Rehab Blues Read online

  ***

  “OK, David, what’s the problem?”

  Helen, David and JC had a few discreet codes they used on their mobile phones, just in case they were being hacked into by some overzealous journalist. One of them, a single exclamation mark, was ‘code red’ meaning a real and immediate big problem. It was not yet seven in the morning and JC, Helen and David were already convened in David’s office.

  “Well, Helen, it’s like this. Tracy’s gone. She arrived back home in Manchester about half an hour ago in a black cab all the way from London. I’ve just taken a ferocious call from the mum. Apparently Tracy stormed in like a person possessed. The mother’s a wreck; Tracy’s having a rant at anything that moves. Martin’s been getting no end of grief from the missus. I mean, non-stop… she keeps going on about fillet steak or something. She’s been threatening to drown her sister. Think we better check the emergency medicine cabinet. Tracy’s apparently going to Max Griffiths later today, that’s if the mum doesn’t go to the lawyers first. This is going to be all over the papers tomorrow, one way or the other.”

  David took breath and buried his head in his hands. “I don’t think The Place is going to come out of this one too well. The mother’s take is that Tracy nearly drowned, The Place is full of perverts and Huck the micro-psycho has been turned into a little baby and might end up in a nuthouse. Can’t get much worse. Shit, it can – just remembered – Martin’s got a home derby this afternoon. He’ll be lucky if he can remember who he’s playing for.”

  Helen stood up and composed herself. “Listen. I’ll talk to Tracy, and mum. Just give me a few minutes, that’s all I need. I’ll start with Tracy. I’ve got her mobile, she’ll talk to me.”

  David and JC had total confidence that Helen knew what to do, so they left her to it. For this type of challenge they knew Helen needed to be left alone. Not more than twenty minutes had passed before both David and JC received another coded message on their mobiles, this time just two letters, ‘OK’, and they headed straight back to David’s office.

  Helen was sitting in David’s chair, a serene smile clearly displaying a high degree of satisfaction.

  “So, it’s ‘OK’, Helen. How is it now ‘OK’?” asked David.

  “You two are both men, so you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try us, Helen” said David.

  “It’s quite simple – to a member of the superior sex. Tracy doesn’t want revenge. Not really. She doesn’t want to do Martin in, or her mother. The sister’s a different issue… what Tracy wants is Martin. He’s the father of her daughter. She wants Martin to grow up, to be a responsible and loving father and husband. Some peace and family love, that’s all.”

  “Still don’t get it, Helen. And…?” JC was a bit slow on the uptake, but David was already there. “Don’t tell me Helen – there’s a deal afoot.”

  “That’s right David, a deal’s afoot. When my mobile receives a text message with the letter ‘y’ it’s a done deal’”

  As if the telephone was part of the conversation it buzzed in Helen’s hand. It took Helen a few seconds to access the message. Helen’s broad smile was enough confirmation for David and JC.

  “OK, what’s the deal?” asked David.

  “The deal, gentleman, is that Martin spends a few days with us, starting this very evening. He’s to head down straight after the match. Apparently he’s been persuaded he needs a bit of addiction therapy at The Place. If he does appear and there’s improvement in his behaviour, then Tracy will be happy. Max has already been told to stand down. She reckons it will at least be a start – as she puts it – to an ‘honest conversation’ between her and Martin, and her mother. Maybe even her sister.”

  David let out an exaggerated sigh of relief and looked to the heavens and said ‘thank you’ to no one in particular. He had just been handed a get out of jail card, and he knew it. And he was bound to have great time with one of his all time heroes.

  “Who are we going to let Martin double-up with? I’m not really sure placing Martin with Huck will work, seeing as Huck’s about six months old at the moment, putting Toni and Martin together would go against our policy of not mixing like with like and Richard really needs his own space right now. Maybe we’ll have to juggle them around a bit.” David was on to the practicalities right away.

