Daniel's Dream (27 page)

‘But I’m sure they would - find a new home that is. Think of all those empty shells lying around on the sea bed.’

Daniel nodded sadly. ‘I suppose so. But moving from one to the next is very tricky. For that short period they’re completely naked and exposed. It’s very dangerous if any predators are looking on. I suspect they’re rather soft and succulent without their clothes on.’

He grinned, expecting Véronique to pick up on the silly allusion, but she only looked down glumly.

‘It seems rather sad that they should have to wear hand-me-downs, Do you know, right up until my teenage years I had to wear Marianne’s old clothes - she’s just a year older than I am - and I hated her for it. For years I made her the scapegoat for all my problems, if I wasn’t getting on well at school, if I didn’t have any friends, if  I was sad or unhappy, it was all her fault, all because I had to wear her stupid old clothes.’

‘Ah,’ said Daniel, remembering their little spat from the previous evening. ‘And do you still blame her for everything?’

‘Marianne? No, not any more. Despite what you might think, Marianne is an angel. I love her more than you can imagine.’ 

Daniel was a little unnerved by this sudden seriousness, which seemed out of keeping with Véronique’s usual mood. Clearly there were matters of considerable import concerning her relationship with her sister, things which evidently mattered deeply to her, but rather than pry he decided to leave well alone. If there was something he should know, he had no doubt she would tell him about it in due course.

‘I suppose they could always hide for a while,’ she said, as the hemiit crab scuttled off across the beach, heading for a large pile of black rocks ahead of them. ‘If they were squeezed out of their home, I mean. Until they found another one.’ She smiled, a touch sadly, and clasped Daniel’s arm tightly. ‘Come on. Race you back to the taverna!’ And before Daniel had time to answer, Véronique had shoved him away and was sprinting back towards the village.

By the time they reached the Neraida they were both exhausted and thirsty. They found a table in the shade overlooking the water, ordered hot coffee and bread from the ever-present Vangeli, and sat silently for a while, enjoying the view, the peace and the quiet. Daniel was struck by how familiar everything now seemed: the beach, the taverna, the particular aroma of the coffee.

But there was more, something else, something not directly connected with his surroundings that made him feel comfortable and at ease. For a moment the sensation wavered about him in the air, like heat haze, and he could not pin it down.

Then suddenly it was clear. Wasn’t this exactly the way he had felt all those years ago when he first met Lisanne? That intense sensation of desire and longing: a sensation that was simultaneously deeply pleasurable and achingly painful, torn between want and wanting, with the mind ever eager but the body bereft? And that wonderful, bubbling excitement that threatened to overflow every now and then, especially when he looked at Véronique, studied her closely or caught sight of some previously unrecorded movement or mannerism.

Yes, it was always that way with love when it was new. Or lust, perhaps. Either way, Daniel could not help but recognise the feelings and, even though in the waking world he would also have had to contend with other responses - not least guilt - here in his dreams he felt free to enjoy whatever experience came his way.

This wasn’t the way it had been with Alex. Even at its most intense, his short-lived affair with Alex was, by definition, shrouded in guilt and sinfulness. It was wrong, and he had known it was wrong, though that knowledge did not prevent him from getting involved. But there was no reason - at least, none that he could fathom - to feel guilty in these circumstances.

There were, however, other emotions at play, including something completely new, an emotion which, to the best of his knowledge, had no equivalent in his waking life. Daniel was, by his own admission, in love or in lust or infatuated - it wasn’t important which - with a woman called Véronique, who to all intents and purposes did not exist. If he was prepared to consider his predicament, he had to face the fact that he had fallen for a vision, a fantasy, something that could not extend beyond the boundaries of the impermanent, evanescent territory of sleep. Like the crazy old drunk he had seen on the Underground, he was communing with someone no one else could see, who wasn’t really there.

There could be no ‘future’ to this relationship, nowhere for it to go, no way for it to exist in any state other than this, this dream, with all its incumbent attributes and peculiarities, that, though it mimicked real life, was not, and could never be, real.

And Daniel had absolutely no idea how to handle that.

‘What are you thinking?’

Daniel looked at Véronique and shrugged. ‘Nothing much. What about you?’

She reached across the table and took Daniel’s hand. ‘I was just thinking how happy I am, how happy you’ve made me.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Can’t you tell?’ 

Daniel shrugged again. ‘Sure, only...’

He broke off. Did he dare bring ‘reality’ into this place, to introduce his queries and problems, all of which probably meant nothing here: questions without answers, problems without solutions? Did he dare risk breaking the spell that kept him here in order to satisfy his curiosity? Hadn’t Kate already warned him off once?

‘Daniel? What is it?’ 

He took a deep breath. ‘Why are you here, Véronique? I mean, what are you doing in Atheenaton?’

‘The same as you I expect.’

‘But that’s just it. I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, I don’t live here. This isn’t my home. I live in-’

‘Don’t Daniel. Don’t spoil it.’

‘Spoil it? How will I spoil it?’

Véronique frowned. ‘With questions, nnnecessary questions that can’t help you.’

‘It isn’t help I need. It’s answers.’

‘I think you’ll find you’re wrong, on both counts.’

