The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

1

Zoe
jumped off the bus at The Strand and walked towards the luxurious Savoy Hotel.
As she approached the magnificent entrance, the smiling doorman, dressed in a
black, three-piece suit and a gold tie, and wearing a vintage silk top hat,
greeted her. “Good afternoon, madam,” he said, holding the door open. “Thank
you; I love your hat,” she flirted cheekily.

The
Reception area was sumptuously decorated, with beige walls and a rose pink
carpet; the desk was made of the darkest mahogany wood and there were numerous
deep red leather sofas strategically placed around the area. “Good afternoon,
madam,” smiled the Receptionist as Zoe walked up to the desk. “How may I help
you?” the Receptionist was a young lady, smartly dressed in a navy-blue suit,
white shirt and red scarf.

Zoe
checked her watch. It was 1.55 pm. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.

“I
am meeting Barbara Wilson.”

“I’ll
call her room, madam. Please take a seat.”

Zoe
walked across the hall, picked up one of the shiny-covered magazines off the
coffee table, and sat down nervously.

A
few moments later, a slender, silver-haired lady came out of one of the lifts
and walked towards Zoe, smiling. Zoe jumped up and the two ladies hugged.

“Zoe!
It’s so nice to see you again. Shall we go up to my room?”

“Yes.”

2

Barbara
and Zoe walked across to the lift and went up to Barbara’s suite which was
situated on the second floor. As Barbara opened the door, Zoe could not fail to
be impressed with the modern decor. A corridor led into a lounge area, which
had a sofa and two armchairs arranged around an open fireplace. A large
television was to the right of the fireplace, and a long sideboard, with
decanters and crystal wine glasses, was on the left. Fresh flowers seemed to be
everywhere she looked. Cascading sunlight guided her eyes to a bunch of English
roses; she couldn’t help but smell their sweet fragrance.

“Can
I offer you a drink after your journey?” smiled Barbara.

“Some
tea would be great, thanks.”

As
Barbara left to call Room Service, Zoe looked around the room again. There was
one open door, which obviously led to a large bedroom. Zoe could see a
king-sized bed, dressed in cream and red satin, with plump pillows perfectly
arranged.

Barbara
returned, and took out a notebook and clipboard from her briefcase. Just then
the steward arrived with the tea and placed it on the coffee table in front of
Zoe. Barbara sat down in the chair opposite her.

“Now
then, Zoe, how can I help you?”

“Well,”
Zoe began, quietly, “you know we’ve recently moved house?”

“Yes.
Are you settling in OK and enjoying being back with the family?”

“Hm.
That’s not the problem,
actually; I love being back with them – even James! They’re away at the moment,
though. They’ve gone to Florida for a week with Aunt Sally. The thing is, since
we moved in I’ve been having really weird dreams...” Barbara interrupted. “Tell
me about the dreams.” The psychiatrist started to take notes.

“They
feel so real. I’d be doing something normal, like shopping, or running, when I
would hear a voice saying
Little Miss Piggy
.
Always
the same voice.”

Barbara
had a sinking feeling – she knew precisely what Zoe would tell her next. “You
know, Zoe, dreams can feel very real at times... but that’s all they are –
dreams.”

“Yes,
but she scares me.”

“Who
scares you? Have you seen somebody?”

“We
think the house is haunted. We found a man’s journal in the attic, and there’s
a drawing of her in it.” Zoe picked up her cup and drank slowly. She was
starting to relax a little.

“
Who’s
we?
”

“My friend Vana and I.”

“Ah,
yes. I remember Vana. Please, do go on.” Barbara put down her pen and settled
back in the chair. “We think we have cleared the place.” Barbara was confused.
“I’m not sure I understand.
Cleared?
How?”

“Well,
in his journal it said we had to find something and burn it... and everything
would stop.”

“And?
Did it work?”

“Yeah,
so far – I guess.”

Barbara
paused before she spoke. Something about Zoe’s body language gave her cause for
concern. “Zoe, this isn’t the reason why you’ve called me, though, is it?”

“No,” whispered Zoe, looking
downcast.

“Have
you relapsed?”

“Yes,”
she replied, by now close to tears.

“Oh, my dear.
When?”

“Last weekend.
I started making myself sick
again.”

“Do
you know what triggered it off?”

Zoe
began to cry, and hot tears coursed down her white face. Her childhood memories
came flooding back. “Come on, my dear. I’m here for you,” said Barbara, gently,
as she stood up to give Zoe a hug and a tissue she took from a box on the
table. They sat down together on the sofa. Barbara waited. Memories of a 15
year old Zoe came flooding back into her mind.

Over
the years, Barbara had found that some of her clients had relapsed in one way
or another, but it had been four years since Zoe had first walked into her
consulting rooms as a skinny, shy teenager. They had met weekly for the next
three years, with Barbara keeping in constant touch. Zoe had then moved on to
Oxford University, and the contact ended. Barbara had assumed that Zoe’s
problems were firmly behind her. She watched, silently, until Zoe was composed
again.

