“Yesterday was quite a stunner, Bob, for me as well as for you. But I see that sort of thing every now and again in a patient; a deeply-suppressed memory forced to the top by a recent trauma.
I'm not surprised you kept the recollection hidden from yourself all these years. It must have been bad enough for a twenty-two year old to be thrust into something like that, but to find that you had been on the same plane just a few days before.
He shook his head. 'Tell me, were you given any counselling after the experience? Were you even offered any?'
Skinner laughed softly. 'Don't be daft, Kevin. We didn't have things like that back in the seventies.'
`Then God alone knows how many damaged people like you we have wandering around.
You wouldn't care to sue your Force, would you? I'd be happy to give expert evidence on your behalf.' In the corner, Sarah spluttered with suppressed laughter.
The DCC shook his head. 'Times have changed, man. As a Commander there's no one more in favour of stress counselling than I am. If I'm learning anything from this experience, it's that it should be compulsory from now on.' He paused and grinned again.
'But before I can do anything about that, I have to get myself back to work. So let's get on with curing that mental toothache.
O'Malley nodded. 'If you're absolutely sure you're ready. That was quite a session we had yesterday.'
`Kev, after that, I can't wait to bring the rest out. I'm not just ready, I'm impatient.'
Okay, but let's slow down. You're too pumped up just now. I want to start with five minutes of relaxation and meditation. Just sink into those pillows, pick out that spot on the ceiling again, think your happy thought, and concentrate on them both to the exclusion of everything else.'
Skinner was almost asleep before O'Malley counted him into his trance.
`Hello, Bob,' said the psychiatrist gentry, once his patient's eyes were closed. 'I want you to take us into the dream again, at the point at which we left it yesterday. Let me know when we're there.'
He sat upright in his chair and waited. After a few seconds, Skinner spoke, drowsily.
'We're in the big, flat field. Oh Christ, but I wish they'd given me wellies. I'll never get these boots cleaned.'
`We'll worry about that later. Let's go forward now, and as we do, you describe what we're seeing.'
Skinner took a deep sighing breath. For a few seconds silence hung in a pall over his bed.
`Bits of the plane are still smoking,' he said slowly. 'There's wreckage all over the place. It looks like a hurricane I saw on television a while back. Everything's smashed to pieces.
`There are suitcases and rucksacks, all over the place. They're all burst open; the things that were in them are spread around. Look over there, Kevin. It's a big sombrero. And there, a big black fan, like they sell in the markets. There's someone's stuffed donkey. Oh, look at it, the way it's standing up in the mud.' His voice was incredibly young and sad.
'It's looking around like a lost dog.'
His limbs moved slightly on the bed. 'Over there, Kevin; he said suddenly. 'What's that?
It's a hell of a big donkey, surely.
Come on.' His legs twitched, as if in his dream he was trying to run through the mud.
'What the hell is it? Is it someone's dog?' He fell silent again, his legs thrashing now.
` Ahh!' The sudden cry filled the room, making Sarah's blood run cold. Aw no, look at that man. Oh Christ, look! You can see his bones; you can see his guts, lying out there in the mud. And he's burned, poor bastard.
Oh my, look over there. It's another, and another, and another. Jesus, Kevin, can you imagine the last thirty seconds or so, when they all knew they were going to crash! What it must have been like in that plane! And that could have been Myra and me. Just a week ago.'
`Yes, Bob,' said O'Malley, very gently, 'but it wasn't you.
Nothing you can do about it. That's the way the dice rolled. Now let's move on. Keep talking to me, as we go, describe for me what we're seeing and what you're doing.'
Okay,' said the young Skinner. His legs began to labour once more. 'The mud's thicker here. There are more bodies over there, in front of us. They're not burned, or as badly smashed up, but some are sunk right into the muck.
Okay, Bob, now carry on, don't stop. Are we heading for anywhere in particular?'
`For the far end of the field.'
And what's there?'
`The cockpit. I can see it, where it's ploughed right into the ground. There's no one there yet. The firemen and the ambulances are all stuck.'
`Who's with us?'
Inspector McGuinness, from Hawick, and a bloke called Fender, another Constable.'
And we're all going towards the cockpit?'
`That's right.'
Okay, let's just head for it.'
The thrashing of Skinner's legs grew more violent, as if the mud was turning to glue. All at once it stopped. 'Over there, Kevin. That thing — it looks like a doll. I'm going to look at it. That's what it is. It's a doll. See? The arms and legs are all out of their sockets the way dolls go when you twist them. The head's all turned round, too. Wait for me a minute, I'll just put it right'
He paused, as if concentrating on something. To O'Malley and Sarah, watching him, it was as if the air in the small room began to tingle. And then he screamed.
A pitiful heartrending scream.
`What is it, Bob, what is it?' asked O'Malley, his voice shaking in spite of himself.
It's wee June, Kev, it's wee June!'
`Who's wee June?'
He was sobbing in his sleep, uncontrollably. 'My pal Dougie Fiddes, from Motherwell.
He's only a couple of years older than me. He and his wife, Shona, arrived in our hotel a fortnight ago, at the end of our first week; them and their baby, wee June.
Aw, Kev, I was playing with her in the pool last week, on the day we left. She's only two, and now look at her, look at her. Oh man, it's just no' fair!' He paused, his voice catching on his sobs.
And look at me, Kevin. I've pissed myself!'
O'Malley looked down and realised suddenly that Skinner was speaking the truth, past and present.
`Bob, we're going to come up now. That's more than enough for this session. On one: Five. Four. Three. Two. One.'
Skinner's eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling in horror. His hand clutched at his sodden groin.
`God,' he whispered, trembling. 'In my life I've been shot, stabbed and half-strangled, but I've never had an experience as awful or as terrifying as that. I remember it now, as clear as a bell, yet • •
`Yet you've been having the experience, subconsciously, for half your life,' said O'Malley.
'Your way of dealing with something that for most people would be too awful to contemplate has been to shove it right down into the depths of your mind, and as I said yesterday, to build a wall around it. I've had other patients who have done that, but they've all been dysfunctional personalities. For you to have suppressed it all and achieved what you have is remarkable. In fact, it suggests-' He stopped. 'No, I'll keep that thought to myself, until we're all through.'
Sarah was still shaking as she came to stand beside him. 'Do you want to go on, Bob? We know about the doll now, but we still have to confront the man in the cottage. Are you strong enough for that?'
He smiled up at her, weak, white-faced, but determined. 'I have to do the rest of it, love.
But in one more session. Next time, I promise to stay continent. That wasn't just an awful experience. It was very embarrassing… then and now.
`Yet,' he said, 'at the time, neither McGuinness nor Pender mentioned that part of it. I think it was because they'd done the same themselves.'