The Frustrated Man With Two Hobbies

THE PRESENT

At the beginning of lockdown, the job was really enjoyable. The weather made most of the difference of course. That and the suitably surreal peace and quiet. No cars, no people, no hassle. It was amazing! He could sit on his little collapsible chair and play with wires to his heart’s content. No-one would interrupt him asking inane questions, or complain about another problem that hadn’t even been reported to him. He could just get on with it quietly and efficiently. Which is what he did. Life as a BT telephone engineer had its benefits.

After a few weeks of lockdown he began to notice changes. Not massive ones, but to him they represented the subtle alterations of mind-sets that meant the public were no longer so happy with their collective lot. There were more cars on the roads. Pedestrians were everywhere, many of them attempting to talk to him whilst he was working. In fairness, it was from a safe distance, but the principle irked him more than he was prepared to admit.

He partially blamed the continuing good weather for this, although admittedly it remained a big plus for him too. He kept biting his lip though, rather than biting off heads. It was something he was very good at doing. Ask his latest girlfriend. The jobs were still completed, perhaps not so quietly as before, but certainly with the same level of efficiency. Anyway, he was still working and he’d read being outside was the safest place to be in a pandemic.

Now, some three months or so in, his world has almost reverted to pre-coronavirus levels of frustration and annoyance. The weather has turned, so it’s back to waterproofs and feeling cold. At least the pedestrians are suffering as well. They have more pressing things on their minds nowadays than wanting to annoy him, innocently or otherwise. He is grateful for that small mercy at least. Parking the van is becoming a problem again. Honestly, you’d think it was old normal rather than the new version. Jobs are taking longer to complete, but he completes them as quietly and efficiently as he can. It will get worse when lockdown eases.

To understand what makes our hero tick, we need to go back to his childhood, a time when the words frustration, annoyance, efficiency, capability, aptitude and knowledge didn’t have the same relevance they do now. It was a time with limited worries and concerns about work, family, relationships and responsibility. You may notice an absence of reference to ‘love’. It is an area our hero has rarely experienced or indeed appreciated, but it does resonate. A bit anyway – all will eventually be explained.

EARLY YEARS

Let us begin. Lawrence Clarke (the ‘e’ is important – it differentiates him from the common Clarks) has always been good with electrics. It didn’t run in the family though. His dad pushed pens around and found it a challenge changing a light bulb. When he wasn’t administrating, as Mr Clarke senior was proud to call his profession, he spent a lot of time trying to drum into his only child the importance of good qualifications. It hadn’t the effect he hoped for, as evidenced by the relatively poor results the son obtained in all subjects other than physics. At least the results were passes, but that’s all you could say in their favour.

As a child, young Lawrence Clarke had two hobbies. One was playing with circuit boards in his bedroom, which had inevitably led to computers, a growth industry if ever there was one. Lawrence, who by now was toying with the idea of shortening his name to Lawrie because it seemed ‘cooler’, had built several at home. Each was better than the last, and they all worked spectacularly well. It was clear he had a talent for it. The word ‘nerd’ hadn’t yet been applied to him by his school-mates, but it was only a matter of time.

The other hobby was something that had fascinated him since he’d seen a programme about it on TV several years earlier. None of his friends knew about it. He had no siblings to confide in and his parents weren’t to be trusted, because they were his parents. He was approaching ‘that difficult age’ as his mother referred to it when speaking to her friends. One day, he thought, one day I will amaze and astound you all. He was fourteen at the time.

If it wasn’t computer parts all over all the window-ledges in his bedroom, it was computer magazines identifying the next big thing and how to keep ahead of the game. In some ways, his mother would have preferred them to be girlie ones (she still cleaned his room), but Lawrence wasn’t showing any interest in that area yet. Still, there was plenty of time.

As for his other hobby, well, Mrs Clarke (who frankly didn’t care how her surname was spelled as long as the person spelling it was referring to her) was amazed there was so much literature available. Judging by the number of books on the subject in Lawrence’s bookcase, he would still be reading them when he reached twenty-one. She considered it to be a complete waste of time, although she never ever said as much to her son. Adult life was going to prove a big disappointment to him, as it had to her, and she didn’t want to burden him with too much angst at such a young age. Let the boy live a little first.

EMPLOYMENT

Going into the jobs market at the beginning of the new millennium, aged sixteen, was not as traumatic as it is today. There were plenty of opportunities for Lawrence out there. Quite why he decided on a career with British Telecom still puzzled him a little. If pushed, he’d point to his love of all things electrical as the prime influence, but the difference between working as a trainee with BT and fiddling with motherboards and tiny contacts on his own in his bedroom was vast. Nevertheless, the money was good and the potential to learn a skill and develop a career substantial. He already knew the basics anyway! The downside was his other hobby had to take a back-seat whilst he acclimatised to his new working life.

As with school, however, Lawrie’s (decision on name reached - the game changer was leaving school and going into the real world) dedication to obtaining qualifications was questionable at best. He went to college one day each week to learn how to do the job he was already doing properly, rather than in the hands-on way he was being shown by mentors, and discovered the alternative methods were radically different. He saw it as the perfect world approach versus the real world application that life forced trainee telephone engineers like him to embrace to keep both customers and managers happy.

As a consequence, he didn’t put too much effort into what he believed to be a flawed concept. He did enough though, without setting the world on fire, and was able to continue a moderately upwards career trajectory, in part through passing his examinations by the tightest of margins and also by understanding what needed to be done and then doing it, quietly and efficiently. He kept his nose clean and slowly gained the respect of the older engineers, who saw an opportunity to let the young ‘un under their tutelage deal with the problems reported whilst they went to the pub. They had trust in his capabilities. He knew this too, and his confidence rose accordingly. His senior managers were happy because he caused them no problems and the team got the jobs completed on time.

GETTING ON WITH LIFE

After starting with BT, Lawrie progressed both jobwise and personally. Aged seventeen, he became one of the first of his contemporaries to pass the driving test. The relatively good money he was earning allowed him to purchase an old banger that was his pride and joy, even though at first it regularly let him down. He spent nearly as much time under the bonnet as he spent in his bedroom playing with computers or reading. He won in the end though, by instilling the vehicle with the magical ingredient called reliability. 

By this time he’d also discovered computer games and pornography, so perhaps Lawrie wasn’t so keen now to build them. His bedroom remained a private world though, much to his mother’s annoyance. She hardly ever saw him, and was only allowed access with his permission. He insisted on keeping it clean himself, which irritated his mother considerably.

Now things had begun to settle down a bit at work, he was able to devote a bit more time to his other hobby. He’d read enough books on the subject, but getting to the next level was proving difficult. Transferring from theory to practice in anything is never easy, but at least in a work context there are other people to hold your hand when you remove the stabilisers for the first time. Lawrie’s hobby was a totally private activity, absolutely legal, but lacking a support group of any kind due to its unusual nature and shortage of like-minded individuals. He was becoming a bit frustrated.

Then, at eighteen, Lawrie discovered alcohol and the opposite sex. To be absolutely accurate, he’d discovered alcohol shortly before he was legally allowed to drink. The older engineers began to include him on their daily jollies after they realised how good he was at clearing the list of jobs given to them each day, which he still tried to do quietly and efficiently. It was a kind of reward for services undertaken.

There was method in their madness. If they had frozen him out he could have got upset and alerted their Manager. Then their relaxing afternoons would have been numbered. Anyway, Lawrie was proving to be good company, and he was worth their investment in him. The price of a couple of pints every now and again was absolutely justified. As far as Lawrie was concerned, it was further evidence of his understanding of how the world really worked. One day he’d need a favour from one of his workmates, but until then there was no need to rock the boat. Anyway, he worked better by himself. It was quieter. He was more efficient.

As for the opposite sex, Lawrie met Rosie at college. It was a slow-burn thing. Both were on their one day each week day-release courses. Both were creatures of habit and sat at the same table in the refectory at lunchtime. It hadn’t initially been the intention of either of them to sit together but at the time it was the only table available and, after the first week, they both realised they liked the security repetition provides.

At first they didn’t acknowledge each other’s existence, but after a few months they were on nodding and then talking terms. This didn’t mean they had managed to ignore each other for ages before the ice had been broken. One day per week, excluding when the college wasn’t open because of holidays, meant a few months totalled perhaps ten times they’d sat at the same table. 

