Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox
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were opened to let in more light, as Jack told Mr Howard about the eyes watching him. And the awful feeling that he was in danger.
The two doctors listened intently as he explained where he had been and the things he had witnessed. ‘Same as always,’ he told them. ‘It was like before, but today I felt as if there was someone else there – someone gentle who did not wish me harm . . .’ He then fell silent, and Mr Howard wisely did not press him further.
After a while, because he thought Jack had endured enough for today, Mr Howard rang his assistant for some coffee and biscuits. A few moments later, while the other two men enjoyed the refreshments, Jack himself had no appetite. All he wanted was to get as far away from there as possible.
‘You did well, Jack.’ His GP had been fascinated by the session, although at times he felt out of his depth.
His colleague was satisfied with the way things had progressed. ‘It was an excellent beginning,’ he declared, sipping his coffee.
Drained and nervous, Jack listened to what he had to say.
Mr Howard began pacing the floor. ‘Fascinating!’ He said it twice. ‘A first session is usually a probing experiment, but this one was very graphic. Very telling.’
‘In what way?’ Jack was sceptical, yet in the strangest way, he believed Mr Howard understood.
‘You gave an amazingly vivid indication of what you were actually feeling. Now, Jack, I’m going to ask you a very important question. Think before you answer.’
Jack was instantly afraid. ‘What kind of “question”?’
‘During any of your nightmares, can you ever remember calling out for your mother?’
Jack was surprised by the question. ‘No, never!’ He was certain of it. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because today, in the midst of describing what you saw, you became extremely distressed and you called out for your mother. You began to panic and cried out for “Mummy”, just as a very young child in trouble would do. Are you sure you don’t recall ever doing that before?’
Intrigued, Jack cast his mind back. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember thinking about my mother. All I ever wanted was to be out of there.’ He was struggling to understand the other man’s thinking. ‘What does it all mean, exactly? What are you getting at?’
‘I’m not saying this is the case,’ Howard cautioned, ‘but there is a distinct possibility that this time, you regressed back to when this all began. You told me beforehand that you could not be certain when it all started, but that you had suffered the nightmares for as long as you could remember.’
The psychiatrist started to pace around the small room as he outlined his thoughts. ‘It’s early days yet, and we must not get ahead of ourselves. By the same token, we also need to consider every possibility if we’re to help rid you of these distressing images. Now, let us suppose that a traumatic event really did happen to you, in your early infancy – that, as I am beginning to suspect, your nightmares are not a figment of the imagin ation, but result from an actual experience.’
‘What?! How can that be?’ Jack could not accept such a shocking idea. ‘It’s too awful! If something like that had actually happened to me, I would remember it, surely?’
‘Not if you were a small child. Not if the shock was too traumatic for you to cope with. I understand your anxiety, Jack, and as I mentioned before, I could be wrong, so now, let’s take time to clearly analyse the facts as we have them.’
Unlike Jack, he was convinced that he had hit on a shocking truth. ‘Firstly, you described the images, which appear to be consistent in every case. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘In each and every case, you’re trapped and afraid. Eyes are watching you. Someone is there – you can sense their presence. You desperately need to get out of that place, but you are physically unable to do it – am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, maybe the reason you can’t get out is because you’re too small and helpless.’
‘We don’t know that! I mean – I didn’t feel like a small child.’
‘But you were desperate to get out, and for some reason you couldn’t. All right, let’s look at it another way. Were you aware of your hands being tied? Or of being secured to anything, in any way?’
Jack had never dwelt on anything like that before, but he now concentrated his mind. ‘I’m reaching up and shifting about, so no – I don’t feel as though I’m restricted.’ Unwillingly, he felt himself drifting back. ‘But I can’t get away. I can’t get out!’
‘Jack, can you give some quiet thought to what I’m saying? I believe we can assume that at least one of the reasons why you could not get yourself out of that place, was that you were a small child. Maybe you were too little to find your way back to safety. So you did the one thing you were able to do. You cried out, calling for your mummy to help you. The fact that you were able to speak suggests you were at least two years old, maybe three.’
Jack had to admit that the explanations made sense. Yet he was deeply disturbed by these new revelations. If he had been a small child at the time, what on earth was he doing in that hellish place?
There had been someone else there – he knew that now. So who was it? Did they help him? He couldn’t remember. The idea that someone, for whatever reason might have taken him to such a terrifying place was too shocking.
‘I don’t understand!’ He clambered out of the chair. ‘No one would put a small child in such a position. I can’t believe that!’
When his confusion threatened to erupt into anger, Mr Howard spoke calmly. ‘Like I said, Jack, this is just one suggestion. Nothing can be ruled in or out at this stage. But we have to discuss every aspect as we go along. Only that way, can we uncover the truth.’
Jack took a moment to digest what had been said. ‘So, what you’re saying is, these nightmares could be happening for any number of reasons. The idea of me being a child in a real situation is just one possibility. On the other hand, they may simply be a figment of my imagination.’
‘That’s exactly right. Our understanding of dreams is very limited. They are, in the main, a condition of the subconscious. The reasons for regular nightmares such as your own are many, and what we’re doing with you now is simply delving. Searching for the source of your own particular torment. Pausing, he then continued sincerely, ‘Like it or not, we owe it to you to consider the possibility that your nightmare could stem from a real episode.’
Jack had a question: ‘If I can remember everything else, why can’t I remember calling out for my mother?’
‘Mmm.’ Mr Howard weighed his words carefully as he went on: ‘Maybe the stronger memories, such as the images, and the terror you experienced, shut out everything else. The cry for help was as natural as the images were unnatural. All these years, you retained the memories of actual images, the physical impact on your senses, such as the darkness and the watchful eyes. These were the source of your torment. Your cry for help, however, was intuitive. You felt no need to retain it within yourself.’
‘So, what happens next?’ Jack felt tired. Beaten. More than that, he was afraid of the unknown. Especially now.
In truth, he was already regretting having agreed to come here, and now all he wanted was to get away and never come back.
Molly was wrong. This had not helped. All it had done was to shatter his confidence even more.
A short time later, having said his goodbyes, Jack hurried off in the direction of the car park, while behind in the office, Mr Howard examined the drawings he’d made. And the more he studied that dark, intimidating place, the more he began to fear Jack’s sanity.
On passing a builders’ skip, Jack paused to take