The Hypnotist Page 8

  Pip noticed a tiny smile flicker on Hannah’s face. And Jack seemed suddenly animated.

  ‘Ah now, this is marvellous! Now we’re away . . . And I’ve thought of something else. Ha, ha, yes! There’s another clever thing about Pip’s name . . . and – guess what? – your name is clever in exactly the same way, Hannah! Look. Let’s write your names side by side: PIP and HANNAH.’

  The children stared at the words. Pip leaned a little too close and Hannah elbowed him firmly away; but their concentration was intense.

  In a flash the answer came to him. It was as if Pip’s brain was awakening after years of hibernation, and he recalled the sensation of pleasing his mother with his clever answers.

  ‘The names are the same forward an’ backward – ain’t that right, Jack?’

  Jack leaped up with excitement, practically knocking his chair to the floor.

  ‘Oh my goodness! The man’s got it! I don’t believe it! Oh, you are clever people! Now, would you look at this, Hannah? The names are the same forwards and backwards! Try it: HANNAH and PIP. Each name works the same from the front and from the back. It’s what we call a palindrome, see? I used to love palindromes – are we not drawn onward to new era; that’s another long one – but I won’t bother you with that now . . .’

  He told them he’d fetch them a treat, and soon he was banging cupboard doors and clanking plates in the kitchen.

  Hannah and Pip sat opposite each other at the table. Pip’s doubts about the lesson had evaporated. He had enjoyed himself and he had loved the opportunity to show off his ability to Hannah. He was smart – Mama had said so, Lilybelle said it, and now Jack said it too.

  Hannah examined the eraser at the end of her pencil. Pip fidgeted with the laces on his boots – for days now his boots hadn’t felt right. Either the boots were shrinking or his feet were growing. He noticed Hannah’s bare feet swinging under her chair, perfectly small and caramel brown.

  He grinned at her, and for the very first time since he had arrived at Dead River she did not look away.

  Jack returned with mugs of sweet tea and a tub of blueberry ice cream. As they licked happily at their spoons, a warm feeling of mutual trust settled in the room. Jack said, ‘I think I’m going to enjoy working with you two, I really do.’

  Jack gave Pip an exercise book too, then asked them to write their names and ages on the cover. As Pip wrote his age, he realized that it was only two weeks until his fourteenth birthday. Then he would be almost a man. Hannah wrote her name, but Pip was astonished to discover that she had no idea what date or year she was born. How was that possible?

  In the following hour Jack set about assessing their educational ability and Pip was keen to prove himself. He wrote some sentences in his best handwriting, completed a few elementary sums, and read aloud to Jack. All the while Jack made notes in his notebook, and finally told them that, in his estimation, they were both exceptionally bright, although it was clear that Hannah had received little formal education and Pip, whose early tuition had been outstanding, seemed to have fallen well behind in recent years.

  While they worked, Hannah and Pip exchanged glances – submissive and puppy-like from Pip; wary and irritable from Hannah. At last Jack seemed to realize that their concentration had reached its limit and he began to close the books and collect the pencils and pens.

  Then Pip said, ‘You said you was gonna teach that trick, Mr Jack, sir. The one you done with Erwin.’

  ‘Ah, well, it wasn’t a trick exactly, Pip. It’s certainly something I’d be glad to talk about on another occasion, but—’

  ‘You shoulda seen it, Hannah! Erwin was set to kill me . . . then he . . . kinda fell asleep.’

  ‘Well, in a manner of speaking he did fall asleep, although he could hear what I was saying, couldn’t he? What happened with Erwin was a little thing we call hypnosis. You’ve heard of it, right? Well, it’s what I do. Hypnosis is my trade. It’s a funny sort of job, I’ll grant you.’

  ‘Show me how t’ do it, Jack. I wanna know so I can make folks do what I tell ’em, ’stead of always doing what they say.’

  ‘Well, some people can’t be hypnotized no matter how you try. Erwin was pretty resistant, wasn’t he? I had a struggle to win him round. But other people are easier to hypnotize. They’re what we call susceptible.’