They were both quite shy, but Lawrie was marginally the less introverted of the two. It was a close run thing though. He was minding his own business over lunch one day at college, slightly depressed because he couldn’t see a way to ever prove mastery of his other hobby, when he noticed Rosie’s purse had fallen out of the big bag she always carried with her. It was obvious she was unaware of this so, being a gentleman, Lawrie pointed the fact out to her.

It didn’t start a conversation, but they became less stand-offish with each other to the point where, independently, they both found themselves looking forward to sharing the table once a week at lunchtime. Nods of acknowledgement gave way to comments about the weather, their respective courses, some of the lecturers, what they were planning to do at the weekend. Eventually, they exchanged names and, finally, Lawrie plucked up the courage to ask Rosie out for a drink. She accepted.

They met in town on the next Saturday evening. Neither was late and both seemed pleased to see the other. In the course of the next three hours they visited two pubs and three bars, drinking far too much and enjoying themselves greatly. None of the hostelries asked for proof of age, which in itself pleased them both enormously. Lawrie discovered that Rosie didn’t live too far away from him, so they shared a taxi home and a first kiss round the corner from where she lived. It led to a second date and, after that, the start of Lawrie’s first proper relationship with a girl. With a girl called Rosie – just in case you were worried.

His mother was delighted when she found out, but his father less so. He thought Lawrence (he refused to shorten the name despite being asked to) was too young to be going out with girls. At the same time though, Mr Clarke senior was happy Lawrence seemed to be coming out of his shell at last. All that time alone in the bedroom was bound to be bad for anyone. Buying that clapped out old banger and doing it up was a step in the right direction, but girlfriends? Oh dear no. That’s for when you want to settle down. It was a mistake he felt he’d made at that age and it was something he didn’t want his son to repeat. Not that he said anything to his son about it of course. It wasn’t that kind of relationship.

He’d been disappointed Lawrence had shown no enthusiasm for sports of any kind as a child, and was suspicious of the computers his son obviously loved. He used one under sufferance at work, much preferring a more manual approach to numbers and reports, and was worried about the future. To him, it was only a matter of time before a computer would replace all administrators.

The failure of the Millennium Bug to appear some three years earlier, despite high media expectation, was a major blow. Until then, he hadn’t really appreciated the depth of his dislike for them. Now he considered himself a dead man walking, career-wise. Time would prove his belief to be astute, but that’s another story. For now he kept his head down, hoping against hope a terminal fault in the bloody machines would be discovered to delay them from taking over the world.

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

Lawrie and Rosie saw each other twice a week on average. It suited both of them as their work, family and day-release commitments were considerable. Rosie was learning to drive too, so it was Lawrie who inevitably picked her up and drove her out into the countryside for a drink, kiss and a cuddle. They were both happy in the relationship, which was beginning to become more serious as time passed. At the time though, neither would admit to ‘loving’ the other, especially to their face. Bridges needed to be crossed first, but their location and importance were not yet fully established.

They were sat in the Fox and Hounds one Saturday evening. It was an old-fashioned pub in the Yorkshire Dales. Lawrie remembered it from a visit he’d made there with his parents a few years ago, and had suggested it as somewhere to go after a walk nearby earlier that day.

He was drinking something soft, because he was driving. Rosie considered herself to be free-thinking and trendy, so was experimenting with wine. She hadn’t yet made her mind up about the colour she preferred yet, let alone anything else. Tonight it was dry white, but tomorrow it could be something completely different. It all depended, but on what she never said. She thought being unpredictable made her mysterious. The trouble was she simply followed trends. The taste wasn’t important. It was all about the kudos.

Unfortunately for her, Lawrie was beginning to see through this charade and was starting to form a slightly unflattering impression of this part of her in his mind. It was a trait that would follow him throughout his life with sometimes mild and sometimes unpleasant consequences. Naturally, he didn’t discuss this with her. As ever, he just let it stew. Quietly and subconsciously.

It was the end of a remarkably pleasant October, weather-wise. The couple had been seeing each other for just over three months. Lawrie’s car was by now absolutely reliable, having been beaten into submission by its new owner, so they had travelled fairly extensively in it throughout the north of the country, hence being in the Fox and Hounds this evening. Rosie was happy, but there was something on her mind.

“Lawrie, what are your plans for Christmas?”

“How do you mean?” enquired Lawrie.

“Well,” explained Rosie, “do you stay at home on the big day or visit relatives? Do BT hold a party to which you plus one are invited? Is it your intention to volunteer with a local charity and deliver meals to the poor, infirm, sick and needy on Christmas Day? When do you buy presents? How do you decide who gets what? Do you and your mates go out together and get completely off your faces? Will you be wanting to see your girlfriend at all over the festive period? Is that comprehensive enough for you?” She smiled.

The penny dropped. In Lawrie’s world, Christmas wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed. He’d lost interest in it as he grew up. It was a view he shared with his father, but they both kept their feelings on the subject to themselves.

Now he was working, there was the break between Christmas and New Year, which was nice, but he’d be fully qualified within the next few months and be expected to ‘volunteer’ to work over the period as a gesture to his managers, to show he was a company person. It was no big deal, and the overtime rate applicable would make the whole thing much easier to bear. Until then, he’d assumed it would be more time devoted to hobbies in his bedroom and massive family meals. Clearly, the Rosie factor was going to have an impact he hadn’t until now considered. Lawrie played a relatively straight bat. He had little to hide.

“Ah! Now I understand. As it stands I have no plans. To answer your questions in order, the Clarke family is small. There are no grandparents. Any relatives live a long way from us and we don’t tend to fraternise if it can be avoided. A Christmas card and short telephone conversation usually suffice. It’s just me, Mum and Dad at home on Christmas Day.”

“Following the ruckus at the departmental Christmas party last year, which I didn’t attend, the one provisionally planned for this year has been cancelled. I believe some of the other engineers intend to have a few drinks on the afternoon of the last working day before shutdown, but that’s all I know at present. Charity work is not something I’ve considered, so the answer is ‘no’. We’re a boring family with a limited collective imagination. Other than cards, which I buy from a gift shop near where I’m based, we just exchange vouchers.”

“There’s no celebration particularly, although Christmas morning is a traditional table breakfast enlivened for two minutes by the exchange of cards containing vouchers. After that, it’s back to my room until Christmas lunch is ready. Then it’s the Queen’s Speech, boxes of chocolates and, invariably, too much to drink. Maybe we’ll watch a film or something, but I tend to disappear back to my room after a couple of hours. Boxing Day sees a return to normality. Given the choice, I’d probably go back to work if I could.”

“I usually see my mates before Christmas, and again on New Years’ Eve, but there’s no set plan. We do drink slightly too much, but it’s only to be expected I suppose.” Lawrie now took a deep breath. “I will definitely want to see my girlfriend over the festive period unless, of course, she has other plans. How does that sound?” Lawrie smiled back at Rosie.

It sounded great to Rosie, who had a plan involving Lawrie staying overnight with her between Christmas and New Year. She elaborated carefully.

“Like you, I spend Christmas Day with the family. Relatives arrive and depart during the day, and there’s always something going on. It sounds like you would hate it. The family tradition, as it were, is something that always takes place a couple of days after Christmas Day. Mum and Dad like winter sun, so fly off to Tenerife for a week and spend the New Year with their friends over there, before coming back to face the British winter with recharged batteries. I’m quoting from the explanation Dad always gives to anyone who asks about it.”

“I used to go with them, but as an only child it was becoming a bit boring for me, so I refused to go one year. It was a teenage tantrum. They reluctantly allowed me to stay at home by myself subject to certain conditions, which were easy to accept. It was that, or they were not going to Tenerife. These conditions, which involved visiting relatives or phoning at certain times, have disappeared as I’ve got older, probably because I’ve always done as I was asked. Once again, I will have the house to myself for a week from just after Christmas. It can get a bit lonely, so I wonder if you would like to visit occasionally to cheer me up. Perhaps you would also like to stay over.”

Lawrie needed no second invitation. The pair of them spent the next few weeks making and actioning plans for Christmas, and especially the bit just after Christmas Day. Any thoughts in Lawrie’s mind about Rosie’s apparent inability to make a decision by herself, rather than by following trends, were forgotten. After all, she’d made the decision to ask him to stay over at hers and that hadn’t involved a public vote or a recommendation in a magazine.

