have lost control or given something away.

Exhausted by the effort of remaining calm, she felt drained. It wasn’t the teaching or the class that wore her out but the whole of the morning. From the minute she walked into college she was aware that word of the hypnosis had spread around the building. Everyone wanted to talk about it or make comment, but even that hadn’t been the main problem. The rumours among the students, facing Matt Dennison for the first time since the party, seeing James Markham again �" all these paled into insignificance because the world of her senses had shifted and she was thrown off balance.

 

Strange as it seemed, she had grown accustomed to her heightened senses in the confines of her own home and familiarity made it seem normal. But the ten minute walk to college changed all that. Her warm breath freezing into patterns as it hit the icy air, frost glistening on the edges of leaves, the scrunch of her shoes in the crispy snow and the way each step sent light flurries around her. It all rushed back. It wasn’t imagination.

In the classroom it continued. She saw the reasons and emotions behind each student’s questions, who was working hard, who wasn’t, which students were trying to please; she felt jealousy, admiration, envy, even adoration from one quarter, all around in the very air of the classroom. She was struck again and again by all the emotions floating freely towards her. At times the atmosphere was so heavy with unspoken thoughts she couldn’t breathe. She knew she was fumbling and tried desperately to keep her train of thought but all the time she received confirmation of her abstraction through the air of the room in the unconscious messages transmitted by the students, astonished by the change in their tutor.

Playing the piano was the most disturbing of all. When she hit the first note, she sat in the same position with her finger holding its place above the key. That one single note echoed on and on, picking up resonance from the walls, floating in the air until, finally, it passed into the fabric of the building itself, blending with all the notes and rhythms of ages past. She struggled against the ghostly chorus and played on but it was impossible to ignore the beauty of such a melody. Music had always been a great part of her life but for the first time, she could really hear it.

Earlier than the lesson should have ended, Anna muttered a quick apology and rushed out of the classroom instead of waiting, as she normally did, for the students to leave first. Her self-control had almost gone. Alone, she would have stayed forever listening to the amazing music swirling around her but the atmosphere of the room was charged with voices of the mind and the emotions of the students.

She had to pull herself together. She walked away from the class towards the staff room. Concentrating hard to keep down the panic, she collided heavily with someone as she turned a corner in the corridor. Papers and books flew out of her hands, floated down and landed in a mess all over the floor. When she looked up she came face to face with Dave Holland. She heard him apologising for the collision through the pounding of blood in her head. He bent down to collect everything together and formed it into an untidy heap. She managed to find the right words to thank him but as she turned to go, he reached out and gently grasped her wrist. He stepped towards her.

“I need to talk. It’s important.”

Surprised at the strain in his voice Anna looked at him again. In his eyes she saw panic and the smell of fear assaulted her senses. The sweat on his brow, his unfocussed eyes and pale face made her want to run. With a sickening jolt, the dream of the night before came flooding back in full technicolour. She saw an image of Dave, leering and grinning at her, through a cloudy mist.

“It’s about the party. The hypnosis,” Dave mumbled. His hand tightened on her wrist as she backed away. She needed to get away as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry. Later. No time...”

Her skin crawled. There was no logical explanation except for a dream memory but she knew, without a shadow of doubt that she must not stay. Without another word she pulled sharply away, forcing him to release her wrist, then turned and fled, leaving him standing in the corridor with outstretched arms. Once safely around the corner she started to breathe again. In her mind she saw Dave standing where she had left him, looking lost and forlorn and she hated herself for being so abrupt and uncaring but she had no intentions of going back. She didn’t know why her body and mind refused to return but the urge to stay as far away as possible was overwhelming.

She sighed. The day was going very badly. If she didn’t learn some new skills very quickly she wasn’t going to survive even for an hour. She told herself to buck up, forget silly dream images and get some control over herself. She knew she would have to apologise to Dave.

The noise and smoke of the staff common room beckoned, where a strong cup of coffee might give her more energy. The room was already crowded when she arrived and she had to stand at the back of the queue. She didn’t notice Matt until he nudged her arm.

“Coffee?”

He held two cups in his hand and a knowing grin on his face. Anna smiled back, accepted a cup and followed him to some empty seats in a corner of the room.

“Thanks Matt,” she said, taking a quick sip.

“I was standing at the front when you came in. You looked as though you needed it.”

“I’ve never needed one more,” she agreed.

“Are you OK?” Matt said.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered lightly, “but you look a bit serious. Not in Markham’s bad books again are you?”

“Not that I know of, but you can never tell.” He kept his eyes on her face, still staring intently. “Have you recovered from the party?” he asked, a little too casually.

