Telling Dreams Page 2

  Back in our hotel room, as I showered and changed into a tee shirt and denims, I couldn’t help but wonder at what I had witnessed. I felt sure they were not partners or lovers. What hold had this older man over Daniel? Could they be related? As my Aunt had commented, they certainly didn’t look alike. I would let Aunt into this mysterious scene and trust her to decide what if anything we should try to find out further.

  Tea was Aunt’s favourite meal of the day. She loved bread and butter and homemade cake and scones; so the spread before us pleased her greatly.

  ‘Tuck in, Lou. Tuck in, before yours truly clears the lot! I had a lovely trip today, dear, but what an appetite it has left me with. I had a sandwich and a cup of tea in the Tea Rooms but these places can prove quite hard on the purse. You buy postcards and a guide book- seldom under a fiver- and then there’s the tip for the driver- oh, and the entrance fees-extortionate if you ask me.’ And so she ran on and I let her.

  Later, we sat in the television room for a while and Aunt took out her novel. I sat opposite the television screen in a dream. The T.V. had been turned down low but I hadn’t a clue what was on.

  We retired to our room until the evening meal. The rain outside was heavy now which meant no stroll to the local pub. Aunt loved pubs. She found people intriguing to watch but was never keen to go alone: so having me with her meant an extra treat.

  ‘Let’s take a drink at the hotel bar!’ I suggested and she quickly agreed. She also liked her favourite sherry tipple.

  After I had described to her the scene witnessed on the beach, she agreed with me that there must be some hold that the elder man had over the younger. It seemed that Mr Robson- she had found out their names at the reception desk- and Daniel were notably inseparable.

  ‘ That Mr Robson, reminds me of someone but I can’t put my finger on it, yet. Daniel is quite good looking eh, Lou? And he’s about your age.’ She teased. ‘I looked at his hands and could see no sign of a ring nor any discoloured skin where one might have been!’

  ‘Oh really, Aunt!’ I laughed but felt rather pleased at her observations.

  We were at the bar, glass in hand, whispering like two school girls.

  I looked up and saw Daniel arrive without Mr Robson.

  Before I could stop her, Aunt waved across to him.

  ‘Daniel, dear,’ she beckoned to him,’ do let us buy you a drink. You were so good on the coach yesterday- keeping everyone calm. You’re a natural with people. What is your line of work? Oh, and where’s your father this evening- not poorly I trust?’

  She really was incorrigible and quite obvious in her intention.

  He walked over and smiled, with a warm, sensuous mouth, first at Aunt and then down at me, sitting there on the lower bar stool. Those brown eyes held mine for some seconds. Aunt was right. He was a dreamboat!

  ‘How kind of you, Ladies. Mr Robson is my companion. He is not in the hotel tonight but has had to return and miss out on the rest of this, our vacation, unfortunately.’ His voice was clear, precise but not cold.

  ‘Really, what a shame,’ said Aunt putting some surprise mixed with relief in her voice. I knew her so well.

  We introduced ourselves properly then as Aunt expected people to do, despite it being out of fashion and were soon chatting away happily. He was easy to talk to and a good listener, especially with Aunt, who did tend to digress. He offered to buy us another drink but I noticed he merely drank tonic water. Aunt, forward as only the elderly can dare be, asked why he didn’t take alcohol. Had he a problem with it?

  He gave a soft chuckle at her suggestion and no doubt her guile. No, he replied. Alcohol just didn’t interest him.

  Aunt carried on quizzing him and he seemed to open up easily in our company.

  It seemed that Mr Robson had been his late father’s best friend and business associate. His mother had died on giving birth to a sibling and so tragically he had not known her for very long. He readily took a black and white photograph out of his wallet. We both commented at her beauty and her darkness. Aunt suggested that he was very like her and asked if they were of foreign blood.

  ‘Aunt, really!’ I interposed,’ you do ask some very personal questions at times.’

  But Daniel dismissed this, saying, ‘no worries. Grace, I may call you Grace?’

  That kind of courtesy appealed to her. ‘Of course and long may you do so!’

  ‘We are of Italian origin. Genoa. Do you know Italy either of you?’

  We jointly replied that sadly we did not.

  ‘Actually, neither do I,’ he confessed.’ I have never troubled to go back or search for family. I suppose it would have been very different if my mother had lived.’

  ‘Yes. Oh yes, indeed, but how sad for you. You sound quite alone in the world. But there’s no need now we three have met!’