There was a lot of groundwork to do to ensure neither set of parents became suspicious in advance. They deliberately kept comments about their relationship low-key when talking to them. Lawrie fabricated a story about being asked to work for a couple of days over the holiday period as work experience and cover for another engineer whose wife was due to give birth imminently. It was a different area to his, so BT was proposing to put him into a Premier Inn. Gilding the lily, he suggested it was a reward for good work. His heart was in his mouth as he told his parents, but they swallowed the story hook, line and sinker as they say.

Overall, the approach to Christmas proved exciting for Lawrie and Rosie. It was certainly different to previous years for both of them, and there was the promise of more to follow once Rosie’s parents went away. The unexpected and mercenary concern they felt when Rosie’s father complained of a bad throat on the 22^nd December was replaced by joyous elation when he pronounced himself fit and able to travel on Christmas Eve.

CHRISTMAS WITH THE CLARKES

Both spent Christmas Day with their respective parents, in keeping with the low-key approach they had adopted. In the Clarke establishment, things went very much according to familiar routine until after the Queen’s Speech. There was nothing on TV any of the family wanted to watch so, very much out of character and as a consequence of the two additional sherries she’d drunk secretly in the kitchen, whilst cursing the lack of assistance she’d received pre- and post-Christmas lunch from her husband and son, Mrs Clarke suggested playing a game of cards.

Lawrie’s father nearly spilt the beer he’d been drinking. His first thought was she doesn’t know how to play cards. His second was we should play for money. Lawrie himself was surprised, but he was also relaxed because the alcohol he’d drunk during the day so far was hitting the spot. He wished he knew precisely where this spot was, and how to reach it quickly, because he felt completely at ease and wanted to stay like this forever. It was a strange feeling for someone described by work colleagues as a ‘serious but capable bloke who never lets his hair down.’

“Great idea Mum,” he said. “What do you want to play?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You choose.” Mrs Clarke was beginning to have second thoughts about the wisdom of secret drinking, given her unguarded suggestion. She did know how to play, but she wasn’t very good. “What about Rummy?” It was one of only three card games she felt relatively confident about. Snap was one of the others.

“Good for me,” said Lawrie. “What about you Dad?”

“OK here. Are we playing for money?”

The other two looked at him. “It’s Christmas,” said his wife sternly. “Let’s try to enjoy one of the few times we get together as a family without it being spoiled by greed and argument. We are not playing for money. Can you get the cards please?”

Mrs Clarke had made a decision. Mr Clarke knew his place, and jumped up to find the cards, which were where they had been left from the last time they were used some eighteen months ago.  Lawrie watched his parents dance the steps of the terminally married, and mentally decided he was never going to behave that way when he settled down. Not that he was likely to be settling down any time soon of course.

Lawrie offered to shuffle the cards and deal seven of them to each player. His offer was accepted with alacrity by his mother, who was beginning to worry she may have forgotten how to play. He could see she was concerned about something, so intuitively he made a point of reminding all players of the rules - Kings high, aces high or low; that kind of thing. He received a look of grateful thanks from his Mother and one of vague annoyance from his Father.

They started to play. In their own way, each had drunk more than they would normally, but it didn’t seem to be affecting their abilities to play the game or, indeed, talk. Mrs Clarke actually won the first hand, much to the agitation of her husband. Her excitement at winning was enhanced by the petulance displayed by her husband, the quintessential bad loser. He threw his cards down, only to be reminded that it was his turn to deal next. Sulkily, he retrieved them and after shuffling took out his anger by almost throwing the next seven cards to each player.

The second hand was, in the end, won convincingly by Mr Clarke. He was ecstatic. For devilment, Lawrie suggested this had only happened because his father had dealt the cards, but he did it in such a way that it was impossible for his father to take offence. It was a skill young Lawrie had developed at work as a way of dealing with argumentative, know-it-all engineers who believed Lawrie knew nothing and depended on them entirely for his livelihood. The words he used with them absolutely indicated this was not the case, and also suggested they were imbeciles for even thinking that way, but they were wrapped up in such a way the person Lawrie aimed them at didn’t fully appreciate they were being made to look an idiot.

The next three hands were won by the dealer, so once again Mrs Clarke experienced an unexpected, if enjoyable, frisson in getting one over on her husband. If Mr Clarke wasn’t enjoying the game, he was certainly developing the ability to hide his feelings much better than at any time formerly. Gone was the arrogant petulance from the start of the game, to be replaced by a keen interest in winning. Lawrie was actually enjoying being in the company of both parents together for the first time in ages, probably since summer holidays in Cornwall as a child.

Patently, the alcohol was helping. Despite there being no slurring of words so far by any family member, they had all continued to drink at roughly the same pace as the afternoon continued. Mrs Clarke had transferred from sherry to gin and tonic. It was a deliberate move as she believed she could handle the effects of gin better. Lawrie and his father stayed on beer, although supplies were beginning to run low.

A DAY OF SURPRISES

“Would you like to try one of my special malt whiskies?” Mr Clarke had evidently acknowledged the impending beer shortage, but offering such an alternative was unheard of in the Clarke household. It was the turn of Mrs Clarke to almost spill a drink.

“Good grief! Go for it, Lawrie. It may be the only chance you ever get!” she told him, only semi-seriously.

“Now now,” responded her husband, smiling disarmingly. “It was you who didn’t want the mood to be spoiled today. I’m enjoying myself and in a spirit of generosity wish to share something I consider almost sacred with both of you.”

Mrs Clarke declined, becoming mildly suspicious her husband was showing the first signs of being tipsy, but Lawrie accepted. He’d drunk whisky on a couple of previous occasions, but it was just the normal stuff. He was curious to see if he would be able to tell the difference. When his father went to fetch the bottle from its prized storage location, Lawrie’s mother turned to him.

“Thanks for before. You know, reminding everyone of the rules. I’m very grateful. I can’t believe I’ve won a couple of games. Your Dad is really enjoying himself. I think he’s had too much to drink. But anyway, it’s Christmas after all, so why not?”

Lawrie smiled at her. “Thanks for lunch. It was lovely. I’ve really enjoyed the day so far.”

He would have said more, but his father returned with a 15-year old malt whisky in a bottle that was three-quarters full, plus two glasses Lawrie had never seen before. He poured a generous measure into each glass, giving one to Lawrie.

“Please don’t ask for ice or water. This stuff needs to be tasted undiluted and at room temperature for best effect. Its smoky taste will linger long on the palate, and will provide warmth in your throat as it slides down from your mouth to your stomach. I really hope you like it. Cheers!”

Lawrie wasn’t sure of the etiquette involved, but correctly decided to sip rather than devour in one go. His father did likewise, before asking Lawrie his opinion on the drink. It was, as his father had predicted, both smoky and fiery. He absolutely loved it, and said so. His father, not the most emotionally demonstrative of men, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him forwards to hug him. It was turning into a day of surprises. Would there be more?

“My boy,” said his father. “I’m so pleased you like it. We will continue to drink this nectar until the bottle is finished!”

Lawrie wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this, but he’d give it a go in his quiet and efficient manner. His mother caught his eye, and rolled her own eyes to suggest her husband was beginning to feel the effects of all the alcohol he’d consumed so far. He was certainly behaving in an odd manner, but it was as pleasant as it was unexpected.

All three of them forgot about the game of cards after the arrival of the malt whisky. They sat in the front room of their semi-detached house in a quiet neighbourhood and talked to each other. Memories of previous Christmas Days, holidays and even long-departed pets were dredged up from the recesses of their minds, ably moved from thought to conversation by the lubricating effects of alcohol.

The malt whisky continued to flow. Lawrie learned how to make his mother the perfect gin and tonic. His father allowed him to refill the whisky glasses from the sacred bottle. No-one missed the TV. Eventually, his mother asked Lawrie a question she’d been wanting to ask for a while now, but had never seemed to be able to find the right opportunity to do so.

“You know those books in your bookcase? Have you read them?”

It must have been the combined effects of the nice lunch, too much beer and malt whisky, and feeling pleasantly relaxed that conspired to frame his reply.

“Yes,” he said. “Shall I demonstrate?”

His father looked at him in that slightly exaggerated way all people who have drunk too much do when something interesting is being discussed in their presence. He knew about the books, even if the subject was never discussed.