“Yes, thanks.”

“You had a lot to drink,” he said. “I couldn’t keep up.”

Anna sipped at her coffee again and placed the cup firmly on the table. “I know,” she admitted smiling, “which is probably why I can’t remember a thing.”

“No hangover yesterday?”

“None whatsoever.”

“I’m surprised.”

“So am I,” she agreed. “I felt fine yesterday. In fact I felt really good and because I can’t remember what happened when you hypnotised me, I wanted to check something out with you. I can’t talk to Jim because he disapproves.”

  “Of me? Or the hypnotism?”

“Both, as you well know. So the whole subject is taboo in our house. Anyway, he was angry about it, and wouldn’t say why. So? Did you do something to upset him?”

Matt sat back in his chair, his blue eyes twinkling. “It doesn’t take much to upset him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well he didn’t agree with it from the start because it was me doing it. No doubt he would have joined in if Markham had agreed to do it. And it wasn’t exactly a conventional hypnotism session. Things got a bit out of hand.”

“How? What do you mean?”

Matt looked uncomfortable. “Jim got mad because you went into a deep trance straightaway. You weren’t supposed to. He didn’t like it and charged in. I suppose he thought I’d done it on purpose. Markham told him to stow it.”

“And did he?”

“Reluctantly, yes.”

Matt looked down at his coffee and Anna wondered why the cup held such fascination suddenly. He was also handling her very gently and that wasn’t normal. Usually they were open with each other and Anna knew she wasn’t looking her best but he hadn’t made any comment. She knew how most of the students viewed him, with a mixture of dread and admiration but theirs was a relaxed and honest friendship which had grown steadily over the years. He wasn’t being honest today and he seemed nervous as well. She was sure now he was hiding something.

 “So what happened?” she insisted. “Why did Jim charge in? He wouldn’t have done that unless he was worried. What did I do in this trance?”

“I had difficulty in making you hear me,” Matt admitted. “You went off somewhere and you wouldn’t answer my questions. Everyone got a bit nervous, that’s when Jim interrupted. That didn’t help. But then it was OK.”

“Where did I go? I mean, is this normal, or what?”

“I don’t know,” Matt replied softly. “It’s not happened before. Markham said it was because you must be in a very deep trance.”

“What would have happened if I hadn’t come back?”

“Nothing. That’s the whole point. You would have slept for a bit then woken up naturally. There was nothing to be scared of.”

Anna was not convinced but she let it go for the time being.” Okay, well, tell me what did happen?”

“You thought you were at the theatre,” Matt said. “You sat on Markham’s sofa as if you were on a hard backed chair and looked around waiting for the performance to begin.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Anna said slowly. “Did you tell me to do that?”

“No, I didn’t tell you to do anything. You weren’t listening to me anyway, you wouldn’t respond. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, you said you were at the theatre.”

“Maggie’s theatre? The Adelphi?”

“You didn’t say. All you said was it was a very special performance but you didn’t know who the pianist was or what the music was either.”

Anna shivered. Vallon had used the very same words, 'A Very Special Performance' in her dream. The concert tickets had those words printed on them too. And a pianist. In the dream she had been introduced to a pianist.

“Pardon?” Matt said. “A dream?”

Anna didn’t realise she’d spoken out loud. She hesitated, surprised by her unwillingness to share the dream with him. “I don’t remember anything... about the hypnosis, or a pianist.”

“But you had a dream about it?”

“No, I don't know,” Anna said quickly. She remembered every image from the dream with crystal clarity but nothing from the hypnosis. “I had a dream the same night. It wasn’t at the theatre. It was a jumble of things, scenes coming and going. None of it made any sense. André Vallon was there with tickets for... he used the same words, ‘a very special performance’. There was a pianist in it but he didn’t play anything. I don’t know who he was. Green eyes, that's all I remember.”

 “You said that in the trance Anna. Something about green eyes.”

“I must have dreamed about the hypnosis then,” she realised. “I can’t remember any of it but dreams are a way of bringing it back, aren’t they? My mind must have been going over all the things that happened. She shuddered, thinking about Dave in the dream and in the corridor. “Did I do anything else” she asked quickly. “Apart from the theatre?”

“I don’t think so. You thought you were at a party.”

“I was at a party, kind of, in the dream. Vallon was going to introduce me to someone.”

