Dream a Little Dream (21 page)

Stuart’s expression became almost pleading. ‘But what about—?’

‘You can make it happen,’ Dominic repeated, encouragingly. He wiped thick dust from a light switch. ‘Look at this place. It’s never been occupied because it’s the space left after designing the rest of the complex, and it’s awkward. The landlord should be glad to finally get some return on it.’

Stuart looked as if he didn’t know whether to be pleased that Dominic thought he could be an ace negotiator, or anxious at the idea of having to ask for fifty pounds off the rent. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Feeling the encroaching weight of the heavy fuzzies, Dominic let Stuart deliver him back to Miranda’s house.

‘’Lo, Dommynic!’ bellowed Ethan, racing out of the sitting room on the heels of Crosswind. The house still smelled of apples. ‘Can we play—?’

Crouching down to receive Ethan in his arms and simultaneously rub Crosswind’s wriggly back, Dominic gave the little boy a consolatory squeeze. ‘Sorry, Ethe. Got to sleep now.’ Crosswind stood up on his hind legs, resting a paw on Ethan’s shoulder.

Ethan tutted and slid an arm around Crosswind, like a little playmate. ‘Aw. You always got to sleep.’

‘Tedious, isn’t it? But I’ll only be half an hour.’ He gave dog and boy a combined hug then pushed himself upright, waved a hand through the kitchen door at Miranda and made for the stairs, knowing that he’d function better after a few zeds, even if frustrated by the necessity. Over seven days, his catnaps added up to at least three and a half hours, and that didn’t include coming round time. That was the equivalent of an entire morning wiped from his life, each week. He shoved through the door to his room, everything slipping out of focus as he heeled his shoes off, set his phone alert for thirty minutes and rolled down onto the bed.

It was a damned—

PWNsleep message board:

Tenzeds: OK, family can cope with my narcolepsy. But one friend … Not so much.

Brainwave: My mates tend to ignore it, which is OK.

Nightjack: Mine, too, except they elaborately avoid the word ‘sleep’!

Girlwithdreams: Tenzeds, if your friend is struggling with your narcolepsy, and you’re struggling with his struggling, how cool is this friend, really?

Tenzeds: He’s my oldest.

Girlwithdreams: You’d like him to be more concerned?

Tenzeds: I don’t want anyone to cluck over me! But accept what I have to do to manage the narcolepsy? Yes. Is that too much to expect?

By Saturday, as Kenny drove them back up the A14 from Royston, the Jag stuffed with their possessions, Dominic felt as if he’d spent a couple of days in a washing machine on spin.

On Thursday afternoon, he’d signed up for the flat at Stuart’s office in Peterborough, then, as Miranda had agreed to dogsit, he and Ken had driven straight to Royston. Camping out in Ken’s place, which looked like a luggage hall hit by a hurricane, as it was littered with stuff belonging to both Dominic and Kenny, they’d sat up until the early hours making lists and diagrams on a big pad and compiling Internet browser bookmarks for suppliers of kayaks, assault course builders, and ideas for how to construct an all-terrain skateboarding slope.

On Friday, he’d collected fresh meds. He hadn’t quite got used to the fact that drugs for narcoleptics were too strong and strictly controlled for him to have been able to create a stockpile, and had come dangerously close to running out. By next month, he should have safely transferred to a surgery in Bettsbrough.

He arranged for a man with a box van to visit the self-storage place he’d used, collect his half of his and Natalie’s furniture and deliver it to the new flat. He got his suit cleaned, as he supposed he couldn’t avoid Cleo’s wedding and the trousers had picked up a strange mark on the leg. He finished packing everything that he’d left in Kenny’s flat.

He was glad Kenny had a second bedroom, even if its bed was an inflatable, because, though he was wired with elation, he was exhausted enough by a late night and busy days to need two naps on Friday. It was more comfortable to be able to put a closed door between him and Kenny’s obvious uneasiness while he plunged into the short period of oblivion that made all the difference to his operating efficiency.

Apart from that, Kenny seemed as excited as Dominic, and had become a machine gun of incessant questions. ‘So, you really think you can save money on the assault course by utilising some of the trees in the coppice?’ And, ‘So you think that setting up the archery should be a doddle compared to the rest?’ Or, ‘What Health & Safety information have you got, so far?’

Dominic felt warmed that Kenny was so engaged. It was like old times, Kenny’s absorption of information depending on Dominic’s patience in articulating what he’d read. But coaching was tiring. Especially when the demands came at the same time as he and Kenny were thundering up and down stairs to load the car.

And now they were actually in the car, heading back to Middledip in time for Dominic to join Miranda, Jos and Ethan for Cleo’s wedding reception.

Joy.

At least nobody had suggested he bring a date. He’d hated attending weddings with Natalie, the feeling of being on the defensive, ready for the ‘When will it be your turn?’ comments that had always made Natalie embarrassingly evangelical on behalf of those who chose to live without the paperwork.