“You can use me as your volunteer if you want,” he said.

THE BIG REVEAL

The subject of the books in Lawrie’s bookcase was hypnosis. Lawrie wanted to be able to hypnotise people in the same way he’d seen Andrew Newton and Paul McKenna do it on TV as a kid. He was almost word-perfect on much of the theory, but getting to the next level had so far proved impossible. Here was his big chance. Trust him to have had too much to drink when the perfect opportunity arose!

Nevertheless, credit the alcohol at least for one thing. It removed the fear factor from his mind. Thinking he had nothing to lose, Lawrie decided he would try to hypnotise his father. If he managed to achieve this, he had no idea what to do next, but he’d deal with that problem when it arose. For now, it was just a question of remembering the procedures he’d painstakingly rehearsed mentally for many years now.

Lawrie dimmed the lights in the front room. He asked his mother to change places with his father so he was sat in the armchair rather than on the settee. Lawrie then started to speak to his father, slowly but clearly.

Contrary to much of what you see or read, hypnotism is not something that can only be achieved by waving items from side to side in front of the eyes of the volunteer. From his research, Lawrie knew it was all about making sure the volunteer was relaxed, comfortable, aware of what was happening and, most of all, receptive to the idea of being hypnotised. He could see his father ticked all these boxes, possibly as a consequence of over-indulgence of alcohol during the afternoon.

“I want you to relax,” Lawrie began. He felt good, but whether or not it was confidence or recklessness responsible for this was difficult to judge. “Imagine it’s a sunny day. You’re at the beach and you feel tired, so you decide to have a nap. You close your eyes and go to sleep. It’s warm and quiet. Just relax and let yourself drift off. Clear your mind of problems. You’re not at work, you’re on holiday….”

And so it went on. Lawrie was fully focused on keeping his voice steady and not repeating himself. He found it quite difficult, given the amount of whisky he’d drunk, but he managed. After a few minutes, he realised his father was asleep. Lawrie wasn’t sure if he had caused this or not. Of slightly more concern was the fact his mother, who had been listening and watching Lawrie intently throughout, was also asleep on the settee. You wait ages to try to hypnotise one person, he thought, and then two come along at the same time.

What to do next? Lawrie considered his options. Patently, he wanted to make sure his parents were both under his control as it were. This was like taking a boat to uncharted territory, then discovering something there no-one had ever seen before and deciding to investigate. He was winging it and there was no safety net. If he’d messed up anywhere, who knew what should be done to rectify the situation and, indeed, how it should be done? He went for broke.

“When I count to three,” Lawrie said confidently, “you will open your eyes. As far as you are concerned, everything is exactly as it was. It’s Christmas Day and you have enjoyed a lovely meal with your family, before playing cards with them. However, if I click my fingers like this (he made the appropriate sound) you will immediately fall back to sleep.”

The moment of truth was upon Lawrie. He counted from one to three. As he finished, both his parents immediately woke up and carried on as if nothing had happened. They picked up their drinks and engaged each other in conversation. Lawrie let this continue for a couple of minutes before clicking his fingers. At this sound, they both fell asleep again. At least he’d waited until they’d put their drinks down.

Lawrie was amazed, surprised and immensely excited by this. He knew all that time reading the books in his bedroom at night hadn’t been wasted. He had mastered a new skill. Now how was he going to use it? He was suddenly consumed by a new fear. What happens if they wake up now or begin to remember later? He was in too deep to worry about that now and, anyway, it wasn’t as if he was doing anything wrong. His father had volunteered to be hypnotised and his mother gate-crashed the event. He carried on.

Over the next hour or so, he made his parents do some of the silly things he’d seen the hypnotists on TV make members of the audience do when they were dragged on to the stage. His problem was that he’d put two people under hypnosis at the same time, so whatever one did, the other did too. Lawrie made a mental note not to let this happen again, assuming there would be another opportunity. He also made in-depth notes to record what he was doing, just in case he needed to explain anything subsequently to the authorities. His efficiency knew no boundaries.

His parents proved to be good subjects for a willing, if inexperienced, hypnotist. They laughed when he said certain serious words; they fell asleep when he clicked his fingers. At his command, they sang and danced to the Abba song ‘Dancing Queen’, even though it wasn’t playing anywhere but in their heads. Mischievously, he planted a couple of words into their minds that, if he said them, would make them bark like dogs. When he said them, randomly in the middle of another conversation, they howled at the moon. There was no embarrassment.

Eventually he began to get tired, so he started the process of bringing them out of their trances. “When I count to three,” Lawrie said, “you will wake up. You will not remember anything that happened. Life will continue as normal.” He counted again and his parents woke up.

“Are you going to do it then?” asked his father.

Lawrie looked at him. “Do what?” he asked.

“Hypnotise me. I’m ready.”

“Dad, you are sat in a different chair. I asked you to swap places with Mum so I could do it. Do you remember?”

His father remembered changing his seat. “What happened then?”

So Lawrie explained everything to his parents in purely general terms, including the accidental hypnotising of his mother. He left out the stuff that they might have found embarrassing. Both refused to believe anything had happened and said so.

“Look what time it is. You were both hypnotised for about an hour.”

It proved difficult for Lawrie to convince his parents that what he told them was the truth, despite an acknowledgement from his father that there was an hour in his life he couldn’t properly account for. He blamed the effects of excessive malt whisky intake for the time loss.

“I don’t think you managed to put me under,” said his father. “I just fell asleep because of all the booze. I bet your mother did the same.”

Lawrie gave up. He knew what had happened, so he was very happy. As for his parents, well one day he would hypnotise one when the other was around and prove his capability. It just wasn’t important right now.

An early night followed for all occupants of the house. The Boxing Day bank holiday was imminent, and Lawrie had some packing to do.

STAYING OVER

In the end, Lawrie and Rosie were continuously together for two nights and three days. It would be frankly sensationalist if details of much of what they got up to during this period were reported here. Let us simply say they managed to cross that mystical bridge, and came out on the other side two completely different people. Older, more mature, knowledgeable, tired and hungry, but definitely different.

They didn’t spend all of their time together indulging in the delights or otherwise of each other. There were periods when they talked. Rosie was a great talker, and Lawrie a better than average listener. He didn’t contribute much, but Rosie had a lot to say and was quite happy to say it. Much of it was tosh, in Lawrie’s opinion, but the occasional nugget was thrown in just to keep him on his toes.

“Tell me about Christmas Day with your parents,” Rosie said as they cuddled in bed. “I hope it was better than mine.”

It was dark, but neither of them had a clue what time it was. In fairness, they’d been in bed for quite a long time now. The thoughtful preparations leading up to Lawrie’s arrival had included the provision of a kettle and biscuits in Rosie’s bedroom. It was the only food and drink they’d had so far as other matters had proved more pressing. Neither had got out of Rosie’s thankfully large bed for reasons other than visiting the bathroom. Lawrie was grateful there was no en-suite arrangement as one of these visits involved something he was glad no-one else could hear. He blamed the bourbons.

“OK,” Lawrie replied, “but it might take a while. You’ll have to be the judge about whether or not it was better than yours.”

He proceeded to tell her about what turned out to be an unusual day for many reasons. On his way over to Rosie’s, Lawrie had been debating whether or not to tell her about the hypnosis stuff. In the end, he reasoned if he didn’t tell her it was likely she’d find out from his mother at a later date. They were quite friendly on the few occasions they had met so far. Not telling Rosie about it would most likely result in a scene of some description that he wanted to avoid. It certainly wouldn’t be quiet.

He left out the bits where he had made his parents do stupid things, as he thought it would seem to trivialise his ability. When he had finished, Rosie looked at Lawrie with a strange glint in her eye. He’d seen several new facial expressions since arriving at her place, all of them different and some expressing a kind of happiness he couldn’t fail to understand, given the circumstances, but this one was unique in his experience.

“Go on,” Lawrie said. “Don’t hold back. There’s something you want to say. I can tell.”

“It certainly was a better Christmas Day than mine. Do you think you could hypnotise me?” Rosie asked. “I’ve always wanted to be hypnotised.”

“You’ve got to be receptive and trusting. I’m not sure that you are at the moment.”