Matt nodded and waited for her to go on but she stopped and stared at him. There was no aura, she realised, no special light around him. She could sense nothing about him in a psychic way as she had done with Jim and with everyone else she’d met that morning. No special light from Matt. Why should he be any different? He seemed interested, friendly, genuinely concerned about any ill effects from the hypnosis, but there was nothing else, no other clue as to his inner thoughts and feelings. She stared harder, scrutinising him so closely he blushed. A little edge of fear began to creep into her mind. She looked away quickly to gather herself together and to avoid his puzzled face, oblivious to the fact she had been staring at him with an aghast expression on her face for a full half minute. The glance around the room didn’t calm her down. The first person her gaze alighted on was James Markham, sitting in a corner going through some work of his own. There was no special light emanating from him either. A further glance around the room showed nothing out of the ordinary. The gift, if that was what it was, had deserted her.

“Anna?” There was more concern now in Matt’s face. He looked apprehensive.

“Sorry... I was...” She rubbed her eyes then looked around the room again.

“What is it?” Matt reached across to her, more worried than ever.

“Nothing... actually... now. Nothing,” Anna stammered. “I can’t see anything.”

Matt suddenly twisted round in front of her and dropped to his knees. He grabbed her shoulders roughly, almost pulling her off the seat. Anna pulled away, puzzled and frightened by the strange reaction.

“Stop it, Matt.” She jerked herself away. Matt let go and returned to his seat with a sigh of relief.

“God, Anna, you gave me a fright, I thought you’d slipped away. You were talking as though... I thought I’d gone and hypnotised you again.”

“Some chance,” Anna said with feeling.

 “Sure you’re ok?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m fine, really. I’ve just had a bit of a shock." She explained about the strange awareness she’d experienced since the morning after the party, ending with the fiasco of the harmony class. “I’ve only just realised that it’s gone, disappeared. Is that a normal result of being hypnotised?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Matt said quietly. “I’ve heard of people being able to tell what’s happening in the next room but only during the hypnosis. I think some people in a trance can read the hypnotist’s mind or share his thoughts. But again, only during the session. Your weird ‘awareness’ sounds fascinating.”

“And frightening,” Anna said, with feeling. “Because you can’t block any of it out. Everything seems to crowd in.”

“With practice though, you might have more control.”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t convinced.

“The only thing I can think of is you were still in a trance state. Perhaps you were able to pick up on things because of that.” Matt glanced up as several people began collecting their things together. "I guess that's the end of coffee break for me," he said slowly, reluctant to leave Anna. "I’ve got to go and find some scores for a crowd of second years. How about continuing this conversation later?"

“Yes,” Anna smiled. “I haven’t even started to put you on the spot yet. I’ve got a lot more to ask and I want some answers. I want to know everything that happened."

“So do I,” Matt agreed. “Are you doing anything for lunch?”

“Nothing special.”

“Pub lunch or refec?”

“Pub, I think.”

“Okay. See you later.”

 

8.

A mass exodus of the staff room began and Anna was left alone. She became engrossed in her work and after twenty minutes more than half the papers were marked, with another twenty minutes to go before her next class. She didn’t hear the staff room door open, nor did she see Dave Holland walk hesitantly into the room. Bent over her work, she felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation down her back and a coldness around her neck which made her shiver. Aware that someone was there, she looked up and turned round. Dave Holland stood with his back against the sink, staring at her.

“What are you doing here?” Anna’s voice was low with suspicion. Students never came into the staff room.

“I don’t want to disturb you, if you’re busy.”

“I am busy,” she said hurriedly.

“I need to talk to you. I can make it quick.” He walked over to her chair and sat down in the seat Matt had vacated. Anna checked his face but there was no sign of the fear and panic she’d seen earlier.

“Is it about the party?” she asked.

“Yes... no, not really.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable. “It’s about my selection for the finals. I’m not happy with what I decided. I’d like to think of something else.”

“That’s fine,” Anna replied, attempting to put him at ease. He was always shy and diffident with her. "There shouldn’t be any problem, you have to choose something you’re comfortable with. But I thought you liked your choice.”

“Yes, yes I did, at the time. I don’t anymore.”

Anna leaned back in her chair, wondering what this was all about. There was no need for Dave to come into the staff room and no need for him to discuss any of this with Anna either, as Matt was his personal tutor. She sensed that he didn’t really want to talk about music choices but he was taking a long time to get round to the real subject. She wasn’t going to get any more marking done.

Dave sat on the edge of his chair, talking about how the music didn’t suit his personality. His arms moved wildly in all directions as he described his musical technique and scolded himself for not being more intuitive and emotional in his playing. Anna watched without comment. This wasn’t like the Dave she knew, the Dave who was quiet and self-conscious. He talked and talked.

