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“So, what made you want to be a hypnotist?” I ask, breaking a two-minute silence. “Was it something you always wanted to do?”
“Not at first,”Nick replies. “I come from a long line of medical doctors. Before my father died, he enjoyed a distinguished career as a heart surgeon, so naturally, my family assumed I would follow in his footsteps. However,” he adds, twirling the stem of his wine glass, “my interests have always leaned toward more sociological pursuits. The human mind fascinates me, and I’ve made it my mission to find out what makes people tick.”
I nod eagerly. “Your website mentioned you’ve worked with lots of famous people. Anyone I might have heard of?”
“Sure, but confidentially prevents me from naming names. However, I will say that I once treated a Premiere League football player for a chronic gambling addiction that saw him blow half a million pounds in a single weekend. Then there was the TV chef with a sex addiction that tore his whole family apart. I’m pleased to say I cured both men and they’re now living happy, fulfilled lives.”
“That must be so satisfying for you,” I smile. “To know that you’re able to make a difference.”
“It is. I wouldn’t change what I do for the world.Helping people is a way of life. It really is a vocation for me, and I’m constantly humbled by all of the wonderful letters I receive from patients whose lives I’ve transformed. They are very uplifting.” He takes a sip of wine and savours the taste. “So, tell me about your job at the media company.”
I shrug. “There’s nothing much to tell. What I do isn’t very interesting.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“Er, well … what exactly do you want to know?”
“Tell me about the people you work with. Do you get along with them?”
“Oh, yes, everyone there is lovely. I have no complaints in that department.”
“Do you socialise much?”
“Not really. But now that you mention it, I did go out the other day for my friend Jill’s fortieth. It was a bit of a disaster.”
“How so?”
I suppress a giggle. “Do you really want me to tell you?”
“Yes. I’m very intrigued.”
I roll my eyes coquettishly. “Okay, I was wearing these false eyelashes—”
“False eyelashes?”
“Yes.”
“Are you wearing them now?”
“No way; once was enough. But as I was saying, I wore these false eyelashes, and I didn’t glue them on properly. So halfway through the meal, one of them came off and got stuck to my cheek, but I didn’t notice till I went to the bathroom. And then, oh, my God, it was so embarrassing, I looked like I had a spider stuck to my face!”
Nick chuckles softly. “That’s funny.”
“No, wait, it gets worse,” I continue. “On the way out the restaurant, I tripped over and fell into this guy. Actually, he was Jill’s brother, but I didn’t find that out till later. And then he …” I break off, realising my story’s run out of steam. “So, um, yeah, it was really embarrassing. Not a night I want to repeat anytime soon.”
He stares at me a second, his eyes flickering with amusement. “You’re so funny.”
“Funny? Funny in a good way, I hope?”
“Oh, yes. You’re really quite beguiling.”
He thinks I’m beguiling?Woo!
At that moment, our food arrives, and we drop the topic to focus on our plates. For a long while, we eat in silence, smiling every so often at each other across the table.
“So, Carly,” Nick asks, crunching on a bread roll. “Is there anyone else in the picture?”
“What do you mean?”