“Would
you like another drink, dear?” she asked, kindly. “Are you feeling better?” Zoe
gently nodded. “We’ve never tried hypnosis before,” continued Barbara. “What do
you think? Shall we give it a try and see if it helps?”

“I
guess. Do you mind if I freshen up first?”

“Of course, Zoe.”

3

Zoe
walked through the bedroom and into a beautifully decorated en-suite bathroom.
In the corner
was
a sunken bath, and a small tinted window
that offered citywide views. A walk-in shower dominated the opposite wall, and
behind the door was a toilet and next to it a washbasin. She stared in the
mirror and took several deep breaths before using a tissue to dry her eyes.

As
she walked back into the bedroom, she saw that Barbara had removed all the
dressings from the huge bed, apart from one plump, cream pillow.
“Right.
Why don’t you make yourself
comfortable.
Lie back and relax. I’m just going to pop something over you to keep you cosy.”
Zoe took a deep breath and lay down as instructed. Meanwhile, Barbara drew up a
chair and sat down beside the bed. “I want you to take slow, deep breaths.
That’s right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just concentrate on my voice.
I’m going to start counting, and when I reach the number one you will be 15
again.”

4

It
was a warm Monday morning in April and Zoe was in the kitchen finishing off her
breakfast. Mary was working at the sink. “You’re going to be late, Zoe,” chided
Mary. “Just waiting for Vana to call,” replied Zoe, through a mouthful of
crumbs. Mary dried her hands and passed Zoe a lunch box.

“Here,
don’t forget your snacks for break-time.”

“Alright,
mum,” smiled Zoe. She placed the box in her rucksack. Just then the doorbell
rang. “That’ll be her. See you later, mum.”

“Have
a nice day, darling. Love you.”

“My
love rebounds to you,” replied Zoe and walked out of the kitchen towards the
front door where Vana stood waiting.

“Ready?”

“Yes.
Come on or we’ll be late.”

5

Barbara
was taking notes again. “OK, now, breathe a little deeper. Relax your mind and
invite any fears you have into the room.” Zoe started to breathe heavily. “But,
remember you are in a safe environment and nothing can harm you. Now tell me,
where are you?”

“I’m
walking to school with Vana.”

“Carry
on. What do you see and hear?”

Zoe
painted a colourful picture for Barbara as she described the route; past the
local florist where an old lady was busy filling buckets with freshly cut
flowers (she smiled as the girls walked by); carrying on past the small bakery,
with its delicious aroma of freshly-baked bread and cakes, full of workers
ordering bread rolls stuffed with egg and bacon; past the newsagents packed
with children buying sweets. The school bus was discharging its load of noisy,
chattering pupils, whilst frantic parents tried to find somewhere to park to
drop off their children.

As
she reached the school gates, Zoe’s voice started to tremble. “I can see Helen
and her gang. She’s giving us Danny-bad-pikes.”

“What
does that mean?”

“She’s
staring directly at us.”

“Who
is Helen?”

“A girl in my year.
She thinks she’s everyone,
just because she’s a teen model for television and magazines. She’s no big deal
– she only got the gigs because her mum had been a supermodel and she was using
her old contacts. Everyone says so.”

Barbara
was busy making her notes when she became aware of loud tapping on the door.
There it was again. She tried to ignore it. Zoe continued, in a monotone voice.
The noise became louder and more persistent. “Who is that? They must want me
urgently. I won’t be a moment, Zoe; I’ll be right back. Just keep breathing
slowly, in and out,
in
and out.”

Barbara
walked down the corridor towards the door and peeped through the small spy
hole.
No-one.
The tapping started again; this time it
was accompanied by a noise like fingernails being scraped down an old
blackboard. Another look through the spy hole revealed nothing. She shivered.
Her curiosity now getting the better of her, Barbara slowly opened the door and
peered up and down the corridor; not a soul in sight.

“Kids,
I guess,” she muttered. She closed the door and walked back to her chair. “Now,
Zoe, I want you to fast-forward to the trigger point.” No sooner had she spoken
than Barbara felt a heavy poke in her back, which made her jump out of the
chair and look behind. “What the heck? What was that?” Barbara had been having
a few muscle spasms since she had had a car accident the previous year. “I
really do need to go back to my GP,” she muttered as she sat down again.

If
only she had looked closely at the back of the armchair she would have seen the
imprint of a small hand.

1

Zoe
was in the girls’ changing room getting ready for the afternoon’s games session.
She didn’t mind netball; it wasn’t her favourite
sport, that
belonged to tennis,
but, because her reactions were quick, she played as
a goal shooter. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror which was next
to the lockers; she was of average build, nicely rounded – maybe just a slight
pot belly, but nothing to be concerned about. As she turned away, Helen and two
of her cronies walked in and surrounded her. “What?” asked Zoe, “what’s the
matter with you lot?”