“Lawrie, we’ve been in bed together for more than 24 hours now. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve made love, but I’m guessing the figure is quite high. If I hadn’t been receptive and trusting, you wouldn’t be here. However, there comes a point where enough is enough. That’s what my body is saying to me at the moment. It’s therefore the perfect opportunity for you to do this. I want you to do this. Please!”

Her equally tired partner was grateful for the confirmation sex was off the agenda for the time being. His body was also beginning to complain. Rosie’s admission avoided the need for what Lawrie was beginning to think would be a difficult conversation. “OK, let’s give it a go.”

He got out of bed and prepared himself. The last time he’d done this, he’d definitely had too much to drink. This time, he was naked in his girlfriend’s bedroom at who knew what time, physically wrecked but, somehow, emotionally energised all of a sudden. He remembered all the right things to say. Any frustrations he had at not having expected to be doing this were swept away by the fact there was an opportunity to confirm what he achieved with his parents on Christmas Day was no fluke.

THE SECOND TIME

“First things first.” Lawrie wanted to make sure everything was properly prepared before he started. “I promise that if I manage to hypnotise you I will not make you do anything stupid, rude or in any way embarrassing. I will not take advantage of you. Whatever happens must remain between us. You do not under any circumstances tell anyone else about it without my express permission.”

“The last thing I want is for anyone I know at college or work to tap me on the shoulder and ask me to hypnotise them,” he continued. “It’s a hobby, and it’s personal. I’m not even sure I’m any good at it. Do you understand?”

Rosie nodded her head. She was only half-listening though, because she was thinking. Lawrie had proved to be a reasonable lover (in her limited experience) after a slow start, and more intense than she expected. This intensity came out mostly in his voice, which lowered in tone as he became more involved with the mechanics of the subject.

Whilst it didn’t put her off (she tended to try to focus more on enjoying what she was feeling anyway), she nevertheless got the impression he was in some way holding back at times. He never fully committed, as if he was scared of expressing his true emotions. Lawrie’s voice got deeper, but never became passionate. Yet now there was a passion in his deep voice that had been lacking earlier.

Rosie filed her mental concerns in the drawer marked ‘to be reviewed later’ and tried to concentrate on the job in hand. Although she wasn’t prepared to admit it to Lawrie, the prospect of relaxing into a deep sleep was something she was looking forward to after so long awake, particularly given what she’d been doing.

“OK, Lawrie, I’m comfortable, I’m receptive and I trust you,” she said. She produced an alarm clock from her side cupboard and placed it by the bed. It read 03.25. “This will confirm how long you hypnotise me for. I’m all yours.”

In the next few minutes, Lawrie proved his initial success with his parents had not been a one-off experience. He went about it in exactly the same way as before. He was initially worried Rosie wouldn’t prove to be as receptive, particularly after producing the alarm clock, but when she fell asleep he counted to three and she woke up. When he clicked his fingers, she fell asleep again immediately.

He asked a couple of questions whilst she was in the trance, so he could use the answers provided should Rosie not believe she’d been hypnotised. Finally, he told her she wouldn’t remember anything about what had happened and counted to three. Rosie woke up.

At first, she thought she’d just been asleep. Then, she looked at the alarm clock. It was now showing 03.55. I could have dozed off, she thought, surreptitiously checking around for evidence to prove this was the case. She wasn’t really sure what she expected to find. Lawrie could see there was doubt in her mind.

“Rosie, how long have I been going out with you?”

“Just over five months now. Why do you ask?”

“During this five months, have you ever told me about any of your pets from your childhood?”

“Not that I can recall. Why do you ask?”

Lawrie then reeled off the types and names of the first four pets she’d ever had. He explained how he got the information and Rosie was convinced. They celebrated by falling asleep in each other’s arms.

A NEW YEAR AND A NEW DISCOVERY

Normal life resumed after the festivities came to an end. It was a new year. 2004 was politically very much the same as 2003 with that nice Mr Blair in charge. Strange versions of great songs were at the top of the charts (look it up), but at least the groups weren’t manufactured or had won a glorified talent contest in advance to get the chance to poison the airwaves.

British Telecom continued to show great faith in Lawrie, who repaid it by passing exams and becoming qualified. Lawrie continued to work effectively, quietly and efficiently at the jobs he was given by his managers. He graduated from being part of a repair team to a Telephone Engineer, giving him independence and a yellow van. His erstwhile colleagues charged with mentoring him were gutted at the prospect of once again having to do some work, rather than leave it to Lawrie.

Mr and Mrs Clarke carried on with their lives. From time to time, mainly when Lawrie was either at work (he was now working rotas so the straightforward 8 – 5 was consigned to history) or out with Rosie or his mates, they would talk about what happened on Christmas Day. Whilst overall they remained convinced Lawrie hadn’t managed to hypnotise them, Mrs Clarke in particular was beginning to have doubts about this view. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly it was that made her believe Lawrie, but he was a generally serious and thoughtful boy who wasn’t disposed to lying to his parents. If only they knew the truth about his justification for going away between Christmas and New Year!

Rosie and Lawrie continued where they left off before the end of 2003, but finding places to go to be alone together was difficult for people of their age. The minor rows they had in the early part of the relationship occasionally developed into much bigger arguments, and they split up on several occasions. As the song went, however, the best part of breaking up is when you’re making up, so the relationship continued. The ground was getting shaky though.

After a particularly bitter exchange on the subject of going on holiday later in the year, they didn’t speak for almost a fortnight. It didn’t bother Lawrie too much, and he never even mentioned it to his parents. When, out of the blue, Rosie phoned him to apologise and tell him her parents were off to Scotland for a long weekend, Lawrie was uncharacteristically in two minds about staying over at hers, as she suggested. In the end, he selfishly accepted the invitation as the alternative offers available were not as good. In fact, they were non-existent.

Rosie had offered to cook for him. It was the first time she’d done this and it turned out to be a great meal. Lawrie brought the wine and made the effort. As the evening wore on, the subject returned to the hypnosis incident. The bottle of wine was long gone, and they’d moved on to one of her father’s considerable collection.

“You’ve spent a long time learning how to hypnotise people, yet you don’t seem to want to practice to get better,” Rosie said. “I don’t understand it.”

“It’s not something you just do when you want to,” he replied, carefully. “It involves other people and there are no guarantees everything will succeed when you do. I don’t want to tell everyone because I don’t want to be seen as some kind of eccentric weirdo with an unusual hobby. It fascinated me as a kid, but now I’m almost an adult I can see there are a number of potential minefields involved. I’m happy to do it now and then, but it’s never going to be more than a very personal ability. Yes, I’d like to get better, but not at the risk of losing my credibility.”

“What do you mean ‘minefields’?” Rosie queried.

“A lot of people are suspicious about hypnosis,” Lawrie replied, “because they think the hypnotist will mess with your head, or make you do things you don’t want to, or generally embarrass you. Then there’s the sex thing. How safe is a person from assault or worse when in a trance? There are some strange people out there who believe that by clicking their fingers, a hypnotist can take control of someone and do what you like to them. Completely ridiculous of course, especially where I am concerned, but always a possibility, however remote, because it has unfortunately happened.”

Lawrie laughed at the thought. He pulled Rosie towards him and clicked his fingers in front of her face to emphasise how stupid this was. Rosie immediately fell to sleep, and Lawrie was fortunate to be able to retrieve the glass of wine in her hand at the time before it spilt and gave her parents something to complain about when they got home.

Whilst Rosie slept, Lawrie mind went into overdrive, asking lots of rhetorical questions. How did I do that? Is this something I inadvertently created last time? Will she wake up if I count to three? If I click my fingers again, will she go back to sleep? What if I can’t wake her up? What should I do?

He put Rosie back into the position she was in before he clicked his fingers, and counted to three. At ‘three’ she opened her eyes and resumed where she had left off.

“You have a good voice for a hypnotist, in my opinion,” Rosie continued, oblivious to what had just happened. “Very confident. I’m sure the suspicious people you refer to would feel more reassured if they saw you doing it. Shall we go upstairs?”

Lawrie nodded his head and off they went. He was grateful she hadn’t noticed the time difference resulting from her unexpected nap, but was concerned that what he had managed to do to Rosie was potentially life-long. He wasn’t worried in that ‘oh shit I’ve created a monster!’ kind of way, because he was confident it wouldn’t hurt her, but he wanted to understand what had occurred so that he could try to ensure it never happened again.

