 Penguin Audio presents The Hypnotists' Love Story by Leanne Moriarty Read by Tamara Lovett-Smith Chapter 1 When people think of hypnosis, they think of swinging pendulums. You're getting sleepy and volunteers clucking like chickens on stage shows. So it's not surprising that many of my clients are quite nervous when they visit me for the first time. In fact, there is nothing unnatural or frightening about hypnosis. Chances are you've already had the experience of going into a trance-like state in your day-to-day life. Have you ever driven to a familiar destination and found that you have no memory of the drive? Guess what? You were in a trance. From an introduction to Eleanor Farrell, hypnotherapist, leaflet, I had never been hypnotized before. I didn't really believe in it, to be honest. My plan was to lie there and pretend it was working and try not to laugh. Most people are surprised by how much they enjoy it, said the hypnotist. She was all softness and soap, no makeup or jewelry. Her skin had a polished, translucent look as if she only ever bathed in mountain streams. She smelled like one of those overpriced crafty shops you find in country towns, Sandalwood and Lavender. The room we were in was tiny, warm and strange. It was built on the side of a house like an enclosed balcony. The carpet was musty with faded pink roses, but the windows were modern, floor-to-ceiling panels of glass like those in an atrium. The room was flooded with light. As I walked in, the light seemed to whoosh through my head like a brisk breeze, and I could smell old books and the sea. We stood together, the hypnotist and me, our faces close to the windows. When you stood that close, you couldn't see the sand below, just the sea. A sheet of flattened, shiny tin that stretched out to the pale blue line of the horizon. I feel like I'm at the helm of a boat. I said to the hypnotist, who seemed excessively delighted by this comment and said that it was exactly how she always felt, her eyes round and shiny, like a children's entertainer. We sat down opposite each other. My chair was a soft, green leather recliner. The hypnotist's chair was a striped, red and cream winged armchair. There was a low coffee table in between the chairs with a box of tissues. Some people must cry sobbing away about their past lives as starving peasants. A jug of ice water with two perfectly round slices of lemon floating on top. Two tall water glasses, a small silver bowl of shiny wrapped chocolates and a flat tray filled with tiny colored glass marbles. I once had a big, old-fashioned marble that belonged to my father when he was a boy. I'd hold it in the palm of my hand for luck during exams and job interviews. I lost it a few years ago, along with all my luck. As I looked around me, I saw that the light reflected off the ocean and onto the walls. Prisms of dazzling, dancing light. It was a bit hypnotic, actually. The hypnotist had her hands folded in her lap, her feet placed squarely on the ground. Flat ballet shoes, black tights, embroidered ethnic-looking skirt and cream wraparound cardigan. Hippy but elegant, new age but classic. I thought, what a beautiful, calm life you must lead. Sitting in this extraordinary room each day, bathed in dancing light, no emails filling your computer screen, no irate phone calls filling your head, no meetings or spreadsheets. I could sense her happiness. It radiated off her, sickly, like cheap perfume. Not that she would ever wear cheap perfume. I tasted sour jealousy in my mouth and helped myself to a chocolate to make it go away. Oh, good. I'll have one, too, said the hypnotist, unwrapping the chocolate with warm, girly camaraderie like we were old friends. She is that sort of girl. She probably has a whole circle of giggly, supportive, lovely girlfriends, the sort that hug each other hello and have sex in the city DVD nights and long, shrieky telephone conversations about men. She opened a notepad on her lap and spoke with her mouth adorably full of chocolate. She said, Now, before we do anything, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Oh dear, I shouldn't have chosen. Sample complete. Ready to continue?