And he’d never been able to imagine himself doing the ‘Will you marry me?’ thing and waiting for the response. A strange ritual, with unpredictable results … as Adam had proved.

Liza – who would probably come out in boils if he ever attempted to put a ring on her finger – was supposed to be giving Dominic her answer about whether to throw in her lot with his at The Stables today, and even waiting for that made him feel antsy, in view of her unexpectedly pissy reaction to the idea of working for him.
With
him. If he’d got that right, he might have already achieved his goal. Now, she was probably going to resist out of sheer obstinacy. And although he’d talked the talk about her being optional, fulfilling his new dream would be more fun with her on board. He imagined having all that energy around to feed from. Imogen and Fenella were probably perfectly nice women, but they weren’t the ones with the chutzpah to try to oust Nicolas and stamp their own style on The Stables.

And he had no real idea where to look for someone else to run it.

Liza would have to be persuaded.

‘Tell me again why we can’t have the fan descender?’ demanded Kenny, jerking Dominic from his thoughts.

Dominic slid down in his seat. ‘Too much money for what is, basically, a tower housing a vertical jet of air for people to hurl themselves into. Slow motion freefall can’t be satisfying or exciting enough to justify the outlay.’

‘I’d still have it.’ Kenny swerved the Jag into the outside lane. ‘The punters would love it.’

‘They’ll love everything. It’s going to be brilliant.’

The bride wore red.

Nothing seemed traditional about the Reece sisters so Dominic shouldn’t have been even passingly surprised that Cleo would get married in a ruby dress that snuggled around the top half of her and flowed around the bottom.

Liza’s dress was of similar fabrics but in a smoky blue, short, clinging to the roundness of her behind, snug at her waist and baring her shoulders. Teamed with snappy, strappy purple ankle boots it made her look … edible. He wanted to nibble his way along the sexy line of her collar bone to the whiteness of her throat. And down—

Liza looked up and noticed him as he followed Miranda, Jos and Ethan across the wooden floor of Middledip village hall. He sent her his blandest smile and she returned one just as neutral, then she gave her attention to her niece who, wearing a dress that looked as if it was made from froth, swung from Liza’s hands. Noisy, excited, red-faced kids frolicked around them like a pack of puppies. A DJ did his stuff up on a small stage and the guests piled cards and presents in an empty corner, then arranged themselves about the tables in an everybody-knows-everybody-else straggle.

‘Shona! Chee-arge!’ bellowed Ethan, racing off and leaving the grown ups to deal with the boring business of finding seats and buying drinks.

‘Chee-arge!’ howled Shona, abandoning Auntie Liza and thundering to meet Ethan like a mini medieval jouster.

Jos, taking a seat beside Dominic on the end of a table of friends, stretched and sighed contentedly. ‘This is great. We can drink beer while the kids entertain each other.’ Jos hadn’t quite made it into a suit, but the blackness of his leather trousers, cowboy boots and embroidered shirt gave him a style all of his own.

Miranda looked equally chilled, eating salted peanuts, which she’d never countenance on her table at home, and nursing a giant glass of red wine. And, apart from a casual enquiry about where Kenny was – he’d remembered an urgent appointment with his walking boots – she’d apparently turned over a new leaf so far as sticking her beak into Dominic’s doings was concerned, chatting with her friends and not even mentioning Liza’s presence. Dominic was free to look around at the hall, with its pitched ceiling and run of French doors at the side.

And notice Liza. Some sort of feather thing nodded in her hair as she scooped her sister’s baby out of his buggy and carried him off to a quiet corner by the gifts to give him a bottle. Dominic looked away.

He looked back. Baby Gus wrapped plump fingers in Liza’s hair as she settled him in the crook of one arm and Dominic was shocked by a sudden clenching of his heart. His baby would have been a little person, like Gus. Dominic would have been watching him grow, getting his head around how narcoleptic dads coped. Wondering if the genetic marker had been passed on. His knowledge of infant development was hazy but he thought that his baby ought to be sitting up and banging toys and laughing, by now. If Natalie hadn’t …

The baby could never have been a person, to her. Just a medical condition to be attended to, like a mole on her collar bone, removed because it got in the way.

And then he realised that Liza was meeting his stare questioningly. He sent her another of those bland smiles, and turned to talk to Jos. It would do Liza good to wonder what was going through his mind.

He’d spent enough time trying to work out what the hell was going through hers.

The buffet looked as if it had been attacked by a plague of locusts. The children were still screaming around the dance floor. The adults lounged on chairs now adorned with discarded jackets and ties. The only ‘speech’ had been from Justin, Cleo’s new husband, who had removed his arm from around his wife only long enough to climb on the stage to say, ‘Thanks for joining us. Have a great time.’ So far as weddings went, it was a great arrangement; the bride and groom doing the ceremony thing and their friends just turning up for the party. But, sitting still for so long, Dominic became aware of the creeping onset of slow-motion heaviness. The change of pace and routine in the last few days had caught up with him; he’d risked a daytime glass of champagne and hadn’t been able to get any coffee to counteract it. Sleep was creeping up on him, ready to clamp its chloroform pad to his face.

