Dream a Little Dream (12 page)

‘No!’ they said, together. And Liza wondered whether Dominic’s reaction was mirrored in her face – aghast eyebrows flying up over unflatteringly horrified eyes.

Dominic made a smooth recovery. ‘It wouldn’t work. My idea of teamwork is for everyone in my team to do as I say.’

Liza snorted. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. And I’m not a do-as-you-say woman.’

‘And that doesn’t surprise me.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

Dominic pulled a face of extravagant amazement. ‘Seriously?’

Rochelle laughed. ‘Dominic, why don’t you come to our Halloween party at my flat in Peterborough? The thirty-first is on a Monday, unfortunately, but a party’s a party and I always give one at Halloween. Liza can give you a lift because she’s boring about drink so she’s bound to be driving both ways. Aren’t you, Liza?’

Liza’s jaundiced response was lost in Angie’s enthusiastic, ‘Good idea! The guest list’s a bit light on men.’

Dominic gave Rochelle the benefit of his slow smile. ‘In that case, do you have room for another? My mate Kenny will be here for a few days.’

Liza jumped in smugly. ‘Then I can’t give you a lift because I’m not going to get two of you in my little Smart car, am I?’

But he just grinned. ‘Kenny’s bringing my car up, as it’s been stored in his garage. He’s happy to do a bit of chauffeuring, because, if my plans come off, he’s going to work for me as an instructor.’

‘So, he can drive you to the party.’

He gave her a pitying look. ‘Kenny won’t go to a party and not drink. No, I’ll get the insurance sorted and you can drive mine. Thank you.’

PWNsleep message board:

GuiltyGeorge: Awww no, my GP’s treating me like a kid and sending me to bed at the same time every night!

Tenzeds: Sleep hygiene?
To be positive, it does provide you with a form of taking charge of your life. Taking charge makes me feel better. Sometimes.

In preparation for joining the ranks of business owners, Dominic looked for ways to feel positive and productive.

Building on his fitness, he took Crosswind on longer walks and ran or took his board and skated in the late afternoons.

He had long exciting phone-planning sessions with Kenny and shorter calls to finance and insurance providers over the boring bits. He had a preliminary meeting with an accountant in Bettsbrough.

As a smooth changeover was essential, prescription-wise, if he was to avoid becoming inoperative, he got his GP in Hertford to put him in touch with a suitable one in Peterborough, ready for if he moved into the area.

And, to make such a move possible, asked local estate agents for rental property listings, discovering there were several available actually in Middledip, all in an area called Bankside. ‘The new village,’ Miranda explained, with an expression that suggested only the old village was cool. ‘Jos calls it Little Dallas. It’s all porticoes and pillars.’

Office hours had never applied to him, but now that he needed to be functional at the same time as the ordinary working world, he began concentrating on his sleep hygiene, setting his morning alarms for seven and keeping busy until his noon sleep. In the evenings, he entertained Ethan, building Duplo castles and squidging Play-Doh, then played poker with Jos, which prevented evening-television-induced torpor. At ten, he retired to his room to read, sitting with his back against the cool of the wall. When he got into bed at eleven he was ready for sleep, rather than sleep being ready for him. He stuck to the regime religiously all week.

By Saturday, he was sick to death of it.

Even though he hadn’t experienced any of the groggy days when the sleep monster wouldn’t let him out from under him, he decided that nobody could live so unnaturally cleanly forever.

He texted Kenny:
What’s your ETA?
Kenny returned:
2pm put beer in frij
.
Dominic walked Crosswind early and took his second white pill late, anticipating that the evening would be stimulating, with Kenny around, but bedtime would be delayed. When Kenny drew up, Dominic was so glad to see his childhood buddy that he went outside to greet him, though it wrenched his guts to see Kenny climbing out of the smooth black lines of Dominic’s S Type.

‘Hey, Doc!’ Kenny did the cool-but-manly clasp-hands-bump-shoulders thing. Tanned and lean, his brown eyes were bright and his hair fell as if he’d had it styled that morning. Kenny might have trodden the wilderness trails but his look was anything but Grizzly Adams. ‘So what’s it like giving up the control tower for village life?’

