the treatment,” he explains and I am completely taken aback, my initial enthusiasm waning. Do I want to bring Kyle out? The obvious answer is a resounding No! But if this is the only way to make any progress...I take a moment to consider and then I nod my head.
“Let’s do it,” I say and Carl nods his approval. “But I want to be there. I want to speak to him myself. I think I may be able to break through.”
Carl looks as though he is about to argue and then a resigned look crosses his face.
“Jacob?” he asks, with a sigh.
“Jacob,” I nod. If Jacob is the secret-keeper then he is the one I need.
Three days later I wake up and it is snowing; the experts got it right after all. I am alone in our bed but I can hear Adam moving around in the kitchen, so I burrow back under the covers and enjoy a few minutes of privacy to think. I miss my dad. There has not been a single Christmas since I was a little girl that I have not seen him on Christmas day. I had thought about flying back but our first hypnosis session is booked for two days time on the 27 th and I want to be there. I wonder idly if Frank might go and visit him today, and, as if on cue, my mobile phone starts ringing. It’s my mom’s number displayed on the caller ID.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” I sing into the receiver as I answer.
“Merry Christmas, love!” she sounds quite animated and I am pleasantly surprised, “what are you up to today?” she asks and I grin.
“I just woke up, Mom, it's only 7 a.m. here, remember?”
“Oh, yes, yes, I keep forgetting,” she clucks and I smile fondly.
“How’s the turkey?” I ask, feeling a pang of sadness. I love our traditional family Christmas roast. It is one of my favourite days of the year, and this is the first year that I won’t be there. My mother obviously feels similarly if her next words are anything to go by.
“It’s in the oven now, smells heavenly,” there is a pause that is loaded with meaning, and then, “such a pity you aren’t here to enjoy it with us.”
“Mom,” I sigh, “we’ve discussed this. You know I would be there if I could, but this is important. You know that.”
“Yes well, he better prove himself worthy of you, Paige,” she declares, in a rare moment of support. I smile sadly, but feel surprisingly warm and fuzzy inside.
“Thanks Mom, I love you.”
“Yes, well, here’s Frank,” she utters briskly. Okay; tender moment over.
I spend a few minutes wishing Frank and the girls “Merry Christmas” and then I hang up. I suppose I had better get up and dressed, so I hop into the shower and ten minutes later I head down the passage to the kitchen.
“You’re up!” dam calls, sounding delighted. I walk straight into his open arms and he squeezes me tightly. “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, “I hope you brought your appetite!” I pinch a mushroom from the sizzling pan and he slaps my hand away, laughing, before depositing a steaming cup of coffee in my hands.
“ Mmm,” I murmur, blowing on the hot liquid, trying to cool it down. Adam regards me fondly before holding up one finger.
“Wait right here,” he instructs and then he disappears down the passage.
I flip through this morning’s paper finding nothing really interesting except for an article about a group of daredevils who had bungee-jumped off the Manhattan Bridge. Police were looking for any witnesses to the crime. I wonder idly how they did it, wishing it was legal. It sounds like something that would scare the wits out of me; just what I need right now.
“Which hand?” Adam has returned and I glance up from the paper to find him standing before me, both arms outstretched and his hands balled into fists.
I narrow my eyes at him and then I examine each hand, trying to work out if either one looks like it could be holding something. After a moment's consideration I realise there are no tell-tale clues and I laugh.
“Left!” I decide,
“Let’s do it,” I say and Carl nods his approval. “But I want to be there. I want to speak to him myself. I think I may be able to break through.”
Carl looks as though he is about to argue and then a resigned look crosses his face.
“Jacob?” he asks, with a sigh.
“Jacob,” I nod. If Jacob is the secret-keeper then he is the one I need.
Three days later I wake up and it is snowing; the experts got it right after all. I am alone in our bed but I can hear Adam moving around in the kitchen, so I burrow back under the covers and enjoy a few minutes of privacy to think. I miss my dad. There has not been a single Christmas since I was a little girl that I have not seen him on Christmas day. I had thought about flying back but our first hypnosis session is booked for two days time on the 27 th and I want to be there. I wonder idly if Frank might go and visit him today, and, as if on cue, my mobile phone starts ringing. It’s my mom’s number displayed on the caller ID.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” I sing into the receiver as I answer.
“Merry Christmas, love!” she sounds quite animated and I am pleasantly surprised, “what are you up to today?” she asks and I grin.
“I just woke up, Mom, it's only 7 a.m. here, remember?”
“Oh, yes, yes, I keep forgetting,” she clucks and I smile fondly.
“How’s the turkey?” I ask, feeling a pang of sadness. I love our traditional family Christmas roast. It is one of my favourite days of the year, and this is the first year that I won’t be there. My mother obviously feels similarly if her next words are anything to go by.
“It’s in the oven now, smells heavenly,” there is a pause that is loaded with meaning, and then, “such a pity you aren’t here to enjoy it with us.”
“Mom,” I sigh, “we’ve discussed this. You know I would be there if I could, but this is important. You know that.”
“Yes well, he better prove himself worthy of you, Paige,” she declares, in a rare moment of support. I smile sadly, but feel surprisingly warm and fuzzy inside.
“Thanks Mom, I love you.”
“Yes, well, here’s Frank,” she utters briskly. Okay; tender moment over.
I spend a few minutes wishing Frank and the girls “Merry Christmas” and then I hang up. I suppose I had better get up and dressed, so I hop into the shower and ten minutes later I head down the passage to the kitchen.
“You’re up!” dam calls, sounding delighted. I walk straight into his open arms and he squeezes me tightly. “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, “I hope you brought your appetite!” I pinch a mushroom from the sizzling pan and he slaps my hand away, laughing, before depositing a steaming cup of coffee in my hands.
“ Mmm,” I murmur, blowing on the hot liquid, trying to cool it down. Adam regards me fondly before holding up one finger.
“Wait right here,” he instructs and then he disappears down the passage.
I flip through this morning’s paper finding nothing really interesting except for an article about a group of daredevils who had bungee-jumped off the Manhattan Bridge. Police were looking for any witnesses to the crime. I wonder idly how they did it, wishing it was legal. It sounds like something that would scare the wits out of me; just what I need right now.
“Which hand?” Adam has returned and I glance up from the paper to find him standing before me, both arms outstretched and his hands balled into fists.
I narrow my eyes at him and then I examine each hand, trying to work out if either one looks like it could be holding something. After a moment's consideration I realise there are no tell-tale clues and I laugh.
“Left!” I decide,
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