  He smiled and looked straight at me. My eyes were eager to meet his.

  ‘No, indeed’ he merely responded.

  Chapter 3

  I couldn’t sleep. It was no good. My body tossed and turned in the single bed and Aunt snored quietly in hers next to mine.

  I got up quietly and jumped into my denims and tee shirt. I didn’t bother with any underwear. Who would know?

  As I went downstairs, I could hear soft voices and realised the bar was still open. Possibly there was an extension.

  He was sitting alone on the bar stool, a glass in one hand, no doubt tonic, a paperback book in the other.

  Doubt filled my head. Should I quietly go back up to our room? Would I look forward to someone like him? It was too late. He looked up despite my soft tread and our eyes met again.

  ‘Come and join me, Louisa,’ he beckoned, ‘you know you want to!’ He smiled endearingly at this last phrase.

  I blushed. Me, blushing at 29! And of course I joined him.

  We didn’t talk long. We didn’t have much use for words.

  After about half an hour sitting together, me drinking white wine and he still on the same tonic, he took my hand. I willingly followed him to his room.

  It was on the third floor- no 319. He closed the door gently and we began to undress each other. My body ached for him. It seems his ached even more.

  His hands were slim, feminine but sure and forceful, his caresses like none I had experienced before. It was the most wonderful love making I had ever known.

  We lay and slept on, wrapped in each other’s arms until morning. I was awoken by his caress as he stroked me gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Louisa, should you go back to your room now, before Grace realises?’ he said. I knew he meant this so as not to cause her fear or alarm about my absence and nothing else by it. One night of love and I thought I just knew him so well!

  I quickly dressed. We did not kiss goodbye. I looked into his brown eyes and he smiled knowingly back. Words were useless; a waste of time; totally inadequate.

  I softly trod my way down the stairs to our joint room. I opened the door only to see her sitting upright I bed.

  She smiled at my blushes.

  ‘I am so glad for you, Lou,’ she sighed. ‘Take life by the throat darling. Don’t doubt or linger. Just enjoy it whilst you may.’

  Sweet Aunt. No one else could ever have said that to me and meant it so sincerely.

  I showered and got ready to go down for breakfast. It was the third day of our week in North Wales and today we moved on to Llandudno with a tour of Bedgerlert’s grave… the famous sheepdog that supposedly pined away as he sat by his master’s grave. As if I cared about a dog! Daniel would be on the coach. Daniel, who had loved me so intensely that night, after which I still throbbed from the memory of it and longed to look into the pools of his warm, trusting, brown eyes again and again. Daniel, Daniel. I was smitten like a teenager. I, I who had thought I could never allow myself to feel this way ever again and had sworn I would never be impulsive, or behave foolishly about any man from then onward.

  We went down to the dining room for our breakfast.

 
Daniel wasn’t there. We had all dutifully packed our suitcases before going down and watched them being stored into the belly of our coach. Maybe he had just skipped food, I half believed. But before we drew away, the courier who was to join us at this juncture, informed us that the other kind gentleman who had come to our rescue on the start of that journey, had had to leave. She joked that the two knights in shining armour, that she had heard all about, were both now gone, perhaps to save more damsels and gents in distress. Murmurs of ‘oh, what a shame’ and ‘I never did get to thank them’ were soon replaced with fidgeting at the individual air switches and putting up spare coats and light luggage securely on the racks.

  Aunt Grace took my hand and squeezed it, looking at me for some response.

  Like a teenager again, I fought back the tears of disappointment. Then I sat back in my aisle seat and sighed, resolving to put it down to experience.

  The sky was clear blue and the clouds were racing above us as we drove on. ‘A good day’s weather ahead of us folks’ declared the Courier cheerily. I felt as if a black cloud hung over me and me alone; heavy, weighing me down. It seemed I had made a fool of myself again and been taken in. Then I tried thinking as an adult should and reminded myself of the pleasure I had had in his arms and I would let nothing blot out that joyous memory; that reawakening within me and the realisation that I was alive again; albeit for only the one night. He had proved to me that I was still a sensual and desirable woman. I would be thankful for that. I would never lose that memory. I would keep it and still move on.

