Finding Drakeford Lane was easy, but if Stacey hadn’t explained that her house had a red door and was directly opposite St. Swithin’s Church, Carla would have trudged up and down the street all day and not found it. The St. Swithin’s clock read just before one when she knocked.

“Thank you for answering the ad,” Stacey said warmly. “Basically, what I’m looking to do is research how people rate themselves when it comes to being suggestible and see how accurate they are. In other words, is it a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Stacey gazed levelly at Carla “Do you reckon you’re susceptible to being hypnotised?”
Carla looked thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know, I’ve never tried. But what I do know is I wouldn’t like it.”
“No?”
“No, I’d be upset if I thought I’d been in trance and not remembered afterwards. I’d freak out big time.”
“I see.” Stacey looked thoughtful. “That’s something I hadn’t considered. I’d be mortified if my experiments upset anyone. Look, perhaps this isn’t for you after all.”
“No.” Carla was unsure whether to show her agreement by nodding her head or shaking it. “No maybe not on second thoughts. Sorry.”
Stacey smiled reassuringly. “That’s okay. No hard feelings. Here let me show you out.”
Carla went on her way, not noticing the church clock strike five times.