I edge along the wall.' Another spasm. He thought he almost saw something; was it in the room or in his head?
'Take a rest, Jack. Ruth?'
'I go down the steps. I'm ready to run at any moment, but I'm aware I've got heels on. If the worst comes to the worst I'll have to kick them off. They're expensive though … I don't want to lose them. It's dark under the bridge. I can't see anything. I move closer. I think I've bitten my lip … I can taste blood.' She heaved in another juddering breath; each one was getting harder and harder. 'There're two men. They just look like shadows at first. One of them's big, the biggest man I've ever seen. He's shaking the smaller one. I look over and there's another man there watching the fight. I can see he's come from the other side. I'm relieved … I'm not alone.'
'Is it jack?' Delano asked quietly.
'Yes, yes, it's Church. He's got a strong face. He looks decent. He makes me feel safer. We both look at the two men-'
'Is he dead?' Church suddenly interjected, his voice too loud. 'Christ, I think he's dead! No … he's moving. But the giant's picking him up. How can he be so strong? Just one arm … what's going on? … he's going to break his neck!'
'Calm down,' Delano hushed.
'Don't do it or I'm going to call the police!' Ruth yelled. She snapped forward in her seat, then slumped back.
'Take it easy now,' Delano said soothingly. 'Be peacef-'
'Stop!' Church thrashed to one side. Delano placed a comforting hand on Church's forearm, but Church knocked it away wildly.
'He's looking-' Ruth was wheezing, but she couldn't seem to draw any breath into her lungs.
11 — at us!' Church continued.
Delano was alarmed at the paleness of her face. 'I think that's enough now,' he began. 'It's time to take a break. We can come back to this.'
'My God! Look at-' Church gasped.
'— his face! It's changing-'
— melting-'
They were convulsing in their seats. Delano grabbed both their wrists, gripped by anxiety that he was losing control; they were all losing control. He stood up so he could place his head between them. 'On the count of three …'
'Not human!'
'His eyes-'
— red-'
— a demon!' Ruth gasped. 'Twisted … monstrous …' She leaned to one side and vomited on to the carpet.
'One …'
'Evil!' Jack cried. 'I feel evil coming off it! It's looking at me!'
Ruth vomited again, then stumbled off the chair to her knees.
'I can't bear to look at its face!'
'Three …'
For a second, Delano was terrified he wouldn't be able to bring them out of it, but gradually they seemed to come together, as if he were watching them swim up from deep water. Church bobbed forward and put his face in his hands. He felt like he was burning up, his hair slick with sweat. Ruth levered herself back into the chair and sat there with her eyes shut.
Delano was visibly shaken. There was sweat on his own brow and his hands were trembling as he switched off the tape recorder. Frantically he thumbed the remote control until the light flared up too bright and drove the shadows from the room. 'Well that was an unusual experience,' he mumbled bathetically. He fetched them both water, which they sipped in silence. Then called in his assistant to clean up the carpet. It was a full ten minutes until they had recovered.
'That was unbelievable,' Church said eventually. His voice was like sandpaper in the arid stillness of the room.
'You're right,' Ruth responded, 'because it's not true.'
'What do you mean?' Church eyed her curiously. 'We saw the same thing.'
Ruth shook her head emphatically. 'Think about it, Church. There must be a rational explanation. We have to use a little intellectual rigour here-the first answer isn't always the right one. We were talking about how memories can be corrupted by other aspects of the mind's working. That can happen, can't it?' she said to Delano. He nodded. 'Remember in the pub you made some throwaway comment about us seeing the Devil, so that's exactly what we did see. You placed that thought in both our heads and our subconscious turned it into reality. It was self-fulfilling.' She looked to Delano for support.
'Your reactions were very extreme, which suggests a serious trauma buried away, but if you witnessed a particularly brutal murder, as you told me on the phone, that would explain it,' the therapist said. 'What you recalled today is known as a screen memory. You create it yourself to protect your own mind from further trauma. Yes, it was quite horrible, but the unbelievable elements allow you to dismiss it within the context of reality as you perceive it so it's not as threatening as it first appears. The true memory that lies beneath is much more of a threat to you. I think we'll need a few more sessions to get to it, to be honest.' Delano's smile suggested he was relieved by his own explanation. 'I must admit, I was a little worried. I've never come across anything quite like that before.'
Church wasn't convinced. 'It was pretty real.'
'Sorry about the carpet,' Ruth said sheepishly. Church thought she was going to burst into a fit of embarrassed giggles.
'Don't worry,' Delano said. 'Let me just check the recording and I'll make arrangements to get your cassette copy.'
He knelt down and rewound the tape. When he pressed play there was a blast of white noise and what sounded like an ear-splitting shriek of hysterical laughter. Delano's brow furrowed. He ran the tape forward a little and tried again. The white noise hissed from the speakers. A second later the giggling started, fading in and out as if it was a badly tuned radio signal, the laughter growing louder and louder until Church's ears hurt; it made him feel sick and uncomfortable. Delano snapped off the recorder in dismay.
'I'm terribly sorry. That's never happened before,' he said in bafflement. 'It must have picked up some stray signal.'
'Remind me not to book with that mini-cab service,' Church said.
Outside, the rain had stopped briefly to allow a burst of insipid sunlight, but the oppressive experience with Delano clung to them. Their reclaimed memories, even if false, were now free, scurrying round, insect-like, in the back of their heads, making them feel queasy and disoriented.
'I feel much better after that, even if we didn't find out exactly what happened,' Ruth said, trying to put a brave face on it. She gave Church a comforting pat on the back. 'Come on, don't let it get to you. It was a bad dream, that's all.'
Church looked round at the black office windows above the shops, unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. 'I need a drink.'
'Let's see what we can do about that.'
She took him for lunch to Wodka, a Polish restaurant nestling in the hinterland of well-heeled apartment blocks on Kensington High Street's south side. Over blinis and cream and ice-cold honey vodka, they discussed the morning's events and what lay ahead. Church was taken by Ruth's brightly efficient manner and sharp sense of humour which helped her see the inherent farce in even the bleakest moment.
'You always seem like you've got something on your mind,' Ruth said when she felt comfortable enough to talk a little more personally.
'You know how it is.' Church sipped at the strong Polish coffee, but if Ruth noticed his discomfort she didn't pay it any heed.