Anna lost track of time, mesmerised by his voice, unaware of what he was actually saying. Instead, she found herself staring at him, examining him, becoming more conscious with every second of how attractive he was. She’d never noticed before how his fair wavy hair, usually so tidy and well-groomed, framed his face, and how it curled into and around his neck in small waves. His skin was the type that soaked up the sun and tanned easily and although it had lost some colour over the winter months, it was the right shade, the right setting for those deep-set dark brown eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes which were such a contrast to his fair hair. His mouth as he talked was expressive, soft, but not too full. It curled up at the edges in a secret smile. She wanted to reach out and touch it.

Somewhere along the way he stopped talking and became still, watching her. Anna wasn’t aware of it. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face, couldn’t look away from the way his eyebrows arched questioningly. His mouth curved into an inviting smile.

“It’s convenient that we have the room to ourselves,” he said, his voice rougher and more urgent.

Anna nodded and her hand reached out to him, to touch him. Without knowing how it happened, she found herself leaning over him, touching and caressing him while he kissed her roughly on the lips. His hands explored her body, his fingers stroked her long silky hair. He kissed her roughly on her neck and shoulders. His hands pulled her shirt roughly to one side to expose the skin to his mouth and she lost her balance.

It was enough. The trance ended and she came back to her senses. With a strangled gasp she realised where she was and what she was doing.

“Dave!”

He laughed, unpleasantly. He pulled her roughly towards him, digging his fingers into her arms and forced her down into the chair. She struggled against him and tried to stand but succeeded only in falling backwards across the chair instead. He leaned over her, staring down, the soft lips now pressed together in anger, the eyebrows drawn so far down that his face became ugly in rage. Then he was standing over her, his leg forcing its way between her own whilst his hands held her down.

“Dave, for God’s sake!”

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to her feet. Anna fought back. She lashed out with as much strength as she could muster but he seized her hair tightly in one fist, immobilising her. Savagely he grabbed her face with the other, squeezing hard. His face came close to hers and his voice dripped with lust.

“I’ll teach you a few tricks, teacher.” He pulled her towards him, his face inches from her own and glared into her eyes. “You like it a bit rough, don’t you?”

Without warning he struck her across the face with his fist, drawing blood. She crumpled and fell to the floor. Her hair, still held tightly in his hand, brought her up short with a cruel yank and a handful was torn loose from her scalp. He stood astride her, caressing the loose hair and leered down at her, murmuring obscenities.

Anna lay still. Fear pricked at her skin and through the pain and hurt she became aware of a subtle difference in the atmosphere of the room, something that could not be felt through ordinary senses. She knew with certainty that it wasn’t Dave Holland standing above her. The strength and cruelty he exhibited were not his. The thoughts and passion she had experienced were not her own either. They’d been put into her head from some outside source, influencing her without her knowledge or permission. She felt dirty, and invaded. Something had happened to Dave, something outside his control too. Something she had already seen in a dream...

Dave, or whatever the thing was, bent down to her, one knee on the floor, the other about to kneel, steadying himself with one hand. With the other, he reached towards her, towards her neck.

Anna kicked as hard as she could between his legs. He moaned, fell to one side and she scrambled to her feet. But he recovered quickly, too quickly. He moved toward her again blocking the escape route to the door. His face was red with anger and lust. He rubbed his fingers and thumbs together in anticipation. Anna darted over to where the drinks were kept. She grabbed a cup, still half full of coffee and flung it in his face. It had no effect. She threw another one then grabbed a stacking chair and held it in front of her as a shield. Wildly, she swung the chair at him, causing cups and saucers to crash to the floor but he grabbed the legs of the chair. Anna held on, fighting for possession, fear giving her strength.

“Look into my eyes, Anna.”

“No.”

“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, Anna, look!”

She screamed. His eyes glowed red, like hot coals. Inhuman eyes. In that instant, he tore the chair away. She was defenceless without it and backed into a corner. Dave knew that too. He placed the chair behind him, deliberately, and walked slowly towards her. In the dead silence of the room his breathing was ragged and sharp. The red eyes glowed. Above the sound of the breathing, a sharp click. The staff room door opened.

Graham Short and George Canning rushed into the room, having heard the sudden scream but stopped dead. They saw Anna crouching in the corner opposite them and Dave Holland, standing over her. Graham saw the blood on Anna’s face.

“What the...”

Dave spun round.

“Christ man, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh?” Dave’s voice was low, menacing. “You want a bit too? You’ll have to stand in line or face me first.” He beckoned to George. “Come on then, muscleman. Superman. Let’s see what you can do.”