  ‘Am I sissyball?’

  ‘Well, you know, Pip, from the moment I saw you I thought there was something about you. I said to myself, “Jack Morrow, if ever there was a fellow who was susceptible, then I’m looking right at him.” I’ll tell you what – you’ve both done extremely well today, so I suppose there’d be no harm in finding out for sure. We’ll try a little game, shall we? Clasp your hands together, Pip – and you too, Hannah, if you’d like to play. That’s right, just interlink the fingers of each hand as if you were praying, and squeeze the fingers together good and tight. That’s it – now cross the thumbs right in front of your face.’

  Pip and Hannah sat at the table, hands clasped tightly in front of their eyes, as if in prayer.

  ‘Now just raise the index finger of each hand – that’s your pointing fingers, Hannah. Good. Get the two fingers up nice and straight as if you were pointing at the ceiling. It’s a steeple on a church, if you like. But keep the fingertips apart, see – don’t let them touch. Now I need you to stare hard at the tips of those two fingers . . . and as you relax, you stare right at them . . . but keep them separate. Now . . . listen to my voice . . . and imagine for a moment that you have a tiny magnet in each fingertip . . . Can you feel the magnets? Your fingertips feel like they are pulling together, but you keep them apart . . . You keep staring at the fingertips . . . and keep your hands praying nice and tight . . .’

  Pip’s fingertips began oscillating violently.

  ‘You just stare at your fingers . . . with the magnets inside . . . and although you want to keep them apart, the magnets are very, very strong and . . .’

  Pip was gone! It was as if Jack Morrow’s voice had carried him away into a lovely warm and comfortable world. He stared at his index fingers, and it felt like they were firmly glued at the tips.

  Whether Hannah felt the same or not he could not tell, but Pip was vaguely aware of Jack gently lifting one of his eyelids with a huge fingertip. And then, somewhere far away, he saw Jack leaning towards him to shine a small flashlight into the pupil of his eye. When Jack spoke – it was as if his voice came from many miles away across the fields – he asked Pip to follow his finger with his eyes, and Pip found he had no choice but to stare transfixed at the mountainous finger, which swung slowly from side to side.

  After a very long time he heard that distant voice counting again, and slowly Pip felt himself rise up through a warm ocean of treacle, until he submerged into the white room, where Jack was making notes.

  Pip stared about in amazement. The air seemed unnaturally bright and clear. He had been somewhere else entirely, though exactly where and for how long he could not say. When he was sure that his mouth would work, Pip said, ‘Wal, what you say, Mr Jack? Am I sissyball?’

  Jack was obviously excited. ‘Pip, you are extraordinarily sissyball! You are perhaps the most naturally susceptible subject I have ever met. But, look – my task here is to teach you writing, reading and arithmetic! Hypnosis was never part of the job description.’

  ‘I wanna do it, Jack. I don’t know why, but I want you to hyp’tize me properly like you done with Erwin.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, Pip. But you’ve had enough of people exploiting you in your life – you both have – so I don’t want to take advantage in any way. However, you’re absolutely right – hypnosis can be like a martial art. When I was young, bullies often picked on me and I’ve lost track of the number of times hypnosis saved my skin.’

  ‘But how did you learn it, Jack? Someone musta taught you.’

  A distant look came across his face. ‘My parents taught me when I was very small, and their parents taught them . . .’

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sp; Pip rose to his feet and picked up the sepia photograph in the frame. ‘Is this them, Jack, sir? Is this your ma ’n pa?’

  ‘Yes, that’s them . . . Well, all right. If you want to know a little about me, I suppose there’s no harm. It’s a lovely evening, so why don’t we all sit out on the deck and I’ll tell you something about Jack Morrow? I’ll tell you about the Voice of the Wind . . .’

  15

  The Voice of the Wind

  Hannah and Pip sit side by side on the swing seat with Finnegan across their laps. I realize that the children are the first real visitors I’ve had at the bungalow.

  Hannah seems more than a little irritable about having the boy so close, but Pip pulls off his old boots and settles in like he’s swinging in heaven.

