Peter May - Runaway

I was wondering why on earth he was telling us this, when he looked at me and smiled, almost as if he had heard the thought spoken aloud.

‘You’re probably wondering what this has to do with anything.’

I was glad of the smoke and the flickering light that hid my blushes. And I had the oddest sense of having been violated, the fingers of his mind reaching in to grasp my innermost thoughts.

‘Dr Walker is the one who will be employing you. And you should feel honoured. The man is famous on both sides of the Atlantic. He has set up a project in the East End of London to put his theories to the test. Along with colleagues, he has taken possession of a former community complex known as the Victoria Hall, in Bethnal Green. He lives there with a number of patients who would otherwise be confined in mental institutions. Under his tutelage, they are free and equal members of the hall’s twenty-five or so residents, which include psychiatrists and psychologists. And, trust me, you’d be hard pushed to tell the difference.’

I could hear music now, but had no recollection of Dr Robert putting any on, and no idea where it was coming from. The strange thing was that, although I knew it was music, I couldn’t have told you what kind of music. Classical, pop, rock ’n’ roll, jazz. It was just music, and it seemed amazing to me.

‘The Victoria Hall experiment has already gained quite a reputation. There’s a lot of media interest, and a number of what you might call celebrities drop by to consult with JP or just hang out.’ He grinned. ‘Names and faces you probably wouldn’t believe.’

He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. It gave me the urge to have one myself, and although I managed to get a cigarette out of the packet, I somehow couldn’t seem to hold it between my fingers. It kept moving as if it were alive. I looked up and saw Rachel turning her head towards the window. It left a kind of coloured trail that traced the movement of her head, and I felt a tiny seed of anxiety start to burgeon deep inside me.

‘Anyway, our friend JP is looking for performance artists who will improvise dramas for the residents at his direction. Nothing too structured, but designed to provoke discussion.’ He blew smoke towards the ceiling and it seemed to me to take shape in the form of a dragon breathing fire. ‘There’s a local pop group in Bethnal Green who use the hall for practising. They leave their stuff set up there. I’m sure JP can persuade them to let you use their gear to practise for yourselves. And then we can get an idea of just how good you are. Or not.’

Finally, I managed to get the cigarette to my mouth. But when I turned the sparking wheel on the lighter, the flame that leapt out of it reached the ceiling. I looked up as it flattened itself against the plaster, and spread out like water to cover the entire surface.

I heard Dave say, ‘What the fuck?’ And when I turned he was staring, wild-eyed, at one of Bridget Riley’s paintings on the wall.

I felt Rachel’s hand slip into mine, and for a moment all my anxiety slipped away. She was smiling. Serene and beautiful. Her hair was glowing, silver and gold, red and green, and as she reached out to touch my face I saw each movement of her arm as a sequence of images, each fading as the next formed, a slow-motion trail of fingers and flesh, and then the touch of her fingertips on my skin like needles.

And still Dr Robert’s voice penetrated my consciousness.

‘Johnny... that’s what they call him. Johnny Walker. Get it? Johnny uses LSD in some of his treatments. He takes the trip with them, so that he can share what can often be a psychotic experience, and guide them through it. Of course, some people like to use it for purely recreational purposes. Some big names are into that these days, boys. Bet you didn’t know the Beatles are dropping acid. I’ve heard some of the stuff they’re writing. Man, it’s just taking them to the next level. And they’re not the only ones.’ He sat back and smiled. ‘Just about everyone comes to me when they want to go tripping. You know what LSD is, boys?’

I heard Luke’s voice come from somewhere. ‘Lysergic acid diethylamide. Commonly known as acid.’

‘Ah, our savant again. Our know-it-all. But absolutely right. A semi-synthetic psychedelic drug that can alter thinking processes, visual and aural awareness, leading to sometimes intense spiritual experiences.’ He grinned. ‘So how is it for you, boys?’

And I realized, with a sudden and very intense clarity, that Dr Robert had somehow slipped acid into our meal. All my anxiety returned in a rush, and Rachel’s hand in mine felt like it was crushing me. I turned to see her wolf’s head snarling in my face.

But Luke’s voice somehow cut through all of it. Clear, controlled and reassuring.

‘You shouldn’t have done that, Dr Robert. Not without their permission. I have read that LSD is the only thing, apart from cancer, that can actually split your genes and change your personality.’

I glanced across the table and saw that Luke’s wine glass was untouched. He had not drunk a drop. So it had been in the wine, and he was quite unaffected.

Dr Robert said, ‘There is some debate about that. But, anyway, no need to worry. It was the tiniest dose, and it will wear off very quickly.’ He looked around the table, eyes shining. ‘This is the sixties, boys. You need to experience it all. You can’t do it second-hand. Not if you want to compete with the rest.’

By the time we went down to the basement for the night, we were also coming down from the trip. Angry and excited at the same time. I was quite shaken. I had not enjoyed the strange visual distortions produced by the acid, and still felt a residual sense of anxiety.

Luke, of all of us, was the most furious and wanted us to pack up our stuff and leave immediately. ‘He had no right. No right at all!’

But we weren’t going to go down that road. Both Maurie and Dave were unsure of the experience and hesitant about trying it again. But their hesitation, I knew, meant that they would.

I knew I wouldn’t. The heightened sense of awareness that came from smoking dope was different. You felt in control of that. But an acid trip seemed random, and utterly dependent on your mood to determine whether it would be a good or bad journey on the road to paradise or psychosis.

I caught Rachel eyeing me with strangely dilated pupils, a faintly knowing smile curling the corners of her mouth, and I wondered what kind of experience it had been for her.

For Jeff, however, there was no doubt. ‘Man, that was AMAZING,’ he said. ‘Did you see them? Did you?’

‘See what?’ Maurie said.

‘The rainbows. Coming right out of the wall. I swear to God, I’ve never seen colours like it. It was just beautiful.’ He looked around all our vacant faces. ‘Didn’t you see them?’

‘It was all in your head, Jeff,’ Luke told him. ‘Everyone experienced something different.’

And Jeff seemed disappointed by that.

Luke picked up his bag. ‘I think we should all get a decent night’s sleep and talk about this in the morning.’

I had thought there was going to be some argument about who was going to get which room. There were only three: a single and two doubles. But it seemed the others had already discussed it and made a decision to which neither Rachel nor I had been privy. Rachel, Maurie said, was to get the single at the end of the hall. He would share with Jeff, and Luke and Dave would share the other. I was to get the settee.

‘That’s not fair!’ I said.

‘No one cares what you think,’ Maurie said. ‘It’s been decided.’

I glanced at Rachel and she just shrugged, lifted her bag and headed off along the hall.

Luke hung back when the others had gone. He kept his voice down. ‘I don’t like this, Jack.’