I was trying to think of a way of approaching him when I found the answer staring back at me from the newspaper. Dr Hobie was looking for a secretary of 'mature appearance and disposition'. Hmm. I don't know shorthand but I can probably pass on the appearance criteria. The advert gave a box number, but I couldn't take the chance on that. I decided to go to see him directly, and the present seemed like as good a time as any to do it.
I was feeling decidedly nervous by the time I reached the office, and my initial contact with the therapist did nothing to calm me. The tallish, distinguished-looking gentleman was obviously expecting someone, which immediately put me on my guard. By the time we'd established that I wasn't the cleaner I began to feel a little easier.
The doctor mentioned very early on that he could recall absolutely nothing of the raid on his premises. This was disappointing but not wholly unexpected. He also asked me to sign a couple of papers, citing reasons of confidentiality. I didn't pay much attention to what I was signing, but as I wasn't there to look for gossip to spread or sell - I'm more concerned with making sure certain information doesn't get out - it didn't worry me unduly at the time.
He was more concerned on making sure all he could remember of the dead girl was committed to paper again, and as soon as possible, which suited my purposes very well. What did concern me was the method he had chosen to do this. He intended to use some kind of self-hypnosis, which he began the moment he settled himself into his chair, with me perched precariously on a flimsy-looking side table beside him.
Once he'd managed to hypnotise himself, he launched into what I soon understood to be his hidden memories of a conversation he'd had, presumably in that very office, with Laura Dreadlow herself. Electrified, I picked up my pencil and began to write down as much as I could. What follows is a fairly accurate copy of my notes, such as thay are, although I will allow my transcription to be not fully complete, and there may be a couple of occasions where I misheard the Doctor.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Dr. Jake Hobie pauses and then says "I am going to count backwards from three, and you will sink gently beneath the waves into the deep blue. When I reach one, you will be perfectly still, and you will be able to have a pleasant dream, of the first time that Laura Dreadlow came into your office" - Three - sinks slowly downwards - two - feel the deep blue enfolding you - One - you are now in your office with Laura Dreadlow"
Laura's voice: So Doc, want to know why I came to see you?
Dr. Jake Hobie: Your father and Mother wanted me to talk to you about your strange behaviour
Laura's voice (laughs): You don't know a thing, Doc. I made my father send me to you. I wanted to see if you were as crazy as the town says you are
Dr. Jake Hobie: Isn't that a sort of strange thing to do, Laura, making your father send you to see a therapist?
Laura's voice: I'm a kind of strange girl, Doc, are you man enough to handle me? I can bite, you know, and there's a few boys around town will testify to that. Well, no, they *won't testify, that's the beauty of having a mobile phone that takes pictures and records voices, they'll do exactly what I ask them to do. Except the real thing, (sad note of irritation), there's things that boys can't do for a girl, you know what I mean, Doc?
Dr. Jake Hobie: I can imagine all sorts of things, Laura, they probably won't let you drive their cars, for instance.
Laura's voice (laughs): Oh Doc, what makes you think I want to be in the *front* seat? I'm a back-seat girl, all the way. (laughs again) aren't you going to ask me about my mother? That's what all trick-cyclists say, isn't it? "we seem to have avoided talking about your mother"
Dr. Jake Hobie says "Your mother was very concerned about you when I spoke to her, she wanted me to, well, no, I'll not ask you that, it's my job to get you to ask the questions of yourself.
Laura's voice (laughing harder): She's not my mother, Doc. She's my father's wife. But that doesn't mean she's my mother, does it? Know what I mean?
Dr. Jake Hobie: Um, she seems to think she's your mother, Laura.
Laura's voice: She *pretends* to be my mother, Doc, but she can't be, she had a hysterectomy after a car-crash, three years before I was born. And my father was the driver. She never forgave him for that. He had turned his head to look at a woman in a short skirt bending over the engine of her broken-down car, and didn't see the truck pull out in front of them.
Dr. Jake Hobie: But that doesn't stop her from loving you as if she were your natural mother, Laura. Is it this which has made you so upset about things?
Laura's voice (laughs): I'm not upset, Doc, don't you get it? I'm fine, it's them that are upset, her and him. He, because she never lets a day go past without reminding him what a poor father he has been, her, because she's jealous of whoever it was he slept with to get me to give to her to try and make up for the wrong he had done.
(( That was when I snapped my pencil lead and had to rummage around in my bag for a replacement. I don't think I missed anything, and I'm fairly certain what I did manage to get down was accurate. ))
Laura's voice: Doc, why is it you types always sit behind the patient? If you sat at the foot of the couch, you could look up my skirt and see what I'm wearing underneath.
Dr. Jake Hobie: Laura, that's very improper, and I wouldn't dream of abusing this situation in such a way.
Laura's voice; Well, suppose I suddenly get an itch and have to scratch doc? See, there's one now. I'll just pull my skirt up a bit and see if I can rub it and make the itch go away.
(( I found myself scratching my own legs in sympathy with Laura and dropped my pencil. It's possible I didn't get everything here. ))
Dr. Jake Hobie: That's quite enough, Laura. I think we should stop at this point, and resume next week.
Dr. Jake Hobie begins to breathe harder and seems to become agitated, moving his head from side to side, and then speaks in a calmer-deeper voice, "I am going to count up th three, and you will rise up out of the deep blue, and let the waves carry you back to the beach, where you will awaken when I say three. One - two - three
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dr Hobie appeared to break out of his trance quite easily. I offered to type up my notes and he readily agreed, although his reminder about the confidentiality agreement I had signed put a nagging doubt in my head, as though there was something significant I had missed about the whole thing. He then ushered me out rather abruptly, saying he needed to lie down. It was clear the headache he had from the blow he received during the robbery was still troubling him.
But somehow I had the feeling that lying down was the last thing on his mind. Whether there was something in the session that had triggered some other memory, I don't know, but he seemed both tired and agitated. I thought it better not to push my luck by hanging around. I knew I would be back inside that office again very soon, drawn by its intriguing occupant and the secrets it holds so close, yet also so tantalisingly accessible.
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