‘I’m getting into it.’ Dominic ran a hand over the hot shiny bonnet of his Jag in a silent but loving greeting. ‘Say hi to Miranda and co, then we need to go into Peterborough and hire Halloween costumes for a party on Monday.’

‘Awesome.’ Kenny hopped the hedge and jogged indoors for just long enough to dump his gear, get Miranda and Jos laughing, Ethan shouting and Crosswind barking. Then they were strapping themselves into the car’s black leather interior, Dominic, in the passenger seat, pricked with a thousand needles of jealousy as Kenny shifted from park to reverse, turned the car and hummed forward in the smooth glide that Dominic ached to have back under his control.

He forced himself to switch focus. ‘Turn right and you’ll pick up the signs to Peterborough as soon as you leave the village.’

Kenny drove one-handed into Main Road, past The Three Fishes and the turning for Great Hill Road. ‘Impressed that you’ve lined up a party on a weeknight.’ He accelerated as they left the village, between leafless hedges and ploughed fields. ‘And tonight, how about we take Miranda and her clan out to dinner, as they’re letting us crash at their place? They’ll have to disappear early because of little Ethan, then you can show me the clubbing in Peterborough.’

‘I’ve been so taken up with getting my life back on track, I haven’t done any clubbing.’

Kenny glanced over sharply, making the car jink towards the verge and Dominic clutch the sides of his seat in an effort not to protest. ‘You’re kidding me.’

Dominic shrugged. ‘It would mean a taxi in and out of Peterborough and I wouldn’t know anyone once I got there.’

Kenny shook his head despairingly. ‘That’s why you go to clubs, Doc, to “get to know” women. Never mind, we’ll get Jos to drop us off in the city and see what we find. You’re not hiding away in the sticks because you’re still hung up on Natalie, are you?’

‘No.’ Dominic didn’t elaborate. Somewhere in the corners of his mind he was aware of the reason that he hadn’t looked outside Middledip for entertainment. Liza Reece. Pulling him like a magnet.

Kenny let the car slow as he approached a junction, checking both ways. ‘You in touch with Natalie? I know she didn’t deal with it when you … got ill.’

Kenny’s tone was artificially casual and Dominic suppressed a sigh. Natalie hadn’t been the only one not to deal with his narcolepsy. Kenny had been just as all-too-obviously uncomfortable with it. His heart dipped in disappointment. ‘Once the house and finances were settled there wasn’t much need for us to communicate but she sent me an e-card on my birthday and she e-mails now and then. She went to New York for a while, with her company, but it wasn’t permanent.’

Another few minutes and they had reached the ring road around Peterborough, Kenny glancing from mirror to mirror as he slotted into the circulating traffic and straight into the fast lane until he reached the slip road marked City centre. ‘She could spring some surprises, couldn’t she? Natalie.’

Rocking in his seat as the car whizzed around the roundabout, Dominic sighed. ‘And she got no more predictable as our relationship stalled. You know what she did with … with the baby.’

Kenny sucked in a big breath. ‘Yeah. Totally shocked.’ Left at the next roundabout, then right, following the flowing traffic over an old-fashioned bridge of blue-painted iron to the rising hulk of the shopping centre and the satellite multi-storey blocks, a contrast to the graceful spires of the cathedral to their right. Kenny aimed the car towards the entrance of a car park as if flying a spaceship on a video game.

PWNsleep message board:

Tenzeds: It’s hard when N affects my mates. But then when they’re tactless …! Grr.

Sleepingmatt: Some people are *rses, mate. They can’t help it.

Girlwithdreams: Is it sympathy or empathy that’s the prob?

Tenzeds: Empathy, lack of. Sympathy, if there’s too much!

Dominic tried not to feel pissed off that, last night, Kenny had abandoned the heat and noise of the nightclub for the delights of a drunken, giggly, high-hemline, low-neckline woman with short black hair and smudged black eyeliner, leaving Dominic to queue on his own at the rank for a taxi back to Middledip.

