Free Girl Number One: A Gripping Psychological Thriller by Jane Holland Page B

suggest it’s some kind of hangover from the day of your
mother’s murder.’
    I can’t hold her gaze. Maybe the sun behind her
head is too bright. I look down, study my hands in silence. That was the one
thing I had hoped to achieve with this hypnosis therapy. Saying goodbye to the
shadow man who still haunts me. Though Dr Quick also refers to it as ‘childhood
trauma manifesting as ritual superstition’ which means little to me.
    But
then she’s not the one who wakes up in the middle of the night to find a
faceless shadow looming over her bed.
    ‘So there’s nothing new,’ I state flatly.
    ‘I’m afraid not. There was nothing you didn’t already
say in your original sessions, according to my notes. Except perhaps …’ Dr
Quick hesitates a beat. ‘Well, there was a single detail that seemed out of
place.’
    I
look up, interested. ‘Tell me.’
    ‘First, you need to understand that what a
person says under hypnosis is unlikely ever to be admissible in a court of law.
But that does not mean it isn’t factual, that it doesn’t represent the truth as
your subconscious sees it.’
    ‘You mean I could have imagined it, even if it
seems true to me? But it’s still true as far as I’m concerned?’
    ‘Precisely.’
    I
push myself up into a sitting position. ‘Wonderful.’
    ‘Basically,
your subconscious may no longer make any distinction between what you remember
and what you think you remember.’ She
smiles, the merest twitch of thin lips. ‘So, do you still want to hear what you
said?’
    I swing my legs round and sit up properly on
the couch. My mobile, switched to vibrate, is a hard bulge in the back pocket
of my jeans. I was asked to turn it off completely before we started, but of
course didn’t. Though it would be pretty strange to experience a sudden
vibrating sensation in my bottom during one of these sessions.
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Then
I’ll read it through from the beginning. You can draw your own conclusions.’
    She reads her notes on the session in her usual
flat voice, almost robotic. There’s nothing new, just as she said.
    But towards the end, Dr Quick pauses and
glances up at me. ‘Then you said, “I recognised the white trainers, as he ran
up the slope.” That’s something new.’
    ‘I’ve always said he wore white trainers.’
    ‘Not precisely those words though.’ The doctor
shuffles through the document file on her desk, then stops, picking up and studying
an older transcript. ‘Yes, here it is. You’ve always mentioned seeing his white
trainers, certainly. But you never before said that you “recognised” them. Not
once.’
    ‘So I used a different word this time.’ I
shrug. ‘How is that revealing?’
    ‘Bear in mind that I’m a hypnosis therapist,
not a detective,’ Dr Quick tells me, leaning back in her chair. ‘And perhaps it
means nothing at all. But the word “recognised” would suggest that you had seen
those particular white trainers before. That you knew the man wearing them, in fact.’

 
    I need to see
Denzil Tremain.
    Denzil
is uncomplicated, and not entirely into the idea of a relationship, which makes
him perfect right now. If I confide in one of my close friends – Hannah
maybe, or Tris, or Connor – I’m going to end up getting an emotional
response, plus the kind of heartfelt advice that sounds great late at night but
isn’t worth very much when you find yourself alone again.
    He
understands because he’s been there. He’s got his own version of the shadow man.
Only in his case, it’s a real person. His father, who has been in and out of
prison most of Denzil’s life. So I’m unlikely to get much advice or sympathy from
him.
    But
I’ll get an intelligent ear, and sometimes talking out a problem can make you
see a clear solution where you were blind to it before.
    Denzil
has a weekend job at the Woods Valley Garden Centre. It doesn’t pay much. But
with his history, he’s lucky to have any kind of gainful employment at all. He