A Question of Identity (4 page)

‘Well, I most certainly don't! I have enough trouble marshalling my own thoughts, without being bombarded with other people's!'

‘It was uncanny, how he knew exactly what was in Max's pockets,' Gavin said reflectively.

‘Don't remind me!'

‘Perhaps
you're
a plant!' Rona said wickedly.

A bell sounded, warning them that the show was about to restart, and they returned to their seats, interested to know what other surprises were in store.

After the restrained manner of the telepath, Ed Bauer was a complete contrast. It occurred to Rona that he was showman first and hypnotist second, but she allowed that she might be misjudging him. Dressed in a loudly checked jacket, his paunch overhanging his jeans, he looked more like a holiday-camp entertainer than someone practising mind control.

‘Hi there, folks,' he began breezily. ‘Tonight, I'm gonna demonstrate the amazing power of suggestion, whereby it's possible, by means of inducing a trance, to influence the actions and perceptions of other people.

‘The practice was well known in Egypt and India thousands of years ago, but the west only caught on when an Austrian doctor by the name of Mesmer started investigating what he called animal magnetism – or Mesmerism – in the eighteenth century. Today, as you know, it's widely used to root out and treat the causes of trauma and mental illness.'

He smiled, spreading his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘But hey! You didn't come here for a history lesson! This evening we're gonna have some fun, and to start us off, I'd ask all you good folk down there to stretch your arms high above your heads and clasp your hands together. Like so.' The seams of his jacket strained as he reached upwards.

Only a scattering of people obeyed him.

‘Aw, come on, folks,' he urged, ‘you gotta help me out here! On the count of three, arms high above your heads –
all
of you! Now, one – two –
three
!' And this time, a little self-consciously, everyone's arms went up. ‘There – that wasn't so difficult, was it? Now clasp your hands tightly together and hold for a count of ten.'

He counted slowly, his own arms still above his head, and, on reaching ten, let them fall. ‘Well done! OK, that's fine.'

The audience thankfully lowered their arms, but, aware of murmurings around her, Rona saw to her surprise that a number of people still held theirs up, including Magda.

‘You can put them down now!' Gavin hissed.

‘I know, but I . . . can't!'

‘What are you
talking
about? Put them
down
, for Pete's sake!'

‘Gavin, I'm
trying
!'

‘Well now,' boomed Bauer from the stage, ‘seems some folk are having problems here. Those sitting next to them, why not be neighbourly and give them a hand?'

Gavin tugged sharply at Magda's arms, but they were completely rigid and resisted his efforts.

‘For God's sake!' he exclaimed. ‘What
is
this?'

‘No luck?' Bauer stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Then we'll have to try something else. Stand up, please, everyone with their arms in the air.'

Reluctant and embarrassed, some three dozen people did so.

‘Right, now I'm gonna divide you into groups: the first is the folks in the rows from the front here back as far as row M, second group those in the rows behind that, and the third, those of you up in the balcony, and I'm gonna ask you in turn to join me on stage. First, though, we have to get your arms down, don't we, so I'll count to five, and that'll do the trick.'

Sure enough, on the count of five, Magda's hands dropped to her sides, as, simultaneously, relieved laughter broke out around them.

She sat down hastily, rubbing her arms. ‘That was the strangest thing! I
wanted
to put them down, I just couldn't!'

‘You weren't concentrating,' Gavin told her.

‘Well, obviously I wasn't the only one!'

‘Now,' Bauer was continuing, ‘will the first group come up and join me, please.'

‘Oh, no!' Magda gripped her seat with both hands. ‘There's no way I'm letting myself in for this!'

But as people began to come out of their rows and move down the aisle, she felt the pull of Bauer's gaze.

‘Come along now, lady, it's your turn,' he said jovially. ‘Nothing to be afraid of!'

Magda hesitated a moment longer, but, unwilling to make a scene, she reluctantly stood up and went to join the others, five men and five other women.

‘Clever way of rooting out the most susceptible,' Max said, as Rona looked anxiously after her friend.