Now it was Sunday afternoon, just when he’d planned to take Kenny to Port Manor and show him the location for his dream, and Kenny still hadn’t made it back to Miranda’s house. His phone was off, as if Dominic didn’t already have enough frustrations.

So, here he was, staring out of Miranda’s sitting room window at the scudding clouds and bending trees, on his feet because last night he’d drunk too much and slept too little and he knew that if he sat down he’d be gone. Despite his lunchtime nap, his head was shadowy and he was already full to the brim with coffee.

Negativity washed over him like dirty water. Maybe this was all just too hard. Taking Crosswind out after lunch had been the only time he’d felt alert today, and now the little dog slept on the rug before the fire, twitching with dreams. Perhaps he should start a dog-walking service. Or maybe he should forget his dreams and look for an employer to set goals and make allowances for him.

He searched inside himself for strength. Determination. Motivation. For even the minor kind of energy that had Miranda singing to herself in the kitchen and Jos doing something under the bonnet of the family car. Nope.

Slowly, he turned away from the window. Giving up, giving in, he let himself drop into a fat floral armchair and his eyes rest on the flickering flames behind the fireguard.

‘Read to me, Dommynic?’

Dominic turned, blinking. He’d missed Ethan coming into the room but now the little boy was leaning over the chair arm, candid blue eyes hopeful. ‘’Kay,’ Dominic managed, heavily.

Weight on his lap. Ethan’s chatter, distant. Distance. Falling. Head tipping. He snapped it back. Sounds. Front door? Someone coming … Head tipping …

Then Dominic was trying to read a huge book, though the words meant nothing. The book was the one that Miranda’s mum, Aunt Louise, used to read to him and Miranda, about dogs with eyes like saucers and toy soldiers with one leg.
Three dogs, their eyes growing larger and larger and Kenny, wanting Dominic to read to him. ‘You know I can’t read, Doc—’

Ethan, whining. ‘Dommynic isn’t reading—’

Miranda’s voice—

Dogs and soldiers
—

A bell, loud and tinny. Dominic opened his eyes. Adjusted his head so that his neck stopped hurting. The bell rang on. He gazed around, trying to work out what was happening – did his phone make that sound?

On the table beside the armchair was a white device like a big bottle top with numbers all round it and the noise seemed to be emanating from that. He wiped his face, rubbed his eyes. Picked up the white device and pressed a button marked ‘off’. The ringing stopped.

Crosswind had pushed himself up to a sitting position on the fireside rug, blinking away sleep, one ear folded back. He yawned and shook his head, looking as bleary as Dominic felt.

In the other fat floral armchair sat Kenny, staring. ‘Fucksake, Doc,’ he said, quietly.

Dominic felt a hot flush of mortification. ‘Yeah.’

‘I mean, fucksake. I walked in and just watched you flake out. It’s like you have no control. You just, like, fall unconscious.’

‘Welcome to my world. But next time, wake me, OK? Don’t just …’
Don’t just watch, you freak,
he stopped himself from snapping. He glanced down self-consciously, checking for morning glory or disarranged clothing, waiting for the weight of a sleep attack to slither off him, for the prickling anger to disperse. Knowing that it soon would, that he only felt like that in the first horrible minute of waking and discovering he’d shown weakness in public. Waiting for it to be safe to stand up, he let his mind admit his surroundings: Ethan’s high piping and Miranda’s voice coming down the hall.

Then they were there, Miranda holding Ethan on her hip. ‘Now Dominic’s woken up, look.’

Ethan frowned accusingly at Dominic, finger and thumb hooked damply into his mouth. ‘You went to sleep.’

Dominic managed a smile. ‘Sorry, Ethe, I think you asked me to read to you just as I was dropping off. Do you want me to read your story, now?’

Ethan shook his head, fingers still in his mouth. ‘Mummy readed it to me, anyway.’ Then he laid his head on Miranda’s shoulder and screwed his eyes shut. ‘I’m ’sleep, now.’