IT GETS WORSE

A few days later, Lawrie is at home. It’s the evening and, unusually, he’s in the front room with his mother. His father is out at his chess club meeting. They are watching a documentary about the Everglades on TV. It’s a place both want to visit. They don’t tell each other though. It’s not what they do.

He’s been trying to understand why Rosie fell asleep after he clicked his fingers. The books in his bedroom have been re-read. He looked on the internet for advice, but retreated quickly after he realised most of the suggested sites were porn-related. Nothing obvious has come to light. Rosie seems fine. He’s starting to think that his reaction might be a little unnecessary.

“How is Rosie?” asks his mother, bringing Lawrie out from his thoughts.

“She’s fine, thanks. We’re planning a trip to the Lakes next month if the weather improves.”

It’s easy conversation, nothing too rigorous or intense. Lawrie suddenly has a thought. He gets up from his armchair and goes over to the settee where his mother is sat.

“Have you got the remote?” he asks, sitting down next to her. As his mother turns to answer him, Lawrie clicks his fingers. She immediately falls to sleep. He counts to three, and she wakes up as if nothing has happened.

“Yes, I have. Is there something special you want to watch?”

Later, when his father returns and his mother had gone up to bed, Lawrie engages him in conversation.

“How was the club tonight?” he asked.

“Fine thanks.” His father was not used to receiving such enquiries about his evening out, certainly from a son who’d never seemed interested before and particularly as he’d not actually been at the chess club at all that night. He was having an affair with a co-worker who lived on the other side of town. She was also married, and her husband was currently away on business. Naturally, he didn’t say any of this to his son. He kept it all to himself.

“Anyone there I know?” Lawrie continued, oblivious to his father’s duplicity.

“No, not tonight.” His father tried to keep a lid on the discussion. “Not many turned up, probably because it was the first meeting of the year. We avoid January and February because the hall we use is too bloody cold then. Members tend to forget, or have other plans. It will be better attended next month.”

“Can you pass me the remote?” asked Lawrie. As his father did so, Lawrie clicked his fingers and, sure enough, his father fell asleep. After rearranging him into the nearest pre-sleep position he could manage, Lawrie counted to three. His father woke up as if nothing had just happened. Bloody hell, thought Lawrie, it’s the same for all of them. What on earth have I done?

A FEW MONTHS LATER

By September that year, a lot of things had changed in Lawrie’s life.

In no order of importance, his yellow BT van had been stolen from an estate he’d been working at and later dumped after being set on fire. His managers were understanding. It was all covered by insurance. No-one was ever caught. It proved to be a blessing in disguise for Lawrie as the replacement van had a heater that worked.

Continuing the subject of dumping, his relationship with Rosie ended after he found out she was seeing somebody else.  During their inevitable confrontation, Rosie tried to defend her actions by citing his alleged inability to enjoy life. She accused him of behaving ‘like a robot’ and ’not being honest with his feelings’. Overall, Lawrie was happy the relationship was ending, but infuriated that the reasons were as described and never previously mentioned. Rosie had certainly never told Lawrie she loved him in their time together. How about that for honesty, given everything? He’d never told he loved her either, come to that. It wasn’t important.

When Rosie was becoming, in Lawrie’s opinion, particularly annoying he clicked his fingers. There was no-one around to see her collapse into a deep sleep. While she was unconscious, he accessed her mobile phone and deleted all the contacts in her address book and the list of recently dialled and received calls. It was childish, he knew, but he found it extremely satisfying. He then replaced the phone where he’d found it and counted to three. Rosie woke up as if nothing had happened and continued to rage at Lawrie’s apparent inadequacies. He stood up and left her to it. There seemed no point in hanging around.

When he looked back at the relationship, he realised if it hadn’t been for Rosie’s dissatisfaction with him, it was likely he’d still be seeing her even though he no longer wanted to be with her. He disliked confrontation and would do everything possible to pour oil on troubled waters, usually at the expense of his own happiness. He knew he needed to change, but he didn’t know how to get started.

On the subject of dissatisfaction, Lawrie had become increasingly unhappy with his own vehicle. Despite his best efforts, it was becoming unreliable again and the costs involved in repairing it far exceeded its value. He decided to upgrade, using his car as a trade-in. A combination of being able to spot a good deal and the amount of savings he had managed to accrue meant he became the owner of a Volkswagen Golf GTI with all the necessary bells and whistles. His father approved; his work colleagues found it difficult to square the nerdy, unsmiling, serious telephone engineer with someone driving a shit-hot babe magnet.

Lawrie had a small group of friends. They hooked up at weekends and occasionally during the week. Their ages were broadly similar as they mostly came from the same school. From several of the conversations they had over a few drinks, it was obvious the trials and tribulations of life being experienced by Lawrie were being replicated within this friendship group as well.

The imminent prospect of some of them departing to university at the end of the month meant the group was about to lose 50% of its regular membership. On the plus side, there would no doubt be opportunities for Lawrie and his mates to visit them occasionally, get wrecked at discounted prices in the Uni bars and crash out on sofas or floors somewhere.

On the minus side, an already small social group was about to break in two and, from Lawrie’s point of view, those remaining were already experiencing a certain amount of hostility from girlfriends about preferring to see mates at weekends instead of them. It was only a matter of time before the group effectively ceased to function. Lawrie needed to find something to do with his free time.

FOUND OUT!

Possibly the biggest upheaval of all though had followed the revelation his father had been caught cheating on his mother with a female work colleague. The awful, devastating, unbelievable news (insert your own adjective, depending on if you are Mrs Clarke, her husband, or Lawrie) was provided by the cuckolded husband. He had returned home a day early from a sales conference, cancelled due to a small fire at the hotel venue, with flowers in hand, expecting his wife to be pleased to see him.

What he didn’t expect was the sight of his wife and Mr Clarke, both naked, on his settee – yes, his bloody settee! -  going at it like rabbits. They didn’t appreciate he was standing in the doorway watching them, so they kept going. He momentarily forgot about his anger, marvelling particularly in Mr Clarke’s sheer animal energy, before coming to his senses and screaming at them.

“What the fucking hell is happening here?” On reflection, he knew precisely what was happening, but saying the right thing at the right time is not always possible when other emotions are competing for attention.

The lovers separated in panic, covering their private parts with cushions.

“Nigel, I can explain,” began the wife, as her husband approached menacingly. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Mr Clarke stood up, cushion in place. He was somewhat taller than the husband, and heavier too. The husband reconsidered his position and retreated to a safer distance.

“Hi, my name is Alistair,” said Mr Clarke. He didn’t offer his hand. “I’m sorry that we are meeting in such traumatic circumstances for you. Alison is right. She can explain. I will get dressed and leave you both to it.” He pointed towards the kitchen, where the husband saw there were clothes all over the floor.

The husband was dumbstruck, but not an idiot. Clearly, Alistair wasn’t scared. Trying to attack him as an attempt at revenge was potentially suicidal, he decided. He let Alistair pass, instead looking daggers at his wife. Nothing was said. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the room, such was the silence.

Mr Clarke dressed quickly. Exiting the kitchen, he turned to Alison and said “let’s talk tomorrow, yes?” before picking up his car keys and leaving the house. He’d parked his car a couple of streets away, just to be safe. He jogged to the vehicle, unlocked it and got in. Then, sat behind the driving wheel, he imagined how the next few hours and days were going to pan out. He wasn’t looking forward to the experience. He put his head in his hands.

In the end, and in many ways typical of the man, Mr Clarke didn’t say anything about his indiscretion to his wife. Internalise and hope for the best is how he justified it to himself. Sadly for him, any possibility what had happened would not become public knowledge was destroyed when the wronged husband appeared at the Clarke property the next evening.

He was alone, and he was definitely not happy. Over the course of a fifteen-minute period, he explained to Mr and Mrs Clarke precisely what he had found out about the affair, how the affair was now over, why his wife would never be returning to work, and what he would do if he saw Mr Clarke anywhere near his wife in future.

Turning to Mrs Clarke, he said “I’m sorry your scumbag husband didn’t have the balls to confess to you what he’s done. Like me, I’m sure that at the moment you don’t quite know what to do or say. I’d like to say you’ll feel better tomorrow, but you won’t. Your husband cheated on you and deserves to be punished. Good luck in the future. You deserve more out of life than this.”

