Dream a Little Dream (22 page)

‘Watch out!’ shouted Dominic, pointing behind Crosswind, and Crosswind whipped around to look, snarling fiercely enough to see off the scariest of street gangs. Just as quickly, he whipped back to face his master, tongue lolling in a big doggy grin. ‘Feeling itchy?’ Crosswind rubbed his face on the floor. Laughter swelled from the row of adults who’d come to watch from behind the children. Ethan jumped to his feet, but Miranda was there to take his hand and keep him from ruining the show.

‘Gimme five!’ Dominic held his palm out in front of him. With a yip of glee, Crosswind leaped up and touched it with his paw.

Then Dominic uncoiled a rope from the bucket and began to skip. Crosswind jumped in, bounding into the air like a puppet dog on strings, ears flapping, face almost level with Dominic’s.

‘Yeah! The doggie can skip!’

Letting the rope go limp, Dominic dropped to his knees. ‘Wow, that made me hot. I’m hot, Crosswind.’ He held out an arm.

Propelled by his ever-wagging tail, Crosswind gripped the cuff of Dominic’s jacket delicately in his teeth and backed up, pulling the sleeve right off Dominic’s arm. Dominic turned and Crosswind repeated the feat with the other sleeve.

As the children clapped, Dominic folded his jacket into a tight square and put it on the ground. ‘Time for bed.’ Crosswind lay down with his head on the jacket like a pillow, bounding to his paws after a ‘sleep’ that lasted only a scant second.

Crouching, Dominic suddenly levelled a two-fingered ‘gun’ at his dog, brow curling sternly. ‘Freeze!’

Crosswind froze, quivering.

‘Spread ’em!’ Dominic slapped the wall. Crosswind stood up on his hind legs and propped his front paws on the white emulsion, waiting for Dominic to pat him down before he moved. But it seemed that he moved too soon. Dominic extended his hand-pistol again and shouted,
‘Bang!’
And Crosswind dropped instantly to his side on the floor, the image of a mortally wounded dog. Except for the tail, rotating wildly enough almost to move him along the floor and the eyes waiting eagerly for the next game.

The children screamed with laughter, and Liza found herself laughing with them.

Ethan broke free from Miranda’s restraining hand, yelling, as usual, at the top of his voice. ‘Dommynic, Mummy thinks you’re dickless!’

Dominic paused. His blazing gaze flicked to Miranda, who, eyes round in mortification, was shaking her head wildly, a horrified hand across her mouth. ‘She may do,’ he said, gravely, ‘but, hopefully, the word she used was “ridiculous”.’ And he began to laugh. He tipped backwards from a crouch, until he was somehow lodged up against the wall. And became silent, whilst around him the adult portion of the audience enjoyed the joke.

It wasn’t until Crosswind bounded over to stare fixedly into his human’s face, one paw on Dominic’s leg, that Liza realised what was happening. Quieting, a few of the adults began to look askance at tableau of man and dog.

Uncertainly, she took a step.

Miranda did the same.

The knowledge that he’d probably choose Liza’s brand of concern over Miranda’s made up Liza’s mind. She strolled over and dropped down beside him, as if taking a break on the village hall floor was completely natural. Miranda gave Liza a quick smile and turned away.

Dominic’s face was still. After several seconds he blinked, his eyelids somehow not quite in sync. He blinked again, and they were.

‘Your dog’s a lot of fun. The kids have really enjoyed it.’

He blinked again, stirring.

‘Thanks a lot for bringing him,’ she continued, chattily, watching the audience lose interest and disperse now that the entertainment seemed over.

He managed a nod. Obviously recognising the return of normal behaviour, Crosswind jumped to his paws, tail blurring, and Dominic lifted his hand to the dog’s furry head. ‘’M all right,’ he said.

Liza tapped her fingers absently along to Bjork, mulling over the way that Dominic accepted his condition without whinging, even though, in a succession of kicks in the guts, he’d lost his career and his girlfriend and his home. In response, he’d adapted, reinvented. Accepted what he could and couldn’t have. Refused to let the latter screw with the former.

And she saw that her best option was to do the same. It was time to stop mourning an opportunity that had probably never quite been there. She breathed in the last of her regrets, and expelled them. The next breath brought acceptance. ‘If you still want me to manage the treatment centre, if you think that we can work together, I’m in.’

Slowly, one corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes gleamed. ‘Good. I was hoping you’d try to seduce me into withdrawing my offer for the lease, but OK.’

She laughed. ‘I might have done, if I hadn’t thought you’d cheerfully co-operate up to the point where you had to give up The Stables.’