Miranda grinned at Ethan’s elaborately unrealistic ‘nap’, but her eyes were shadowed. ‘I gave you about twenty minutes, because you’d already had thirty at lunchtime, was that OK? I set the oven timer.’

‘Resourceful.’ He felt strength return and rose to his feet, moving away from the chair, the scene of his embarrassment. He’d talk to Miranda alone, later, explain that, although he was grateful, it would have been better to rouse him and give him the chance to get himself some privacy. ‘Thanks.’ He yawned and stretched.

Then he was feeling OK. Everything was becoming bright and clear. He grinned at Kenny. ‘So you finally found your way back? The light will soon be gone today so I’ll take you to Port Manor tomorrow. How about we take Ethan and Crosswind over to the playing fields, now, to make up for my failure in the storybook department?’

‘Yeah!’ shouted Ethan.

Crosswind jumped to his feet, shook himself hard, collar and identity disc tinkling, and was eyes-bright awake.

Good trick. Dominic wished he knew it.

It was one of way too many lulls in the week’s bookings. Liza kept finding reasons to pass through reception so she could check whether the big black car was still parked in the stable yard. An hour ago, Dominic Christy and another man had climbed out of it; she happened to have been at Pippa’s desk and had watched them. The other man had gazed around at the buildings, nodding while Dominic talked, pointed, explained.

Zipped into jackets, hair blowing, both men looked alive and purposeful. Occasionally, Dominic said something that made the other man laugh. Then they turned their backs on the buildings and walked to the crest of the slope down to the lake. Dominic indicated the vista, portioning off part of the landscape possessively with his arms. Then they stepped onto the grass, disappearing in horizontal slices as they strode down the steep incline.

Huh.

Back in her treatment room, which looked out in the opposite direction, towards the hotel, Liza looked at the grey flags of clouds the sky was flying and wondered whether rain dances worked. And if there was a dance for particularly torrential rain to make Dominic and his friend race back to the car, preventing Dominic from showing off what he obviously saw as his new kingdom. Or maybe the grassy slope could cave in under the torrent and he’d shrug and move his planned outdoorsy centre to … somewhere else. A really good somewhere else, she thought, generously, where he would be happy and fulfilled and make lots of dosh.

And then Liza would have no competition for the lease and Nicolas would have to let it go – to her – for some affordable sum. She could make a huge success of her new venture. And also lots of dosh.

Sorted.

Except, it wasn’t raining. There was no landslip. He probably wouldn’t even get mud on his shoes.

She looked across at Nicolas’s door. Shut again. Some suit had gone in first thing this morning, armed with laptop and briefcase. Nicolas had given the same suit a tour of the centre three days ago, without introducing him to anyone. Liza suspected he was valuing the lease and had returned today to help Nicolas decide on an asking price.

Or he could be another person interested in taking the lease. The idea collided uncomfortably with the walls of her stomach. Her hands clenched and she wanted to shake Nicolas until he spat out how much he wanted for his precious lease, so that she could make an appointment with the bank and set the ball rolling.

When Pippa appeared, tall and leggy, ‘Here’s your eleven o’clock, Liza,’ for an instant Liza wanted to tell the client to go to hell. Her head was whirling too hard for her to feel like giving, accommodating. But dragging her thoughts from Nicolas’s office and Dominic striding the grassy slope, she pinned on a smile. ‘Hi! Come in – I’m Liza Reece.’ The client was new, in her twenties, hair, nails, make-up and clothes good, exactly the core area that Liza saw providing the additional clients she would need for her treatment centre.

New clients would be crucial, if she was successful in buying the lease.

She closed her mind to the spectre of failure while she talked to the client and treated feet that spoke to her of migraine and eye issues.

And when her client had left, enthusing about how amazingly relaxed she felt and clutching a handful of cards to pass out to her friends, Nicolas finally shouted across the corridor, ‘Liza! Can you come in a minute? I’ve got a number for you.’

Anticipation trembled up from the soles of her feet.