When he left, Mrs Clarke sat on her own in the dark at the kitchen table. She wasn’t crying, but she was deeply upset. Her husband tried on two occasions to talk to her, but she waved him away. After an hour of thinking, she walked upstairs, where she found her husband sat on the side of their bed, looking at the carpet.

“I’m so sorry,” he began.

“Not interested,” replied his wife. “Pack a bag and find a hotel. You aren’t staying in this house with Lawrie and I tonight. You’re a fool if you think I’m going to let you get away with this. You’ve made me a laughing stock and I will never forgive you. Please go.”

She walked out her bedroom and tapped on Lawrie’s door. No reply. She knew he was in there though. He always was these days, since splitting up with Rosie. He’s probably listening to music or something on his earphones, she thought. She banged the door quite hard. Eventually, Lawrie opened it. He’d closed down the porn site he’d been looking at and tidied up a bit. There was more colour in his face than usual, thought his mother, as she walked in without waiting to be asked.

Lawrie was amazed by what his mother told him. He didn’t think his father would do anything like this, and he certainly didn’t expect such a hard-line response from his mother. For once in his life, he was lost for words.

“The bottom line,” his mother told him quite forcefully, “is that I refuse to share a house with your father any longer, now I know he has cheated on both of us. I don’t respect him; I certainly don’t love him; and I will never forgive him. It is my intention to speak to solicitors next week to start divorce proceedings.”

“I’ve spent twenty-two years with your father, and this is how he treats me. It’s unacceptable. The house will have to be sold so assets can be separated, so his stupidity will affect you as well. You are eighteen now, almost nineteen. There are some big decisions you need to make. Do you want to stay with me or your father? Whoever you choose, life will not be the same.”

Lawrie’s mother stood up. As she turned to walk out of the bedroom, she said “It happened to my mother and I swore it would never happen to me, because of the way it affected my life at the time. I love you, Lawrie, but I worry about the future. By the way, your flies are open.”

And off she went. Lawrie sat on his bed and, after adjusting his flies, considered his options. 2004 was turning out to be a year of dramatic events for him.

THE SINGLE LIFE

As ever, being a male member of the Clarke family meant lots of thinking and keeping things to yourself. Lawrie had read somewhere that men who did this ran the very real risk their health would be damaged, possibly permanently. He disagreed but, now nineteen, it was unlikely he would ever agree with so-called experts on this subject because he was immortal. Death, injury and illness happened to other people; other much older people. Maybe he’d reconsider when he got older. Then again, maybe not.

Lawrie drove his car to the BT depot each day and picked up his van after receiving the various job-sheets relating to the work he had to do. In the cafeteria there was a notice-board containing company announcements, trades union information, social club activities and, at one end, somewhere for staff to post their own notices. Lawrie always read these. It paid to be aware of what was going on around you.

It was where he found a possible answer to one of the dilemmas currently gnawing away at him. There was a one-bed flat available quite close to where he currently lived. It was owned by another BT employee who had moved her newly-widowed father there to be closer to her. That was three years ago. Unfortunately, the father remained unfamiliar with the road layout in the town, as evidenced when he stepped out from the pavement into the path of the No. 27 bus heading for the town centre. He was killed instantly. You may have read about it as it made most of the papers.

Lawrie made contact with the woman who placed the notice. He’d decided he’d strike out on his own following the breakdown of his parents’ marriage. He could afford to rent and this would allow him to discover if he was able to live independently. The longer-term plan was to purchase somewhere, but one step at a time. Staying at home with two parents who weren’t speaking to each other was proving soul-destroying for him. Much as he loved them, he needed to get away. Living with either of them was inconceivable.

The flat was available, but there was interest. Lawrie moved quickly and arranged to see it later that day. On the way to the viewing, he worried the flat would be full of aids and adaptations to assist the more senior occupant to cope better. He was therefore pleasantly surprised to discover the recently deceased person had been fifty-seven when he died. Other than a terminal problem with road layouts, he’d been in good health. The flat had all mod cons, and was tastefully furnished. The rental was affordable.

Lawrie liked the flat and told the owner he wished to take it there and then. She had done a bit of research on Lawrie after he announced his interest – she worked in Human Resources so had access to information about him that perhaps wasn’t intended to inform on these kind of things – and had discovered he ticked all the boxes in almost every category. He hadn’t scored highly on communication skills, ironically enough as a BT employee, but he’d contacted her when he’d read the notice, so she felt they were probably sufficient. He was young, but the research available to her indicated he had a high level of responsibility and reliability. Subject to satisfactory references being received, the flat was his for an initial twelve-month period.

He moved in during the third week of October. It was freezing. However, the flat was warm and comfortable. Both his parents visited, but not together. His father was also renting property, but in another part of town. Whilst he wouldn’t be drawn on the subject by Lawrie, the rumour-mill suggested his father was seeing Alison again. Lawrie had been given this information by a colleague who had a relative working in his father’s office. Despite several attempts to draw out the truth, Lawrie received the forward defensive response each time.

His mother still lived in the family house, which was up for sale now. It was her intention to buy something smaller once the divorce was finalised. To Lawrie, his mother seemed galvanised by the freedom separation from her husband had created. She was looking good and developing a hitherto unknown dress sense Lawrie hadn’t thought she possessed. She smiled more too, and even made jokes. It was like having a rebooted version of the downtrodden original.

Both parents were happy Lawrie seemed to be finding his feet. In their own ways, they both feared his only child status and sometimes intense demeanour would restrict his ability to cope well with the demands life throws at you. They were being proved wrong. He was getting on with everything, quietly and effectively.

THINKING IS DANGEROUS

The failure of his relationship with Rosie had upset Lawrie, not that he told anyone. He felt he’d given it his best shot but somehow blasted the penalty over the bar. Her suggestion he was somehow incapable of showing his true feelings was a punch in the guts for two reasons. Firstly, she was right (it had taken him a few weeks of self-analysis after the break-up to reach this conclusion) and, secondly, he wasn’t sure if it was possible for him to change and actually be this way.

Always an avid reader, not only on subjects such as computers and hypnosis, Lawrie digested everything he could find about honesty in relationships. Apparently, there’s a difference between saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I have feelings for you’. It was news to him. It seemed to him to be based on negative stuff. Fear, lack of trust, limited or low self-esteem. All of these feelings made it difficult to be honest because they restricted a person’s ability to think clearly; emotions were being shackled. Lawrie vowed that his next relationship would be approached in a different than way than it was with Rosie. The immediate problem was there seemed to be no possibility a relationship was on the horizon.

After a hiatus caused by the upheavals in his life during the year, Lawrence was once again becoming keen to resurrect his love of hypnosis. Again, there was a fundamental problem though – there was no-one available to practice on. His desire to keep the hobby secret had the effect of making it impossible to improve. It was a crazy situation. Occasionally, and just to keep his hand in, he would click his fingers when either of his parents called round. They still fell asleep but, to Lawrie, the effect was wearing a bit thin. He needed new blood.

The friends from university returned at Christmas, so at least Lawrie was able to revive a semi-comatose social life. He was fascinated by the stories he heard from them. It seemed the last thing anyone there did was learn anything. Instead, it was all parties, trips, gigs, sports, girls and bars. It didn’t make him jealous, but it made him appreciate there was a world out there in need of exploration.

Over the Christmas period Lawrie started to review his life so far, with the intention of introducing a number of changes in his attitude that might make things a little bit more enjoyable. He worked throughout the period, which benefited his bank balance but frustrated his parents as they were unable to spend much time with him. He fabricated some of the jobs to keep them away. He wanted to concentrate on getting his own life back on track, and ended up creating a personal code of conduct that would hopefully help him to be happy.

Christmas Day itself was totally different to the previous one. He saw both parents independently, having dinner with his mother to avoid the potential for food poisoning from his father’s attempt at cooking. It had nearly happened before. She remained in good spirits, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. As Lawrie was leaving, she asked him a question he didn’t really expect.

“How would you feel if I went out on a date?”

“Mum!” he responded, too quickly. “Isn’t it a bit soon for all this?”

“Lawrence Clarke! You are nineteen years old and wet behind the ears emotionally.” His mother was smiling as she said this. “You know almost nothing about life and love, yet you seem to feel you can tell me what I can and can’t do in my personal life. I’m not about to throw myself into an affair like your father did. I simply want to know if you’d be offended if I went out for a drink with someone.”