‘You’re really getting to understand me.’ His smile faded. ‘But, to be serious – that night? It’s forgotten.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed. Of course.

Then Ethan raced up and skidded to a halt against Dominic’s legs. ‘Please will you get me a drink, Dommynic? I’m thirsty-thirsty-thirsty! Mummy and Daddy are
talking
all the time.’

‘Let’s go to the bar, then. Here, Crosswind.’ Dominic pulled the lead from his pocket, snicked it onto Crosswind’s collar and climbed to his feet, saying, to Liza, ‘Let’s have a planning session. When’s your next day off?’

‘Tuesday.’ The space beside her felt suddenly cold.

‘Wanna drink, Dommynic!’ Ethan swung Dominic’s arm, face screwed up in an expression of wretched neglect.

Dominic let himself be dragged a step nearer the bar. ‘Great. My side of things will be taking most of my attention, but the sooner we do some preliminary joint promo, the better. If we can start a buzz about what’s coming, it’ll make it easier to hit the ground running. I’ll try and make contact with local media before our meeting. Midday in the pub?’

‘Fine.’

‘Wanna drink! I’m
thirsteeee
 
…
’

And Liza was left on the floor, trying not to notice that he hadn’t offered to buy her a drink. Then she told herself that there was no reason in hell for her to be hurt that he was totally willing to forget ‘that night’ if he thought that remembering it would prevent him from getting what he wanted. The Stables. His lovemaking had satisfied some part of her soul and several parts of her body, but that memory lapse was what she’d demanded.

She’d just thought he’d have put up more of a fight.

Excessive daytime sleepiness was a central symptom of narcolepsy. After two nights with a baby who wouldn’t sleep for more than two hours at a stretch, no matter how often he was fed, changed, rocked or had his feet done, and run ragged during the day by an endlessly energetic four-year-old, Liza was beginning to experience some excessive daytime sleepiness of her own. Eyelids of lead, legs of water, she found herself pretty much living upstairs where it was handy for clean clothes and the toilet.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she sat on the bathroom floor and changed Gus’s nappy.

Shona crouched companionably beside her. ‘Gus doesn’t have a front bottom.’

‘Because he’s a boy.’ Liza struggled with baby wipes that refused to emerge from the pack singly. Finally triumphing, she fought to clean Gus up, and he fought to kick her away.

‘I’m allowed to wipe my own front bottom,’ observed Shona.

‘Well done.’

As Liza and the baby wipe won the battle, Gus began to cry.

‘But I’m not allowed to wipe my back bottom because I get poo everywhere.’

‘It’s tricky stuff,’ Liza acknowledged, gravely.

‘So Mummy has to do it. Mummy says she gets all the best jobs.’

‘I know how she feels.’ Liza fastened Gus into his nappy, into his vest, into his suit-thingy, washed her hands and scooped him up. ‘How about I read you a story?’ Gus turned puce with the effort of howling.

Shona bounded to her feet, almost tripping Liza over. ‘No! I want to play “snakes slide downstairs”.’ Shona flopped down at the top of the stairs and balanced on her little round belly.

‘
Waaaaah!
’ bellowed Gus.

‘Whoa, Shona! You’ll fall.’ Cheeks aching with yawns and head ringing with baby screams, Liza clutched Gus against her shoulder and lunged, abortively, for Shona’s legs.

‘No, I won’t,’ contradicted Shona, breathlessly, bum joggling as she snaked down the first two steps.

‘
Waaaaah!
’ bellowed Gus.

‘I’m sure Mummy doesn’t let you—’

‘She does!’ Gathering speed, Shona bumped down steps three to eight.

‘
Waaaaah!
’

‘Shona, I’m sure she doesn’t!’

‘She do-oe-oe-OES!’ Shona jolted down the last few steps to land in a triumphant heap in the hall. The doorbell rang. Gus threw up hotly down Liza’s neck. And stopped crying.

Feeling put upon – and sicked upon – Liza muttered, ‘Hell-hell-
hell
.’ Clutching the handrail with one hand and the baby with the other, she trod rapidly down the staircase.

‘Bad word,’ Shona pointed out. ‘My tummy hurts.’

‘Not surprised.’ Clinging on to her patience, Cleo guided Shona to one side and reached around her to open the door.

Cleo and Justin beamed from the doorstep, wearing the glossy, languorous, loved-up look of a couple who had just spent two days in bed, a civilised amount of it sleeping, and had risen late and showered in peace. ‘Mummy! Daddy!’ shrieked Shona, hurling herself at her parents’ legs. ‘My tummy hurts.’