George hesitated at the sound of Dave’s offensive laughter and the obscene gestures he was making but another glance at Anna gave him courage. He threw a punch to Dave’s stomach. Dave laughed at the puny effort and matched it with a punch of his own, making the older man double up in agony. Graham went to intervene but he was no more successful in inflicting any damage. Neither was he so lucky. Dave didn’t bother to punch him. He grasped him around the neck and started to squeeze, lifting him up, higher and higher.

Anna stared with disbelief. She closed her eyes but the crazy image of Dave and his inhuman strength stayed with her. Using the wall for support, she pushed herself upright, watching helplessly as Dave slowly squeezed Graham’s neck. George was still on the floor, groaning and holding his stomach. He was coughing up blood.

Then Anna realised she had an advantage, of sorts. She was behind Dave and his attention was fixed on Graham. Her eyes darted around the room. There, on the sink, an empty milk bottle, light enough to lift, hard enough to cause some damage. She lunged for it and in one swift movement brought it crashing down on Dave’s head. Graham fell to the floor immediately, clutching his throat, choking and coughing as the air entered his lungs again.

Dave staggered but didn’t fall. He recovered quickly and pulled himself upright. Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned back towards Anna, his face twisted in rage and that dull red glow in his eyes. She lashed out again and this time caught the side of his head, halting his progress in mid-stride. In the second it took to take effect, the muscles of his face relaxed and softened. The red glow faded from his eyes, replaced by a fleeting look of bewilderment and confusion. Then he fell forward, knocking Anna back against the wall and onto the floor.

She was aware of nothing else until she sensed Graham standing over her, reaching down to pull Dave away. He held out his hand to help her to her feet. The room swayed uncomfortably. She reached a seat and sat down for a moment with her head on her knees until the immediate horror faded.

Across the room Dave lay on the floor, the empty milk bottle at his feet, still unbroken. There was no sign of George but Graham had dragged himself to another chair and was sitting upright, holding his neck as straight as he could and taking deep breaths that rasped in his throat. From somewhere deep inside she found the strength to go to him. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it in thanks. Graham tried to talk, tried to ask what had happened and why.

Anna could give no answer. She couldn’t think of a reasoned, logical explanation that she could share with anyone else. She knew now, with hindsight, when her new-found ability to see auras of light had disappeared.

It had happened at the exact moment when she collided with Dave in the corridor earlier in the day.

Reviews

[Jordan Easley]

This is a very interesting story. The main storyline is nice and it captures an audience. One suggestion I have is to not introduce so many characters so quickly. In the first chapter, you introduced like five characters. You may be able to keep track of them, but not everyone can. Try to limit the character introductions and space them out.

[KayD]

Thanks Jordan for your comments - very useful :) I take the point that almost everyone has made about the number of characters at the beginning that are introduced. I've only put the first few chapters on here and it's funny really but after the first few, the book very definitely becomes about Anna. The other people are involved all the way through and kinda give their own perspective of what is happening but it is Anna's story. So, I accept what people say, and it's a valid point but I think it balances out later. Thanks though, I really do appreciate the comments and it does make me consider how I'm writing.

[Sixella]

Sorry for taking a while, but I finally found the time to finish!
This is a really well written story and I just love your style of writing! The only thing I can really add is just agreeing with the slight confusion of changes of perspectives in the story, but other then that, keep it up! (:

[KayD]

Aww Sixella, where have you gone?

[K.J. Bryen]

I read the first two chapters, and this is a wonderful story! It's a very interesting and creative idea, and your description is great. You are very talented :) . I noticed a lot of shifts in perspective as well, and I can't help wondering if that is because all the characters play basically the same role of importance in the story, and so each of their perspectives must be told. I mean, the story wouldn't make sense without all the perspectives being told anyway. Right?
Just one note. In the first chapter, one of your sentences was not a complete sentence. It's the one that starts with: "Jim, Anna's husband . . ." And I think it goes on to tell that he didn't take part in the proceedings. But really, good job.

[Nancy]

I have read through chapter 4, this is really fascinating! The second chapter was very spooky! I love your writing, and identify with it in a lot of respects! One is that I was a music major in college. Two is that I have an interest in hypnoiss and in psychic phenomena. Wow! I do have just a couple of points I'd like to make, if you don't mind. One is that there are a lot of shifts in perspective and I'm having trouble identifying if there is a main character. Although at the moment I'm thinking Anna is the protagonist. My second thought is, was there a catalyst, other than the wind, that spun those people hypnotized into a deeper trance state? (I have very recently read that alcohol actually increases beta waves, so it would work against the alpha or theta brain waves needed for light or deeper trance state. Although most people would not know that.)