  I love the early evenings in this part of the world – when the heat of the day has softened but it’s still warm enough to sit in your shirtsleeves and listen to the song of the crickets and smell the blossom in the air.

  The two of them rock backwards and forwards, forwards and back, and when they are quite settled I begin my story. I take them right back to the Old Country where I was born . . . ‘It’s a colourful tale,’ I tell them, ‘and the way my parents met was more than a little romantic . . .

  ‘See, between the wars my father worked in the theatres of Dublin. He had his own show three nights a week and people flocked to see him. He worked under the name “Morrow the Mesmerist”.’

  ‘What’s a mesmerist, Jack?’ asks Pip.

  ‘Well, Pip, a mesmerist is another name for a hypnotist, and my father was the best in the business. He never had a night without a full house. At one time Morrow the Mesmerist was the most famous stage hypnotist in Ireland – maybe in the whole world.

  ‘My da specialized in fast techniques of hypnosis such as his incredible “handshake induction”. Here’s the way it works – maybe you can picture this, Hannah . . . There’s five hundred or a thousand people in a gorgeous theatre on a Saturday night. When everyone is settled, the house lights go down and my father enters the stage in almost total darkness. He was a small fellow, but good-looking – like me! – and with a colossal stage presence. He stands in the dark with nothing but a few candles below his face. Now, my da had the same thing with the eyes as me, so you can imagine the effect. He says absolutely nothing at all, and after a few moments everyone stops chattering and the whole theatre falls silent, and there’s not one person in the room who isn’t staring at him.

  ‘“I’d like a willing volunteer,” he says, ever so quietly. Loads of people raise their hands. Then a spotlight plays slowly around the audience and my father is selecting “his man”, or “his lady”. Exactly what qualities he’s searching for I’m not about to reveal, but what he’s not looking for is the drunk fellow who wants to show off to his friends, or the shy girl who’s being pushed forward by her girlfriends. It’s like I told you, there are certain people who are naturally susceptible to hypnosis—’

  ‘Like me!’ says Pip.

  ‘Like you, Pip . . . and my father and I can spot them a mile away. When I was a nipper, we used to play a game down Drumcondra road. “Is that one, Da?” I used to say. “Is that one there?”

  ‘In the theatre Morrow the Mesmerist picks out his “mark”. Let’s say it’s a quiet but confident lady in her thirties. Well, right from the start Da has blocked out the rest of the audience and he’s fixed straight onto her eyes. She comes forward down the aisle and the audience are making a hell of a din, but there’s not one second when he hasn’t got those startling eyes locked right onto hers. She approaches the steps in front of the stage, and – this is important – my father reaches out his hand to help her up . . . It’s an invitation, see! As far as anyone can tell he’s helping her up the steps, but what’s he’s actually doing is asking permission to control her mind . . . Are you with me, so far?’

  Their wide eyes tell me they are.

  ‘Now, what you have to understand is that by accepting his hand and stepping onto his territory, the subject has given her consent. In the few seconds it takes her to climb the steps, my father begins whispering to her – he’s imparting a whole series of what we call “subliminal commands”, so that by the time she stands on the stage, the transaction is complete and our quiet but confident lady is in a deeply hypnotic state—’

  ‘Jack! Jack – that’s what you done with Erwin!’

  ‘Exactly, Pip. It was the same thing. I used the old “handshake induction”. I invited him up here on the deck, and when he took my hand, he was actually giving me permission to put him into trance.’

  ‘He was lying right here,’ says Pip. ‘Exactly where we’re sittin’ now. You shoulda seen it, Hannah!’

  ‘In the theatre two dramatic spotlights pop on – one on my father, and the other on the lady, who looks for all the world like a dummy in a shop window. By now, you could hear a pin drop in the auditorium.