Daniel shook his head. ‘Look, there are some things I just have to know, or else nothing makes sense. Is this a dream, Véronique? Am I dreaming you? Or is it the other way round? I mean, where do you come from? And Marianne? I mean, where have you-’ 

‘Daniel, please...’

‘But I just want to understand...’

‘You have to stop.’ Véronique withdrew her hand sharply. ‘There is no point in asking those sort of questions. They can do no good.’

‘But-’ 

‘No, wait. Listen to me, Daniel. Your questions have no relevance here; they barely have any meaning. They just can’t be answered.’

‘How do you know? How do you know that?’

‘Because I’ve been here longer than you.’

‘But surely-’

‘Oh Daniel, just stop, will you!’ 

Daniel was shocked by this outburst. He could see that Véronique was not merely upset; she was actually trembling.

‘Your questions have no meaning, Daniel. You want to pigeon-hole this place, to interpret it logically, to label it and handle it and... well it can’t be done. All those questions you have, ones that you expect must have answers, answers that someone is keeping from you. Lose them. Forget them. File them away with all those other imponderables like “What is the meaning of life?” and “Why are we here?” The only thing you really need to understand, Daniel, is that this place is real only as long as you believe it is real. Call it a dream if you like, or a vision... call it anything, but doubt its existence and it’ll disappear for you.’

Véronique was close to tears, and Daniel was deeply upset to see her in such a state.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, patting her hand and trying to calm her.

‘You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I came here, Daniel. I don’t want to lose you. Not yet.’ 

‘And I don’t want to lose you. I just... I would just like to have whatever level of understanding you possess about this place. It’s evidently enough to appease you.’

Véronique nodded. ‘It’ll come, Daniel. Don’t rush it.’

Daniel sighed. He gazed out over the glowing sand and the endless ocean. ‘I love this place,’ he said softly. ‘I hate it when I leave. And when I’m not here, all I can think about is coming back.’

He looked at Véronique, expecting some sort of confirmation of this, as if she should feel the same way, but she said nothing. She still looked tearful. Mindful of her mood, he none the less decided to push her on this point: surely she too missed Atheenaton when she wasn’t there?

Véronique shook here head. ‘My situation is different, Daniel.’

‘Different? How?’

‘I don’t ever have to miss Atheenaton, because I never have to leave. In fact, I can’t leave, Daniel. There’s nowhere for me to go. Atheenaton is my home.’

Daniel felt his mouth go dry. He struggled to get the words out.

‘But... but that’s fantastic. You’re here for good? I mean, you never have to leave? You’re here for ever?’ He shook his head, decidedly woozy all of a sudden. He had now stayed in Atheenaton for longer than ever before, and as he had stayed awake all night, watching Véronique doze, he suspected that he might shortly be returned to his waking life.

Véronique shook her head. ‘Not for ever. Nothing lasts for ever.’

Daniel frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Before she could answer, the edges of his vision became blurred, the sounds around him faded into silence, and suddenly everything was darkness.  

Daniel replaced the receiver and tried again. Still engaged. He lit a cigarette, paced up and down for two minutes, wandered into the kitchen, switched on the kettle for the sixth time that morning, returned to the living room, picked up the handset and dialled again.

No answer.

He held on. He started counting. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

He was still hanging on when it rang for the twentieth time. He slammed the handset down. He dialled again. Still no answer. Why am I doing this? he wondered, angered at his own obsessional behaviour. Why am I getting so irritated about making a blasted telephone call?

He wandered back into the kitchen. He was on edge now, pacing from room to room, unsure what to do with himself. Should he try Lisanne’s number again? How much of this could one person stand?  

In the kitchen he stood against the sink and gazed out of the window. It was a grey day, the cloud hanging thick and low over the rooftops of the terraced houses. A few people wandered gloomily along the streets, caught up in the routine convolutions of their everyday lives. Daniel sighed. Somewhere along the line he had lost touch with the familiar, the regular, the everyday. Now his life was like a badly edited movie, a minor example of fifties French New Wave, with the protagonists jump-cutting from one scene to the next, skipping erratically from one location to another without the usual ebb and flow, the comforting rhythms that gave life its seductive continuity.

To kill time, Daniel decided to make himself a cup of coffee. He felt dozy and befuddled, and hoped the caffeine might stir him from his lethargy. Measuring out a heaped teaspoon of instant coffee into a large green mug, he poured in the boiling water and stirred aggressively, well past the point where all the granules had dissolved. He added the milk and watched impatiently as it spiralled down into the murky brown.

And then, focusing intently on the swirling coffee, he tried to relax. What was the panic? Why the sudden urgency to talk to her now? He’d see her tonight, after all. If only she had answered the phone the first time, then there wouldn’t have been any problem; everything would have been okay. He would have stayed calm, reasonable. He would be behaving normally.

But now he was frantic. I have to tell her, thought Daniel. I have to tell her everything.

He grabbed the coffee and marched over to the telephone. He took a deep breath and dialled again. Engaged! What was this, some sort of plot? What had he ever done to offend British Telecom? He felt like dialling a number at random just for the satisfaction of actually getting through to someone.

He tried the operator instead. No one answered.

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. Periodically, he was sure, the cosmos singled you out for special consideration. It conspired against you, not out of malice or aggression - it was just one of those things. If you dared to rally against that contrivance, to defy it or take arms against it, you were asking for trouble.