‘About time!’ Liza grumped. ‘I hope you had a scrumptious time, I’m late for work and there’s baby sick in my bra.’ She thrust Gus, gurgling and grinning now, at Justin.

‘Lucky you.’ Justin went to kiss his baby son but drew back at the unmistakeable whiff of vomit.

Cleo turned Liza around and propelled her towards the stairs, much as Liza had steered Shona a few seconds ago. ‘We’ll pack up the kids’ stuff while you jump into the shower. At least he didn’t get your hair.’

‘Big comfort.’ Liza trudged back the way she’d come, way too tired to take the stairs at a run.

‘My tummy
hurts
.’ Shona began to wail. ‘Ow, Mummy, my tummy!’

Behind Liza, Cleo tutted. ‘I suppose you’ve been playing “snakes slide downstairs”? How many times have you promised not to? You get carpet burns on your tummy and … No, don’t cry, sweetie. Mmm, poor Shona. I’ve got cream in my bag that’ll soon make the nasty burn go away.’ Cleo’s comforting maternal coos faded as Liza shut herself thankfully in her bathroom and dragged off her jeans and top, threw the top in a basin full of water and gave herself a two-minute scrub under the steaming needles of water, then hurried, towel-wrapped, into her room for fresh clothes. Cleo’s and Justin’s voices floating up the stairwell, cosy and warm as they talked to their children. Most of the time, she envied them their family life. But, right now, they could keep it. It was exhausting and smelly.

From the bathroom, her phone began to ring. Swearing, she shifted into reverse and went back to fling up the lid on the wash basket and delve for it in the pocket of her jeans. ‘Yes?’ breathlessly.

‘It’s Dominic. Change of plan – BBC Radio Cambridgeshire has a cancellation and can get us on Morning with Rebeccah Stillwater tomorrow, which works really well as it’s your day off, so we need to be in the Cambridge studio by eleven. Which means we need to have our first planning meeting tonight.’

‘Isn’t it a bit previous, to get on the radio? We’ll jinx ourselves if we do it before you’ve signed the lease. And I’m sleeping tonight,’ she added, firmly, stifling yawns as she whizzed back to her room, opened a drawer and grabbed clean underwear.

‘It’s never too early. I’m creating buzz. There’s no such thing as a jinx.’ A pause. ‘I meant the evening.’

‘So did I,’ she agreed, quickly, glad he couldn’t see her face heat up at the idea of him being involved with her night. ‘But I’m out on my feet and – um, OK, I suppose you know how that feels.’ She pulled fresh jeans off a hanger, awkwardly, with one hand, glancing at her watch.
Eek!
If she didn’t get dressed and leave
now
, her first client would be waiting for her. That was a discourtesy she never allowed to happen. The fastest way to get to her client was to get Dominic off the phone and the fastest way to get Dominic off the phone was to agree with him. ‘I finish at nine. Meet you at The Three Fishes.’ Ending the call and dressing as fast as a fireman, she sniffed down her top to check for parfum de sick and ran for the front door, calling to Cleo and Justin, ‘Glad you had a great time, give the kids my kisses, some of their clothes are up in the spare room, just shut the door when you go and it’ll lock.’

‘Kids, mess, and my sister rushing off,’ she heard her sister observe, before the door slammed. ‘Back to Earth.’

By nine, Liza’s eyes felt as if they’d been dipped in egg and rolled in crushed biscuit. She hadn’t had a break from clients all day, which would normally be a cause for celebration. But,
ohhh
, she was
tired
.

The last to leave, she set the alarm and locked the door to The Stables by the light from the security lamp, hunching against the wind, and blearily drove her little car to The Three Fishes. Inside, she spotted Dominic lounging at a corner table with a pad, a pen and a pint of dark beer, and dropped into the empty chair. She waved to Janice, behind the bar. ‘I need coffee or I’ll pass out.’

‘Poor thing.’ Janice pushed a tall white mug into the front of the coffee machine.

Dominic frowned. ‘What’s up?’

Folding her arms on the table, Liza propped her chin on them and tried to keep her eyelids up. ‘Tired. Beyond tired. I looked after Shona and Gus. Gus thinks sleep’s a waste of time.’

He smiled, faintly. ‘I agree with him.’

‘Suppose,’ she sighed. ‘You often feel that if you don’t get sleep in the next few minutes you’ll just fall down, don’t you? I’m beginning to empathise.’

‘I do fall down, occasionally. Here’s your coffee.’