Bauer beamed and rubbed his hands together. ‘Right, now I'll explain what's gonna happen. I'll get the orchestra to play “Lullaby of Broadway”, and as soon as you hear it, you folks up here will fall asleep. I'll then ask you to perform a number of actions, and when you hear the tune “Wake up little Susie”, that's what you'll do. OK?'

The participants nodded doubtfully. ‘No need to worry, folks,' Bauer assured them. ‘I won't get you to do anything too embarrassing or, of course, dangerous, so just sit down and make yourselves comfortable.'

During the interval, a row of chairs had been brought on stage, and everyone dutifully seated themselves.

‘Now, just so we feel real friendly, I'd like you to tell me your names, starting with you, sir, at the end.'

‘Frank,' supplied the red-haired man, and the rest of them followed suit.

‘Great. Now, all nice and relaxed? Then let's get the show on the road.'

Rona's eyes were fixed on Magda, and, as her friend glanced anxiously down at her, she gave a little nod of encouragement. Then the orchestra struck up with ‘Lullaby of Broadway', and immediately all eleven contestants sagged forward, their chins on their chests. The orchestra finished with a crashing of chords, making several in the audience jump, but none of those on stage stirred a muscle.

‘Sound asleep, as you see,' Bauer said with satisfaction. ‘Well now, Frank; you can start us off. You're taking part in an Elvis look-alike contest. Off you go!'

The red-haired man jumped to his feet and began a spirited rendition of ‘Blue Suede Shoes', gyrating in the approved manner while the audience laughed and clapped.

‘I don't think I like this,' Rona murmured. ‘He's got them completely in his power.'

‘That's the object of the exercise, love,' Max told her.

‘I hope to God he goes easy on Magda,' Gavin said anxiously. ‘I bet she's regretting persuading us to come.'

During the next few minutes, Rona became increasingly uncomfortable as the eleven on stage performed like automatons: jumping on their chairs or running round the stage to avoid snakes; singing and clucking like chickens, curtseying and bowing to the Queen. It ended with disturbingly heated arguments, when the volunteers were told the person next to them had wronged them in some way.

Finally, they were instructed to return to their chairs, the orchestra struck up ‘Wake up little Susie', and, rubbing their eyes and looking about them in bewilderment, they emerged from their trance.

Prolonged applause accompanied their return to their seats.

‘Did I make a complete fool of myself?' Magda asked anxiously. ‘I don't remember a thing between sitting down on that chair, and waking up to find myself still there.'

‘You were fine,' Rona assured her. ‘It was very brave of you to go up.'

‘Not sure I had any choice!' Magda said ruefully.

Of course you did! Rona thought, instinctively recoiling from her passive acceptance, but Magda had turned to Gavin, and she kept her reaction to herself.

The other two groups were called on in turn, and underwent much the same treatment, and, with Magda safely back beside her, Rona was more relaxed and able to enjoy the performance along with the rest of the audience.

When the third group had returned to their seats and Bauer had repeatedly bowed his thanks for the enthusiastic applause, the orchestra unexpectedly struck up with ‘Lullaby of Broadway'
.
And to Rona's horror, Magda, who'd been speaking to her, suddenly slumped in her seat, as, judging by exclamations throughout the auditorium, did all the other participants.

Almost immediately, the music segued into ‘Wake up little Susie', which once again revived them, and, to quiet the excited chatter among the audience, Bauer held up his hand.

‘OK, OK, I apologize, folks! Just a little trick of the trade to end with! And if you're wondering why the first group didn't fall asleep when groups two and three went under, well, I guess that's a trade secret! But rest assured, you'll be able to listen to ‘Lullaby of Broadway' for the rest of your lives in complete safety!'

There was another burst of applause, but again he raised a hand, suddenly serious, and it died raggedly away.

‘One thing I must stress, ladies and gentlemen. My aim this evening has been to entertain you, and I hope we've had some fun. But make no mistake, hypnotism is a serious business and can be dangerous if in the wrong hands; so let me close by saying, as they do on kids' TV, “Don't try this at home!”'