  ‘There are plenty of stage hypnotists who’ll do all manner of foolish things to entertain their audience – they’ll get their subject to bark like a dog, or take their clothes off, or cluck about the stage like Zachery’s hens! But Morrow the Mesmerist never lowered himself to that. He was a professional! He was a genius! My father would never humiliate people – on the contrary, the point of the show was to reveal the hidden talents we all carry inside. Why, I have seen the shyest of people belting out opera tunes in front of a crowded theatre, or speaking in languages they didn’t know they had. The most extraordinary feat of all was what my da called regression. Regression is where a subject is taken back through the years to their childhood and even – so my father believed – into past lives!’

  Hannah and Pip swing their bare toes in unison, backwards and forwards, forwards and back, and I see they are right with me in the foggy gaslit streets of old Dublin . . .

  ‘Well, the story goes that one evening, long before my six siblings and I were even a glimmer in those amazing eyes, Morrow the Mesmerist heard that a rival hypnotist had set up another show in a theatre not two streets away. He was more than a little irritated because people were forever copying his ideas. So my da decides to investigate – he buys a ticket, and on his next night off he pops round the corner to see a performer calling herself “The Voice of the Wind”.

  ‘Well, all I can tell you is his annoyance quickly changed to delight – in fact he was literally entranced by what he saw! As I’m sure you’ll have guessed, The Voice of the Wind was the wonderful woman who became my mother.

  ‘Ma was a performer through and through. She loved to dress in fancy clothes, bless her! She adored veils and bangles and exotic costumes with backdrops of pyramids and whatnot. The long and the short of it was that, for the first time in his life, Morrow the Mesmerist fell under a woman’s spell!

  ‘See, my mother had developed a truly sensational act in which she hypnotized not just a couple of volunteers . . . Ah no! My mother hypnotized the entire audience! I witnessed the act many times, and I can tell you it was something to behold! Every night of her life the punters would leave slapping their heads and rubbing their eyes with disbelief. What’s more, it was the real thing – no tricks; no illusions. The thing I’m trying to tell you is that both my ma and my da possessed that rare thing we call The Gift. In Ireland it’s sometimes known as “The Charm” or “The Cure”, but we Morrows always called it The Gift.

  ‘My mother was a star all right, but more than anything, it was that voice! I can hear it now – My voice is the voice of the wind . . . My voice is the voice you have always known . . . the gentle whisper of the trees and the soft roll of the waves on the shores of Kerry . . . My voice will accompany you deep into trance . . . and so on. My father adored it, and from the moment I was born, so did I.

  ‘After the show my father managed to charm his way into her dressing room. He stood a head shorter than her, but she knew the reputation of his act. Within a month they had combined their talents, and for many years to come “Morrow and The Voice of the Win
d” performed to capacity crowds in famous theatres in London and Paris and all over the world. I have a photo of the two of them entertaining wealthy passengers aboard a famous ship called the Queen Mary.

  ‘And that’s how they met. And for their next act they conjured up seven healthy, happy babbies, of which I, Jack Morrow, was the last! As soon as we were old enough to totter, my parents began to teach their children every secret they knew. But it was only the seventh of those seven children who truly had The Gift.

  ‘However, as I grew up, I realized that I did not want to be a performer. I was a bookish lad and, to be honest with you, I suffered from terrible stage fright. Although I never told my parents, I was being bullied at school on account of my eyes and diminutive height, and that didn’t help my confidence. As I got older and found my way in science, I became more self-assured, but the theatre was never for me. After school I got a place at Trinity College to study Psychology and set out on my lifetime’s work of combining scientific study with the mysterious art of hypnosis.

  ‘After university I had my own hypnotherapy practice in a cosy little office in Lower Baggot Street with a magnificent chestnut tree outside the window. As a therapist, I was able to help half the population of Dublin with their eczema, their smoking, their fear of flying or public speaking. You name it, Jack Morrow sorted them out. And I often used the old regression technique, to unravel the source of their suffering.

  ‘But I always felt I was capable of more. And then, one day, I was sitting on the top deck of a bus, browsing through a magazine called Scientific American – which I had sent over each month from New York at great expense – when I came across a great little article about a state-of-the-art Neurology Department they were constructing in a new university down here in the Southern states of America. That very day I sent them a letter, and to my utter joy I was invited for interview and accepted as Head of Department.