Helen
smirked. “Nothing,
Little Miss Piggy,
” she said, sarcastically, as she
poked Zoe’s waistline. The three girls closed in and jostled her, pointing and
laughing, before starting to chant
Little
Miss Piggy, Little Miss Piggy
. Just then Vana came in, saw what was going
on, and roughly pulled the girls away from her friend. “Shouldn’t you girls be
practising your tongue and groove?” she glared at Helen, who pushed her
backwards.

“Screw
you, bitch! We’re not lesbos!” Vana squared up to Helen. “Well, you deffo
modelled like one in that magazine.”

“
Hmph,
just shows what you know,” retorted Helen, “it’s
called
modelling and acting
– not that you’d understand.”

“You’ve
got the rep, not me.”

“Screw
you!”

“And
I bet you’d like that.”

Fortunately,
before things could get really out of hand, Mrs Jones, the games teacher, came
into the room. “Stop that at once. You three – outside,” she said, pointing at
Helen and her little gang of bullies. “You
two,
finish
getting changed and follow me on to the court.” Zoe sat down, and Vana put a
protective arm around her friend.

“You OK, hun?”

“Yeah,
I guess. They’re just being their normal, bitchy selves. I seem to be their
pin-cushion of late.”

“Come
on; don’t worry. I’ll rough them up a bit while we’re playing,” smiled Vana.
Zoe was grateful to her best friend who was a tough cookie and took no shit
from anyone.

2

Barbara
was still taking notes. “OK, now we have established the origin, I want you to
flash forward in time to the point that started your illness.” None of this was
new to Barbara as Zoe had opened up to her when she was being counselled, but
she was hopeful that something new would emerge whilst Zoe was under hypnosis.
Zoe was breathing deeply. To all intents and purposes the girl was asleep, with
just her eyelids and fingers restlessly twitching.

3

The
netball game went as predicted by Vana, who got one of her other friends to
distract Mrs Jones by faking an ankle injury. Once the teacher’s back was
turned, she viciously elbowed Helen in the stomach. “Oh, sorry,” she
half-heartedly apologised, “didn’t see you there.” Helen glared at her. “You’d
better watch your back, Cuban.”

“Why,
do you like the back door as well? Cuba, Havana, I like that – funny.” Mrs
Jones turned to see the girls shouting and pushing.
“You two
again!
Any more of this and you’ll be off to the Headmaster.
Troublemakers are dealt with severely here. Do you want Saturday morning
detentions and lack of privileges? Get on with the game.”

“Sorry,
madam,” replied both girls, as they ran to their respective places on the
court.

4

School
finished for the day, and Vana and Zoe walked down the school’s drive towards
the large ornamental gates. Normally they went back to Zoe’s house after
school, but today was Vana’s grandmother’s birthday so she was getting a lift
home as the family were going out for dinner.

Zoe
walked along the street, stopping off at the newsagents to pick up a copy of
her favourite magazine. The shop was crowded with schoolchildren, all wanting
to spend what they had kept back from their lunch money. “Hey, mister, what can
I get for 20p?” shouted one young boy.

“The
same as I told you the other day when you asked – 20 penny sweets or two
Freddos,” replied the newsagent, as he tried to keep his eyes on the other boys
who were all milling around. Zoe picked up her magazine, stretched over the
heads of the young boys in order to pay the, by now, flustered shopkeeper,
smiled, and left the shop.

5

Zoe
unlocked the front door, and was greeted by the aroma of beef lasagne which
Mary and James had prepared for dinner. “That you, Zoe?” shouted Mary.

“Yes,
mum.”

“Tea
won’t be long. I’ll shout when it’s ready.”

“OK,”
she replied, running up the stairs. Zoe walked up to her bedroom, pushed back
the door, and noticed it had been tidied, polished, and vacuumed. “Thanks mum,”
she said, as she placed her rucksack on the floor. She couldn’t wait to change
out of her school uniform, preferring jeans and her favourite pink hoodie, and
then lay on the bed, reading her magazine. All the usual stuff was there –
plenty of gossip, puzzles,
Your
week ahead
in the Stars,
make-up tips, as well as
Auntie Maggie’s problem page
.

She
continued to turn the pages until an article caught her eye. It was about the
dangers of Anorexia and teenage girls. She read on, intrigued. The article
followed the lives of four girls, and explained what they had been doing in
order to shed the pounds. Zoe rubbed her stomach, thoughtfully. These girls
apparently all ate normally, but then went off to the bathroom to make
themselves
sick. The article was very well written and highlighted
the dangers of eating disorders. Zoe thought...

6

Zoe
was at her desk finishing off her homework. She put down her pen, picked up the
magazine again, and looked at the picture of the girls in the article. The
girls were undeniably skinny, not too thin, but they looked ill. She pondered
for a while, but when she remembered Helen and the other bullies cat-calling
her, and shouting
Little Miss Piggy,
her decision was made.