  Helen gave David one of her knowing, mischievous smiles. Perhaps it was because JC, Helen and David had been through so much together, or perhaps they had simply learnt to communicate so well with each other; whatever it was they all knew that for every problem, there was always a solution. As David liked to say: ‘there are no problems; only opportunities’. It was simply a state of mind.

  “I’ll have a word with Toni,” said Helen. “That’s all there is to it. Let’s talk a bit later, David.”

  “Helen” said David, “I’m getting worried, you know. I thought my job was the ‘fixer’. You’re getting better at this than me.”

  “Well, David. Didn’t you say ‘it’s a poor pupil who doesn’t overtake his master’?”

  “Hmm. Thought that was Bruce Lee. Or wait a minute, was it Confucius? One or the other. Maybe it works both ways, Helen. I mean, if you’re my pupil at fixing then I must be your pupil at this therapy lark.” Helen was always going to get in the last word. “David, is there any difference?”

  6

  “Hi, Paul. Thanks for seeing me. I wondered if you have a moment?”

  “For you, David, I’ve always a moment. Will this take long? I was hoping to catch a flight to LA later today. Just got a recall to Washington. Don’t need that on top of everything else, but hell, I ain’t complaining. It’s all a bit up in the air at the moment. I can always re-schedule, if it’s worth my while. My clients seem to like the fact that I’m so in demand. That was a great session by the way with Huck. Textbook stuff. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s like this Paul. I’m a man down on the therapy side. How’s your hypnotherapy studying coming along? I mean are actually you doing it, or still – like – studying?”

  “David, I’m surprised. Didn’t you hear how I got Huck and the group into the session?”

  “Yeah, I heard Paul. But that wasn’t hypnotism – that was manipulation – wasn’t it?”

  Paul smiled a little evil grin. “Not much difference, really. Just a matter of control, you know, without being seen to be in control.”

  “OK, Paul. That’s all I need. Got a challenge for you.”

  “Let’s hear it, David.”

  ***

  Gustav Grolsh, whose past was a swirling mist of implausible stories without end, was ‘multi-talented’, in therapy terminology. ‘Gootsy’, as he liked to be called, was best known for his laughter therapy, was a pretty good Hatha Yoga teacher, and if truth be told a sophisticated and talented masseuse, but his speciality was Primitive Screaming Therapy.

  “OK, my friends. I know Richard pretty well already. That was a real breakthrough one-on-one session the other day. You did great Richard, you really did. You’ll be heading the next laughter session.”

  Richard went all coy, like he did at school when his maths teacher praised him for good homework in front of his peers. Richard felt, and was, well chuffed.

  Gootsy excelled at ‘PST’ as he called it. Gootsy loved PST, so much so he liked to improvise or ‘play’ with the ‘fear of fun and the fun of fear’ which was about as far as the coherent explanation of his ‘art’ went. He knew some people thought it was a bit far out, but he believed it was only a matter of time before the naysayers would get it. He’d also learnt to avoid too much theorising before the event itself.

  He accepted that getting PST recognised as mainstream was never going to be easy, partly because a feeling of release and well-being couldn’t be seen under a microscope, and then there was always the practical difficulty of finding the right – sound-proofed – space. It was unfortunate
that on film at least, PST always came across as pretty freaky; on that point there was no debate.

  Gootsy also accepted that as an advocate of PST he did look a tad weird with his stick-like body and long, straggly, thin, grey hair – but time, he felt, was on his side. After all, he was always in demand at The Place – and many other rehabs all over the world.

  “So, who we got here today? I know Richard. You must be Betty, then there’s – wait a minute don’t tell me – Annie and – of course – Toni. Now, my name is Gustav, but I like to be called Gootsy. Is that OK? Today we’re going for a touch of Primitive Screaming Therapy, or ‘PST’ as I call it. It’s my very own creation. Now, are we all here?”

  No one wanted to mention Huck, and Tracy had been all but been forgotten in the blink of an eye. It was like that in The Place. The whole experience often seemed quite surreal to the short-stay journeymen, particularly if their faculties were impaired by the sudden deprivation of their favourite fix; guests came and went like bit players in a half-remembered dream.