He tapped Miranda’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to catch a few extra zeds and fetch Crosswind.’

She nodded and smiled and didn’t, for once, say, ‘Will you be OK?’ He made the five-minute walk back to Great End and Crosswind greeted him with the hysterical yapping joy of a dog who’d feared itself abandoned by humankind. ‘Hello, mate.’ Dominic held onto consciousness long enough to open the back door so that Crosswind could frisk into the garden, then, close to dropping, selected the fifteen minute alert on his phone and crawled onto the sofa. On Sunday, he’d go shopping for a bed and, once it was delivered, the flat would be more or less habitable and he’d be back in his own space—

The phone was beeping. It had reached its crescendo, which explained why Crosswind was whining and panting meaty dog breath in Dominic’s face, giving him the incentive to heave against the sofa arm until he was, roughly, sitting up, and could fumble with the phone until it shut up. Crosswind hopped down onto the carpet and looked expectant.

Dominic gazed at him, letting his head clear. ‘You’ve got potential as an alarm clock but we’re going to have to make some changes to your approach.’

Crosswind laid back his ears and beat his tail.

‘I’m supposed to be taking you back to this wedding to entertain the kids. Fancy it?’

Crosswind whirled in a circle and yapped. Dominic yawned through washing his face and collecting a few items in a small red-and-yellow bucket from Ethan’s toy chest, ready for the Great Crosswind Wedding Show. He changed into a more casual jacket. A suit never looked its best when it’d been slept in.

So that Cleo and Justin could enjoy a carefree wedding day, Liza had taken responsibility for their children. Gus, apart from feeding and changing, seemed shocked into unusual docility by the noise and the number of laps he was passed to, until, finally, he fell asleep and could be snuggled carefully into his buggy.

But Shona was poised to take up any slack in auntie capacity, twirling her sash and demanding that Liza be included in every jump and hop of the games she devised for the mass of children. So it was with relief that Liza saw Dominic stroll in, a kiddies’ bucket in his hand and his fluffy dog trotting obediently on a lead.

‘Crosswind! Dommynic!’ Shona and Ethan screamed off towards the new attraction, a posse of kids on their heels.

Dominic clicked his fingers and opened his arms. ‘Hup!’ Crosswind sprang into the air to be caught against Dominic’s shoulder, safe from the seething mass.

Smoothing her hair, Liza followed the children. She’d kicked off her boots for one of Shona’s games and the worn stone floor was cold beneath her feet. ‘Thank you for not forgetting,’ she said, politely.

‘No problem.’ He looked relaxed and more familiar now he’d ditched the jacket to his suit – although he’d looked as hot as a jalapeño in it. A smile lurked in his spooky eyes as he met her gaze over Crosswind’s folded ears and the late afternoon winter sun shone in through one of the tall windows, colouring him gold.

Liza felt as if something unseen vibrated through her, cutting them off from everyone else in the hall. She wanted to ask why he’d stared at her, earlier, his expression so strange. Why he’d been absent for over an hour.

But that would tell him that she’d noticed.

She took refuge in rubbing Crosswind’s ears, making him go soft eyed in bliss. ‘Shall I make the kids sit down, so Crosswind doesn’t get stressed?’

He raised his eyebrows at the screaming horde milling around his legs. ‘I’ll be impressed if you can.’

Raising her voice over the music, she assumed her grown-up-in-charge voice. ‘Kids, if you want to see the dog do tricks, you have to sit down.’ In three seconds, every child was seated on the dusty village hall floor.

‘OK, I’m impressed.’ Dominic stepped back, the sun still making a halo of his hair. Setting Crosswind on his four bandy legs and unclipping his lead, he scooped a lime green ball from the bucket. ‘Want to play, Crosswind?’ Crosswind launched into a happy dance, bright eyes fixed on Dominic, and barked.

‘He said “yes”,’ Ethan translated importantly, surging to his knees.

‘Everyone needs to sit down,’ Liza reminded him, softly.

Dominic turned and ricocheted the ball from floor to wall; Crosswind soared up to intercept it in mid-air as if he, too, was made from rubber. The children shouted, ‘He’s jumping! He’s catching!’

‘Good lad.’ Dominic gave Crosswind plenty of approving fuss and a dog treat from a pack in his pocket. Then, ‘Skirmish!’ Crosswind dropped his belly to the floor and crawled. ‘Poor Crosswind. Poor, poor Crosswind,’ and Crosswind adopted a pitiful limp, hanging his head as if in misery. The children screamed with laughter.

Liza grinned. Crosswind was so obviously enjoying himself, eyes alight, tail a blur, ears up, patently anticipating fuss and dog treats as his reward for every moment of obedience, gazing at his master with adoration.