I noticed that she had not left her coat at reception.

‘Would you like me to take your coat?’ I enquired.

‘No,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

‘I can turn the heat up if you are cold.’

‘No, no,’ she said quickly, a faint flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She gave me a lingering look.

‘All right. So how have you been?’ I asked politely.

‘Good. Very good.’

‘Any new memories?’

‘No, but I’d like to remember the day my mother died.’

I frowned, but I nodded. I didn’t know what lay in store that day, but I could not protect her forever. Eventually, once I found out who the white owl was and why she was so terrified of it, I planned on letting her remember everything, the good and the bad.

We went into the room next door and she made herself comfortable on the zero gravity chair while I fiddled about with the necessary buttons and switches.

‘Ready?’ I asked her.

She nodded and I smelt her perfume.

I took a seat beside her and went through the induction procedure. It was now much shorter as I had already created the pathways for her hypnotized state. When she was in a deep trance I instructed her to go to her special place again. I waited for a few seconds.

‘Are you there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ I said planning to take her to that day next. And for some unknown reason my gaze skimmed her body and found a hole in her tights. I stared at it. Her skin was very pale in the blue light. I found myself blinking. Then I did what I had never done before. I put my finger on her exposed skin. My breath came ragged and trembling. What the hell?

I could not believe the potency and the force of my desire for her. I was powerless in its wake. The more I denied it, the mightier it became until this. Me touching her while she was lying on my chair totally helpless. And still my finger did not lift away. Instead it moved slightly. My finger was stroking her! Her skin was like the finest, smoothest silk. For heart-stopping seconds my finger remained as if unable, or more likely unwilling, to be parted from her skin. Then I snatched it away and closed my eyes. My hands came up to my head, my fingers raking through my hair. I stayed with my fingers clawed on my scalp while my brain went ape shit on me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Everything I knew with total certainty about myself was in the garbage can. And then an ice-cold shudder ran through me. Very slowly I turned my head to the left. An unblinking red light was watching me, its regard unnervingly steady. I was recording this. All this was being documented. I felt so ashamed and confused. I felt like a pervert. I stood up and walked to the recording machine. I stood with my finger poised. All I had to do was to press erase. I should erase it. Here was enough evidence to brand me as a sexual molester. I would never work again if this came out. If I erased it, nothing of real importance would be lost. I had not yet begun her journey. I stood there another moment.

And then I put my finger on the erase button.

I pressed record and went to my chair. I remembered my priest in my church, his eyes rheumy and wandering around the congregation: ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’

I sat down on the chair.

‘I want you to go to the day your mother died.’

Her eyes moved under her lids.

‘Are you there?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was soft and distressed.

‘What do you see?’

‘I’m in a corridor. It is dimly lit. And it is cold. It is very cold here. I don’t want to go forward.’

I stared at her, my own transgression forgotten.

‘Why?’

‘Something terrible is going to happen. I’m scared,’ she whimpered. Her breathing had become irregular. Her lips were moving with anxious restlessness but no sounds emitted from them.

‘Olivia, listen to me. There is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can harm you. Pay attention only to my voice. Just take one more little step forward.’

Deep furrows appeared in her forehead and her body started shaking. ‘Please don’t make me go,’ she begged.

To my horror, tears slipped out of her eyes and rolled down her temples. I knew instantly that if I went any further she was in danger of being ripped out of her hypnosis.

‘It’s OK, Olivia,’ I soothed. My voice was calm and measured. ‘You don’t have to go forward. You can leave without feeling frightened or worried. You can leave feeling calm and in control.’ I paused to let the suggestion sink in and for calmness to descend upon her. ‘You are now going to take yourself away from that corridor and go back in time. Go back to one hour before. Can you do that?’

She nodded slowly.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to bed. Ivana is in the room with me. She is putting me to bed. “Sleep well, beautiful child,” she says while stroking my cheek and hair. She smells nice. I like her. She takes good care of Mummy. “Nite, nite, Ivana,” I say and she switches off the light and goes out of the room. I sleep.’

‘Go back another hour. What are you doing now?’

‘I am in my mother’s room. I am tucked up in bed beside her and she is reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to me. Mummy smells of medicine and she has no more hair so she has to wear the scarf that Daddy bought for her in Paris. The one with all the horses. She is so thin I can feel her bones poking into me. And there are blue shadows beneath her eyes. She is pretending to be happy. For me. By her bedside is a tray of food. It is half-eaten. My father comes into the room. He looks ill at ease. He stands by the doorway. Something about his manner makes my mother hold me tighter. Her protruding bones bite into my flesh.

‘“How are you today, old fruit?” he asks awkwardly from the door. “Quite good,” my mother replies crisply. “That’s marvelous,” Daddy says. There is relief in his voice, but he also looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn’t want to be there. “Oh well. I suppose I’ll pop in later to say goodnight.” Mummy smiles sadly. “Of course.”

‘My father retreats and I turn toward my mother. “Mummy, are you dying soon?” My mother turns toward me, and smiles brightly. “Not tonight,” she says and stubs her thin finger onto my nose. “But you can ask me again tomorrow.”

‘“Should I ask you every day?” She says, “That’s a good idea.” And then Ivana comes into the room. It is my bedtime. “Goodnight, Mummy.”

‘“See you in the morning, darling,” she says kissing the top of my head. “I’ll put her to bed,” Ivana says. “Yes, do that,” Mummy says, but her voice is flat and unemotional. At the door I turn back and my mother is staring at me. There is a worried look on her face. When our eyes meet she smiles brightly. “Sweet dreams,” she says.’

I looked at my watch. Her time was almost up. I instructed her to forget the first memory, and then brought her out. She opened her beautiful eyes and trained them on me.

‘Thank you for helping me recover that memory. It was very precious.’ She touched her temples. ‘Did I cry?’

‘Yes,’ I said standing up.

‘I don’t remember crying.’ Her eyes were silver.

‘Just stray emotions,’ I said and moved before the moment could stretch, but damn, I liked her. I liked her way too much.