“Sorry,” Lawrie replied. “It was all a little bit of a surprise. Of course you should do what you want. It’s your life. I’m happy if you’re happy. Who is he?”

“That’s on a need to know basis at the moment. It might not happen at all, but if it does I don’t want you to be surprised. Please don’t mention this to your father. Thank you for being understanding.”

Lawrie wasn’t sure he understood what was happening, but decided to go with the flow. It was easier doing that. His mother kissed him on the cheek and showed him out. The house was sold now subject to contract, and his mother was moving to a small place just out of town in the next few weeks, once the uncontested divorce was finalised and the distribution of assets completed. It suddenly hit him that the place he’d grown up in would no longer be available to him soon. It made him feel slightly depressed. The house held a lot of good memories.

MOVING ON

Over the course of the next few years, Lawrie tried to abide by his new code of conduct. He found it hard though. In particular, he worked at eradicating all the negative aspects that made it difficult for him to completely immerse himself in a relationship. He wondered if anything he’d inherited from the gene pools of his parents that might explain why he found it so difficult to do this.

To improve his social life, he joined a computer club and also a bridge club. He became a member of the VW Golf GTI Owners Club online. It led to a number of liaisons with members of the opposite sex, all of which started well before crumbling into dust once Lawrie began to doubt the strength of the partner’s feelings towards him. Sometimes, these feelings were indeed on the wane and he was offering an accurate diagnosis. At other times though, the erstwhile partner was effectively tried and sentenced without the opportunity to make a case for the defence. At least Lawrie was learning the art of confrontation.

With each of the girlfriends he tried to be honest at all times, although he was discovering that this didn’t necessarily work in his favour. He was beginning to prefer a more diplomatic approach. When the subject of hobbies arose, or some of the books on hypnosis that were still in the bookcase in his bedroom were pointed out and an explanation requested, he was happy to tell the girlfriend in question about this activity. He never brought up the subject himself.

Sometimes, if he felt he could do it and the girlfriend proved amenable, he would hypnotise her. In truth, he was beginning to tire of doing this because of the amount of effort involved. He had not resolved the problem he discovered after hypnotising Rosie and his parents though. Clicking his fingers still sent whichever girlfriend he put under and woke up back to sleep days after the session. It wasn’t harmful, as far as he could tell, so he stopped worrying about it.

After three years in the small flat, Lawrie had saved enough money to buy a place for himself. He found somewhere nice away from the town, but a handy commute for his work. Much of his free time was spent doing the place up, and he did an excellent job, quietly and effectively.

As for his parents, it transpired his father did become seriously involved with Alison sometime after they were caught by her husband. Perhaps the relationship would have developed, but a heart attack suffered by his father whilst out jogging left him unconscious. By the time he was found it was too late. He wasn’t even fifty yet.

The autopsy indicated a blocked artery, but there was also substantial evidence of liver damage due to excessive drinking. No-one knew he was much of a drinker. The Coroner suggested the weight he was carrying may have contributed to the problem, particularly if he was indulging in any form of strenuous activity that his body wasn’t used to. Alison had the decency to blush when she read this part of the report. Lawrie had checks done to make sure he didn’t have any heart issues. They all came back negative.

His mother remarried. In a strange quirk of fate, her husband was Alison’s ex, Nigel. They moved out of the area after the death of Lawrie’s father. Lawrie still sees her quite often though. She still worries about him not being able to settle down. The prospect of being a grandmother fills her with happiness. The prospect of fatherhood fills Lawrie with dread.

The friends he had from school developed their own careers. Some became high-fliers, whilst others either trod water or simply under-performed. Their own relationships followed a broadly similar pattern. Some returned from university to continue where they left off, whilst others stayed away after obtaining degrees, because they were settled in the area.

His friends envied Lawrie his freedom, whilst they were in relationships and / or bringing up families. He was usually available and happy to drive them to wherever they decided to go, in his trendy sports car. They didn’t know about his insecurities and how they were affecting him. For his part, Lawrie wasn’t going to tell them either.

Lawrie envied his friends for being able to commit and enjoy a stable relationship with a life partner. He wasn’t sure about the responsibility associated with bringing children into the world, but if he found he was able to meet that special person, anything was theoretically possible. He didn’t know about the arguments caused by money worries, job insecurities, petty jealousies and interfering parents. For their part, they weren’t going to tell Lawrie about it either.

Of all his contemporaries, Lawrie has stayed in the same job the longest. Well, perhaps working for the same company is a better description. Management changes, government interventions, takeovers, technological innovation, consumer demand and financial problems have all affected his employer in one way or another and, by extension, Lawrie himself. In the almost twenty-year period of employment so far, Lawrie has done a variety of jobs within the organisation.

Many of his colleagues have left, either because they have reached pensionable age or been made redundant, but Lawrie remains in the trenches. He no longer repairs landline problems, instead being a cable-box specialist. For the uninitiated, a cable-box is sometimes also known as a junction box, a pedestal or a cabinet. They are usually green in colour and found in a variety of external locations in all towns.

When he started to do this he was transferred to Open Reach, a division of BT specialising in this kind of thing. Open Reach has recently been forcibly separated from BT, so technically Lawrie is now working for a different employer. However, everything feels just the same and the job hasn’t changed, so Lawrie still considers himself a BT employee deep down. All the work he does is undertaken quietly and efficiently.

THE PRESENT (2)

And so we return to where we started. Lawrie is still single, living in a flat in a better part of town. He drives a top of the range sports car that, frankly, is a ridiculous waste of money as he doesn’t get too many opportunities to drive it any great distance. It’s been fifteen months since his last serious relationship crashed and burned.

It was such a spectacular car-crash it’s put him off the dating scene for the moment, despite being a member of two different dating sites. As ever, the cause of the break-up was his inability to accept the fact his girlfriend loved him for who he was. The code of conduct he created all those years ago to avoid this kind of thing happening again has been thrown in the rubbish bin, along with his confidence and self-esteem. It may have been fifteen months since the trauma occurred, but it still smarts a lot. He’s very grumpy.

He’s still finding it difficult to understand what makes the world go round and why it is everyone but him seems to be happy. At least the lockdown made everyone else grumpy as well. He takes a small degree of comfort in that. Sitting on his collapsible chair in front of this cable-box, he looks up at the sky and frowns. It looks like rain soon.

He quietly and efficiently completes the job, which is the last on his list for today. He’s got a few minutes to spare, so he returns to his van which is parked in the nearby supermarket car-park and deposits his laptop and equipment in the rear. Locking the van, he notices there are a number of bird droppings on the roof which weren’t there earlier. Why his van and no-one else’s vehicle, he thinks to himself.

Inside the supermarket, the easing of lockdown restrictions has meant he can now sit in the café area and have a coffee. As he relaxes (something he’s finding it increasingly difficult to do nowadays) he watches all the shoppers wearing facemasks and trying to social distance. It’s just not possible to do this in here, he thinks again. The place is too small.

He drifts off into another world. For some reason, he starts thinking about hypnosis. It something he doesn’t do at all now. There’s just no time and there are certainly no subjects upon whom to practice. He wonders if the clicking fingers problem would still manifest itself in any of his previous subjects. As he ruminates on the subject, out of the corner of his eye he spots someone he’s not seen for sixteen years.

It’s Rosie. She looks well, as far as he can tell. He realises she’s making her way to the café area herself. He has three choices really. Say hello, ignore her or leave. He’s amazed to feel his heart is pounding in his chest. Contrary to standard behaviour, Lawrie decides to stick around and, if possible, say hello. What’s the worst that can happen?

Rosie doesn’t spot him at first. She sits down with her latte and a biscuit, and picks up her mobile phone to check something. Whilst doing this, her eyes sweep the area to help her acclimatise. Then she notices Lawrie and her mouth drops open in surprise. He waves and invites her to sit with him, subject to the restrictions in place of course. She accepts the invitation.

When she’s sat down near him, and before she picks up her drink, Lawrie clicks his fingers. She falls to sleep instantaneously, but Lawrie is immediately there to stop her from falling off her chair. He counts to three in her ear and she comes round.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she says, oblivious to what has just happened. “It’s been years. What’s been going on in your life?”