‘Have you ever had a wish to be invisible?’
‘If I did, it was granted for large parts of my marriage. Sorry. The honest answer is that the temptation has never presented itself even as a fantasy.’
‘Have you ever suffered from depression?’
‘Yes.’
‘Low self-esteem?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Do you ever cry for no reason at all?’
‘That’s almost a philosophical question, but roughly speaking I would say yes to that.’
‘Any suicidal impulses or thoughts?’
‘Not seriously.’
‘Did you ever feel a need to be spotlessly good, or to be the opposite, terribly bad?’
‘I know what you mean. I recognise the feeling.’
‘Have you ever felt that you’re a victim?’
‘Only in my weaker moments. I hope that I’ve never seriously thought of myself as a victim.’
‘Have you ever had a feeling of having possession of a secret? Perhaps with an urge to tell it and a feeling that nobody would believe it if you did?’
‘I’m not sure I understand the question. I don’t think so.’
‘Have you ever taken dangerous risks?’
‘No. I sometimes wish I had.’
‘Have you ever felt an incapacity for taking risks?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you ever daydream?’
‘What did you say? I was miles away. Sorry. Joking. Sometimes, maybe.’
‘Do you feel you’ve ever blocked out a period of your life, especially when you were young?’
‘I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Obviously there are lots of things I don’t remember.’
‘Do you ever worry about being noisy? I mean in experiences such as sex or in social situations or even in the lavatory.’
‘This is getting personal, isn’t it? All right, I’m not embarrassed, I’ll answer. To take them in order. I think I’m quite sexually uninhibited, so I suppose I groan and scream. I’m irritated by people who bray and guffaw at dinner parties and I probably come across as quite restrained in public. I probably attempt to be fairly quiet on the lavatory when there are other people in the vicinity. Don’t most people?’
‘Have you ever felt that sex is dirty?’
‘No, not intrinsically.’
‘Have you ever disliked being touched?’
‘Do you mean sexually?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘I sometimes dislike it when men paw me but in an unfair sort of way it all depends on the man. There have been occasions when I haven’t wanted sex, and then I’ve said so.’
‘What about by a gynaecologist?’
‘I used to dislike being examined by a male gynaecologist. When I was, oh, in my latish twenties, Claud found me a wonderful woman and I’ve been with her ever since. I’ve no problem at all with Sylvia.’
‘Are you repelled by particular sex acts?’
‘I suppose there are one or two that I don’t especially like.’
‘Are there any you are strongly attracted to?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Have you ever been compulsively promiscuous?’
‘No. That might have been fun for a bit and I imagine that college would have been the opportunity to experiment a bit with that but I was involved with Claud quite quickly.’
‘Have you ever been compulsively asexual?’
‘No.’
‘Are you ever preoccupied with thoughts about sex?’
‘I don’t know what you mean by preoccupied. I think about it now and then.’
‘Do you have an impulse to be highly in control of your emotions?’
‘I don’t like to be emotionally uncontrolled.’
‘Do you feel a need to control situations?’
‘Sometimes I try to.’
‘Do you obsessively try to control things that aren’t important?’
‘I can be madly neat or organised sometimes. Compared with Claud I was a real slut.’
‘Do you find it difficult to be happy?’
‘I have felt that about myself.’
‘Do you find it difficult to relax?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you find it difficult to work?’
‘Lately it’s been a bit of a problem.’
‘Do you ever feel you’re crazy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever invented fantasy worlds? Or fantasy relationships?’
‘Not since I was a girl.’
‘Have you ever felt that you were real and everything else was a sham?’
‘I know what you mean but I can’t honestly say that I have. I’ve always been a bit too boringly rational. I probably felt it when I was little, the way everybody does.’
‘Or vice versa?’
‘You mean that I was a sham? That’s more likely. I still sometimes have the sense that everybody else is a real grown-up and I’m just pretending to be one and that I’m still really a child.’
‘Are you afraid to succeed?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Do any kinds of food or tastes frighten or disgust you?’
‘No, but I will make the secret confession that deep down I’ve never really cared for sprouts or cauliflower.’
‘Do you ever feel a sense of doom?’
‘Yes.’
Now Alex didn’t speak for a long time but wrote furiously on his notepad, occasionally flicking the pages back. After a painful few minutes he closed it.
‘How did I do? Did I pass?’
When Alex replied, he was more serious than I’d ever heard him before.
‘It has been said that if you answer positively to more than half a dozen or so of the questions I put to you, then this may be evidence of a submerged trauma.’
‘What do you mean “submerged”?’
‘An event, or a series of events, that you have made yourself forget.’
‘Come on, Alex, the things in that list of questions could apply to anybody. Who on earth wouldn’t say yes to some of them?’
‘Don’t try to brush this off, Jane. You’ve gone along with this very conscientiously until now. The questions are carefully constructed to uncover symptoms of anxiety which may be evidence of something deeper. I’m not making a diagnosis but it’s something we ought to think about. Tell me, Jane, you’ve been putting yourself back into the landscape from where Natalie disappeared. You’ve been doing it with great commitment. I’m very impressed. But tell me, what does that landscape make you feel? Does it give you any feeling of dread? Do you feel that there is something there? Something hidden?’
I suddenly felt cold, lying there on the couch, as I always do when I lie still for an extended period of time, even in a well heated house such as Alex’s. It was my bad circulation again.
‘Yes, it scares me. What is it that interests you about it, Alex?’
‘I’ve always tried to follow your lead, Jane. I asked you about Natalie’s disappearance and you gave me a landscape. I want to send you into that landscape and see what you find. Does that seem worth trying?’
‘Yes, all right.’
So we went through our familiar ritual. I felt pleased with Alex’s approval, as if I was becoming his star pupil. He talked softly to me. My body relaxed, I closed my eyes and placed myself back there beside the Col. Session by session, this was becoming easier and the world in which I found myself was each time more vivid.
I was sitting down, my back resting on the dry mossy stone at the foot of Cree’s Top, the river on my left flowing away, the last screwed up pieces of paper floating round the curve, the elms on the edge of the woods to my right.
Without any prompting I was able to stand up and turn round. The river was now on my right flowing towards me and away behind me, the elms and the woods were on my left. Now I was looking at the path winding up the slope of Cree’s Top. There were thick bushes by its side, and it occasionally disappeared from view as it snaked its way up the slope, but I could see almost all of it. It was all more vivid than before. The leaves were greener and more defined against the sunlight from above. As I moved my head round I could focus on any part of my surroundings and move in on them, on to the small stones on the path that had been pushed to the sides by the passage of feet that had also worn the ground down, exposing larger stones and the roots of trees. Almost without an impulse on my part I started to step forward along the path. Looking down, I saw my feet wearing black gym shoes of a kind I hadn’t owned since I was at school. I was now well along the path and moving up the hill and away from where I had been sitting. When I turned to my right, I was looking down the slope at the river. When I turned to my left, I was looking into the woods towards the Stead. Suddenly all became dark. I looked up and a heavy black cloud was passing overhead. The air turned cold, a shiver passed through me and I turned and ran down the hill. I carefully sat myself in my original position, the stone crusty against my spine.