  To Gootsy the group was just about perfect.

  “Now before we get into this, we need to be relaxed, and warmed up. So a few basic exercises just to loosen us up and we’ll be right in. Just copy me. Now, on the spot – imagine you’re running for the last bus home.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” said Betty under her breath. “Can’t I just wait for a taxi?”

  “Now now, Betty. I heard that. Behave. Just move… up and down a bit – as best you can – we need to get everything moving and relaxed. Push those arms up and up… as if you’re trying to catch a falling snowflake before it melts. Keep going. OK, we’re off; I think we need some sounds.”

  Gootsy went over to the very discreetly hidden state-of-the-art hi-fi system and pressed a button or two on a remote control; his playlist of special effects was already loaded.

  The basement room of The Place was another ‘art form’ as Helen called it. The speakers were so ultra modern and gave such a great all-round sound that it would take an expert to work out where the speakers were actually placed.

  “OK, let’s talk a little walk around the room. Follow me.”

  Gootsy started to walk, not quite in a circle, but randomly, and the group followed. He walked quicker and quicker; the small group managed their best to keep up, for a while, and then he stopped.

  “OK, we’re going to do that one again, but this time, imagine you’re in a dark forest and you can hear a worrying sound behind you. Off you go, on your own. And mind the low-hanging branches. And the spiders – they’re deadly.”

  Gootsy broke away from the group and twiddled with the dimmer switch. The room darkened slightly but noticeably.

  “Now, stop where you are. Standing on the spot, shake your arms around, shake everything about. Close your eyes. OK, now relax. Let’s all breath in. Hold it, now breathe out. Slowly. Breathe in, hold it again. Now out… slowly. Let your mind empty of all thoughts. Relax. And breathe. Relax. Breathe in… and out. Keep going. Now open your eyes – wide open – and run, run as if some thing is about to get you. OK, that’s enough, now stop! Don’t make a sound, don’t move an inch.”

  And so it went on, only for a few minutes, but soon everyone was very tired but relaxed, dizzy even. The small group was told to come to a complete halt, again. “OK, eyes closed, silence, absolute total silence” instructed Gootsy in a whisper. The silence seemed to go on for a long time.

  Out of the blue, and without warning, a sound filled the room like a scream from the depths of hell. The group screamed back in terror, particularly Richard, who had a totally different expectation of ‘PST’.

  Gootsy laughed. “Oh I love that bit. What were you expecting – Michael Jackson?”

  The room seem to get darker; the group sort of huddled together, not knowing what to expect next. Another sound come from nowhere and filled the entire room. It was the sound of waves breaking on the shore. The group huddled even closer, like the last few fish of what once was a large safe shoal of a carefree species about to be finally swallowed in one last go by the big beast. The waves crashed louder and louder. And then silence.

  Toni was the fall guy, today. Stepping forward he wiped his brow with relief as if it was all over. The others weren’t so dumb. Now the seemingly invisible speakers emitted a sort of heavy breathing which appeared to get louder and louder, closer and closer.

  “What the hell is this, scare-the-shit-out-of-you therapy?” Betty’s attempt at diffusing the situation was not very successful.

  “Now” barked Gootsy pretending not to hear Betty. “Scream, as if your life depends on it, scream! Or they’ll get you!”

  The troupe didn’t need that much encouragement. They were ready to scream and they didn’t hold back. They screamed even louder when the heavy breathing stopped and some indescribably unearthly roar filled the room, quickly followed by all manner of B movie horror effects: a cacophony of screams, cries, moans, creaking doors, bangs, and crunching sounds.

  How long this went on for was the subject of much debate. As with the rebirthing, the entire session had lasted less than half an hour, but felt like an eternity.

  Suddenly the penny dropped that the room had brightened and Gootsy was clearly seen pushing another button or two on the remote control which operated the hi-fi system.

