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By Root 320 0

don't want to make you jump into a fountain or bark like a dog. What I should like to do, with your full cooperation, is to help you hypnotise yourself, so you can root around for any minor details you may have forgotten about that night. You know, sometimes the mind works a bit like those straw Chinese finger tubes, where the harder you pull against them, the more difficult it is to get loose. Having the police hammering away at you has only made the mind put up a wall to protect itself, and the idea of hypnotism is to allow you to relax and see through some peepholes in the wall." This was an entirely inadequate explanation, but its homeliness would satisfy and reassure. "You would be in charge, not I, though I'd like to have Mr O'Rourke here so that you feel perfectly safe about it."

"You won't make me do anything I don't want to do?" She didn't like the idea of relinquishing control any more than I would.

"I'm not certain I could, even if I wanted to," I lied, and then I returned to the truth. "You'd be aware and in control at all times, you could stop whenever you want, and Mr O'Rourke would be there to make certain of it."

"How long would it take?"

"Between one and two hours, I should think. If you are interested in doing it tonight," I said, shifting gently from the conditional and vague to a future and definite, "you ought to have something to eat first, and use the lavatory." I could see the simple details reassure her further.

"Tommy— Mr O'Rourke— is bringing some sandwiches. We were going for a picnic supper," she said noncommittally.

"I could come back tomorrow, if you like."

"No, it's all right. Actually, you've got me interested in it."

Mr Tommy O'Rourke arrived early with sandwiches and fizzy lemonade and an expression of deep mistrust when he saw me. By this time, Miss Chessman's apprehension had given way to a degree of enthusiasm, and she explained and chattered in between bites. I turned down the offer of food, took some coffee when it was made, and then sat down to explain the process so they would both know what to expect. When I had finished, Miss Chessman excused herself for a moment and left the room.

"How do you feel about all this, Mr O'Rourke?" I asked.

"D'you know, I think it may be a good idea. She's in a real state about it all, and I think ... well, if she could feel she had helped some, instead of blaming herself for not being able to help, she'd feel ... I don't know. She hasn't been sleeping at all well, I don't think." He was incoherent, but his concern was unmistakable.

"You understand that she may, to a certain extent, relive the accident? That she may go through the horror again, but I'll help her to lay it to rest, and you mustn't interrupt? It could be hard on her to be interrupted just then."

"I understand. Do I need to sit in the corner or anything?"

"Small noises and movements will not distract her, but please don't address her directly unless I ask you to.

"So, Miss Chessman, all ready? You will need to be comfortable. Lie down if you like, or sit in a chair that supports your head fully. Yes, that should be fine. A pillow, perhaps? Good. Shoes off? No? Very well." My voice became gentle, unobtrusive, and rhythmical.

"As I said, Miss Chessman, the idea of the exercise is to allow you a certain amount of distance between the world around you and the world you carry within you. We do this by steps, ten of them, by counting backwards from ten. Each of the ten steps takes you a bit further down into yourself, and when we come back up, we reverse the process. At ten, you are fully alert, relaxed, your eyes are open, and you can talk normally. Further down, between approximately six and three, or two, you may find speech inconvenient, distracting. In that case, if I ask you a question, I should like you to raise this finger, just slightly, to indicate yes"— I touched her right forefinger—"and this finger, just slightly, to signal no." I touched her left forefinger. "Do that now, please, for yes. That's right. And for no. Good. We are at ten