He gave a final bow and, with a wave, made his way off stage. The curtains swung across and the house lights went up. It was the end of the show, and not, to Rona's mind, a minute too soon. Having believed Magda's trance was behind her, to see her succumb again had raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

The four of them walked together to the car park, where they separated with promises to be in touch. Rona and Max were silent as he edged their car into the stream of those leaving the car park.

‘Well, what did you think of it?' he asked eventually.

‘Creepy!' Rona said. ‘I'd been most wary of the telepath, but as it turned out, it was Bauer who gave me goosebumps.'

‘But you knew roughly what he was going to do.'

‘I wasn't expecting Magda to be one of his guinea pigs. She's such a strong character, always so sure of herself. To see her go under so completely just . . . freaked me out. Silly, I know.'

‘All three acts were good of their kind,' Max conceded, as they finally moved out on to Market Street. ‘I suppose you can't ask for more, though, as you know, it's not my idea of an evening out.'

‘Are you still convinced they were using plants?'

He smiled, patting his jacket pocket. ‘I'm in no position to criticize, am I?' he said.

L
ucy Coombes stared unbelievingly at the slammed door. Across the table, her three-year-old son's eyes filled with tears.

‘Why did Daddy shout?' he asked tremulously.

Why indeed?

‘He didn't mean it, darling,' Lucy said steadily. ‘He's been working too hard lately, and he's tired.'

‘But he said he'd take us out this morning!' objected five-year-old Ben, as the sound of the departing car reached them.

‘Perhaps he won't be long. In the meantime, why don't you finish that picture you were painting? Then later, if Daddy's still not back, we'll go into town and you can spend your pocket money.'

The boys trotted off happily enough, but Lucy sat staring uneasily into her coffee. That burst of temper was so unlike Kevin, who'd always been so patient with the children. It was true things were hectic at his office, but this was the first time it had spilled over into his home life.

She stood up determinedly and started to clear the breakfast table, tipping Kevin's uneaten toast and marmalade into the bin. This evening, she resolved, when the boys were in bed, she'd cook a special meal, open a bottle of wine, and persuade him to talk over what was worrying him. Whatever it was, she was sure they could sort it out.

Guy Lacey stood in the hall of the house that had been his home for nearly thirty years, and looked around him.

‘I don't know where to start,' he said helplessly.

Avril Parish slipped an arm round his waist. ‘We don't have to do this now,' she said. ‘They won't get possession for several weeks, surely?'

Guy shook his head. ‘I'm not one for putting things off. Anyway, they'll be wanting to come and measure for curtains and so on, and try to visualize where they'll put their own things. The sooner mine are out of the way, the better.'

‘Have you decided what you're leaving?'

‘Carpets, of course, which are no use anywhere else, and are all old anyway. And curtains, for the same reason, but I don't doubt they'll come down pretty smartly. They're all past their sell-by.'

He sighed. ‘It's always just been “home”, with all its imperfections, but looking at it through the new owners' eyes I can see there's the hell of a lot to be done. Not structurally; I've always kept that up to scratch, but the kitchen's hopelessly out of date and the decor leaves a lot to be desired.'

‘People usually want to redecorate anyway.' Avril paused. ‘So where do we start?'

‘God knows.'

‘Then I suggest you walk round with a pencil and pad and write down what you want to keep, what's to be sold, what might be of interest to Sarah, and what is to go into storage till we get our own house.'

‘You won't want any of this junk, surely?'

‘Stop being so disparaging! There are some lovely pieces here, those Queen Anne chairs, for a start. And your dining suite is much nicer than mine. I want our new house to be an amalgam of both our previous homes, not just a replica of the one I have now – quite apart from the fact that Tom and Catherine might well want some things from Maple Drive.'

‘OK, let's make a start then. You'd like to keep the dining suite – fine; we'll mark that down for storage. Suppose you tell me what else you fancy, because Lord knows, I haven't a clue.'

Avril laughed. ‘Come on, Guy! You're not usually so downbeat!'