  The entire group spontaneously lay down on the floor as if they had been asked to play dead. There were distinctive collective murmurings of ‘oh god’, ‘what was that?’ with a few ‘it’s over, please, tell me it’s over’. The group gradually began to prise themselves, one by one, off their backs to sit and then gradually – with some effort – to stand upright giving the collective impression they had just finished a parents’ one hundred metres race.

  “Now, wasn’t that fun?” asked Gootsy as if they had just come off a routine theme park ride. “Let’s take a comfort break and we’ll get straight into the laughter zone.”

  Toni looked down at his lightly coloured track suit which now had a distinctive brand new dark patch around the groin area.

  “Er, I’m OK with that one, Gootsy. Already had my comfort break, thanks.”

  Richard and Betty both sweating profusely, were more than ready for a comfort break and headed straight for the door, passing David and the rebirther, Paul, who gingerly stepped into the room.

  “Everything OK, Gustav, I mean Gootsy. You know Paul, don’t you?” asked David.

  Gootsy and Paul embraced like long lost brothers.

  “Sure we know each other, you know that” said Paul, realising that it wasn’t the right time to display his friendship with David.

  “Bit unusual for you to er… interrupt the proceedings… anything the matter?” enquired Gootsy.

  “No, nothing the matter,” said David. “Just thought we might borrow Annie, you know, for a few minutes.”

  Annie, still in a state of mild-to-extreme shock, sweating to such an extent she looked as if she had just been for a swim, looked around with some relief. The thought had crossed Annie’s mind that Gootsy was actually a long-term guest who had flipped some time ago. Perhaps he had just escaped from the yet-to-be-revealed dungeon where all manner of cock-ups were hidden.

  “OK, I’ll tell you what” said Gootsy. “Why don’t we leave you here with Annie, and we’ll all catch up a bit later – say in half an hour. I’ll tell Betty and Richard. I think the last session really hit the spot – they might welcome a break. That OK with you Toni?”

  “Sure” said Toni, worried that he might sound as shaken as he felt. “Any chance of a fresh track suit David, this one’s been seen better days. Better give it some Vanish, you know, round the back. Think Betty was right.”

  David tried to pretend he couldn’t detect the odour coming from Toni and the reference to Betty went straight over his head. “Will do Toni. See you later.”

  “OK, Annie. Let’s sit dow
n, if that’s OK. Paul’s had a brilliant idea. Do you mind if he shares it with you?”

  Annie sort of smirked as if she was going to be awarded a special prize. The three of them sat down on the floor in a cosy little circle.

  “Now, Annie. Have you any objections to a bit of hypnotherapy?”

  “Like, right now?” asked Annie.

  “Yeah, that’s the idea, right now.”

  Annie was up for anything her manager could afford. “Fine with me, let’s do it, right now. That’s kind of what we’re here for. Shoot.”

  “Annie, this is all about you. So, are you up for a bit of hypnotherapy with Paul, right here, right now?”

  “Sure am, David.”

  “OK, I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve got work to do.”

  David stood up indicating that it was time for him to leave, at which point his mobile phone buzzed inside his trouser pocket.

  “Fine with me” said Annie, “I’ll catch you later”.

  David flipped his mobile phone as soon as he had stepped outside the Encounter Area and knew it was an old mate Henry Stallard on the other end.

  “Listen, David. I’m not phoning about any of your guests, it’s something else, something a bit more serious. Can we meet later? Maybe at the café at Kenwood House, we need somewhere real discreet.”

  “Sure, Henry. Is tomorrow OK, about 10 a.m.?”

  “David, I mean like in half an hour, not tomorrow.”

  “Shit, Henry, that serious?”

  “Yep, David, that serious. I’d rather not go into any detail on this line.”

  ***

  “Do you feel as bad as you look, Ralph? Don’t go dying on me pal; it’ll screw up our insurance premiums for the next quarter. Could even screw up my bonus.” Simon was a great believer in tough love.