With a groan, Liza levered herself up and folded her hands around the hot mug that Janice deposited before her. Fixing her eyes owlishly on Dominic, she made herself concentrate as he began to talk about The Stables, tapping his pad and making little ticks as he covered each subject, rent first. ‘This is the figure I suggest, if I can get Nicolas down to something halfway between what I want to pay and what he wants me to.’

She knew the total of what the therapists currently paid Nicolas, and what Dominic needed from her was a shade less. ‘I can make that,’ she said, half-surprised that his earlier forecasts hadn’t proved to be ridiculously optimistic. She tried to listen as she sipped coffee and he rattled on about radio, local press, free press, newsletters, website, Facebook, Twitter, and when he hoped to take over the lease. ‘I’ve asked Nicolas for a meeting to renegotiate the premium, but he hasn’t got back to me yet. Then it should be all systems go.’

She nodded.

His eyes were on her. ‘You’re exhausted.’

She nodded again.

‘You’re not concentrating.’

She shook her head. Then nodded, unsure which was appropriate.

He drained his glass. ‘Come on. I’ll see you home.’

‘Got my car.’

‘You drive, I’ll pinch you to make sure you stay awake.’

‘But then you’ll have to—’

‘—walk home to my new flat! For all of ten minutes, yes.’

‘So where’s—?’ She had to break off to yawn.

‘I’ve rented a place in Bankside.’ He hooked his arm under hers and steered her out to her car. In a few minutes they were drawing up outside number 7, Liza still yawning.

Once he’d checked she could steer her key safely into the lock of her front door, he made arrangements for the radio interview. ‘Kenny will be there, too, to show everyone that we have all the expertise we need. He can drive us in the Jag.’

She yawned. ‘’Kay.’

He kissed her lightly on her forehead. ‘Go to bed.’

And her fatigue fled for a second as she got a flash image of her bed – him in it, hair tousled, hard, naked body gleaming as he moved against her, inside her. His hands. Tongue. Heat flickered.

As if she were transmitting her thoughts, he paused. His palm brushed her cheek, gentle as breath. Then he kissed the corner of her mouth. And, for an instant, caught her lower lip gently between his teeth.

‘We’re going to be able to do this, aren’t we?’ she asked, hoarsely.

‘What?’

She swallowed. ‘Work together. Without … stuff getting in the way.’

Slowly, he withdrew. ‘We both have dreams to make come true, remember? We’re adults. We can cope with “stuff”. “Stuff” happens and—’

‘And goes wrong.’

‘If you say so.’ He retreated another step. ‘Let’s keep the focus on realising dreams. See you tomorrow.’

The village was still as Dominic strode towards Bankside past the eclectic mix of houses that had grown up in Port Road over a couple of centuries.

The new flat was in chaos, but as soon as the beds had been delivered Dominic had moved into the capacious master bedroom, Kenny into the cell-like spare, though Ethan had cried because Dommynic wasn’t to live at his house any more. It was good to be in his own place again, but to reassure Ethan that Dommynic wasn’t dropping out of his life, he’d call in tomorrow when he walked Crosswind before the radio interview.

With Liza.

He tried to concentrate. Promotion, organisation, administration. Nearing his goal was energising him, driving him, making it easier to accept the infuriating need to take naps and keep to his routines. And, most of the time, that Liza was out of bounds even though, minutes ago, her nearness had grabbed him by the groin and demanded that he kiss her mouth, dizzy from wanting it so much.

He crossed the road, passing houses in darkness or lit only upstairs, and turned into Ladies Lane. A dog barked, a car rumbled, its headlights sweeping over him. Liza. Smelling of coffee. Eyes fatigued, blonde hair flipping as she moved her head. He’d been on the brink of kissing her deeply, his carefully evolving business plans vanishing from his mind at the need to feel his body wrap around hers. Her shape was so right. Just right. For a lustful moment, he’d let himself think about them climbing the stairs to her bed.

But, even in exhaustion, her lust radar had bleeped, as if triggered by a sensor on the front of his boxers, and she’d warned him off.

He turned left, between the last two stone houses and into the modern brick, appropriately named, New Road that opened into Bankside. It was like stepping into a different world, a Narnia of symmetry and tidy blocks of houses all of the same design.

Well, OK. Liza obviously needed absolute reassurance that their relationship was going to be a working one, unsullied by blazing attraction or red-hot sex.

Turning into Great Hill Road, he hopped the wall into the Copse Corner Court car park, passing the dark hulk of the Jag, fishing out his new keys.

So, obviously, the only way forward was to keep everything strictly business.

Strictly.

Business.

For now.