  We stopped at a gift shop at pretty Bedgelert and Aunt alighted with me, despite the sudden shower. She wanted to buy some wool and wool shops were going out of fashion. This one had barrels of wool of all colours and thickness and she was overjoyed and eager to buy as much as she could. Several of us went into the shop if only to stretch our legs and have somewhere to dive into out of the rain. As we opened the door, an old fashioned bell hanging behind it announced our arrival. There were four people already in there and they must have been Welsh. Talk ceased as we perused the shelves of gifts and the postcards. No one, excepting Aunt, spent much due to the blatant atmosphere of animosity.

  We were indeed in true Welsh country and noticed that the road signs now carried the Welsh lettering before any English. Next stop was lunch at Carnarvon and we felt more welcome there. I didn’t tell Aunt, although she may well have guessed by now, we were that attuned, but I could not wait for this holiday to be over and to be back home.

  The hotel at Llangollen was bigger than the last one and our room looked out to sea.

  Mixed feelings now surfaced, as although I preferred the view, the sound of the sea lapping against the shore from our open window, made tears hard to keep in check, and the sea seemed to beckon me to go home.

  Home again then and Monday would see me begin the search for work. I decided anything would do to get me back into working and occupation. I didn’t need the money quite so drastically yet, but I did need the mental stimulation and the chance of some new company. I didn’t want too much time to think and although Aunt made no comment, as if she awaited mine first, I could sense her unease and her concern. I didn’t want to talk about it; the holiday, my feelings or anything else.

  Gina, my one time work colleague, phoned to say she and Vivenne had been invited to stop in Brighton for a few days. She asked if I had enjoyed the break away and I cut her short saying it was okay but not worth talking about. When she offered me a place with them as a threesome, I decided to accept. I needed to be with people but people who didn’t know what had happened. I needed to be away from Aunt and her obvious association with what had happened.

  I packed a small holdall and I didn’t even let her know I was going. On reflection, it was selfish of me but I couldn’t cope with any more questions or kind and caring looks from her. She so wanted me to say something and I so didn’t want to.

  So I was off away again. Not running away. There was no one there to run from except Aunt. The three of us spent our time clubbing and drinking too much. We lingered in the Laines, spent spare cash on the pier’s machines and for a brief spell it did me good.

  But I had to come back. And when I did it was to hear that Aunt had been taken into hospital. Her neighbour declared how surprised she had been to find that Grace couldn’t reach me and how she had met no reply from ringing my door bell. That faithful old friend Guilt swept in and almost overwhelmed me but I went straight to the hospital to see her.

  Typically, Aunt had only smiles for me and no criticism. At times like these, I wished she had been my Mother. But would a Mother have understood my actions and not criticised me openly? I doubted it.

  Aunt was very pale and had a viral infection. She was being kept in for observation and to investigate some dizzy spells she had suffered. She had fallen down but not broken anything, thank goodness.

  After I had sat with her a mere ten minutes, she had perked up and suddenly asked for her handbag from out of her bedside cabinet.

  ‘Lou!’ she said excitedly’ before I forget… this came for you care of my address.’

  I took it from her. It was dated a week ago. I didn’t open it there and then and tried not to show any surprise at it. I didn’t recognise the handwriting or the post office mark. I would open it on my return but for now Aunt and her needs were uppermost in my mind.

  I stayed with her until 7pm, when she finally admitted to a need of some sleep. I walked home clutching the letter in my pocket. It was from Daniel and I cried with relief and then laughed with sheer joy.

  His letter was written two days after we have moved on to our next port of call on the touring holiday and had been forwarded by the hotel to Aunt’s address. It was on plain Basildon bond paper and the handwriting was straight and tall, no fancy lettering and written with some speed I would guess:

  ‘Dear Louisa,

  Forgive my haste in leaving but events occurred that left me with no choice but to follow Mr Robson. I trust this letter will reach you in good time c/o your charming Aunt. The Receptionist at the hotel was easily persuaded to give me her address. I gather the booking was in her name anyway.

  Please, my darling, don’t think that what we had that night was something I could just let happen and move on from. I have never known such a beautiful, responsive woman and I don’t want that one night to be the only one we share.

  Trust me please. I shall contact you again as soon as events allow me to do so.

  I am being honest with you if not totally open. Maybe one day I can be both.

  I want very much to be both and I am bold enough to believe that you too feel this bond now between us that cannot be broken.

  I close here sadly as in some haste, wanting you and determined to see you again soonest.

  Daniel

  How many times I re read those words and took out that letter which I kept in my purse! It grew crumpled and a little smeared as the weeks passed by. I would treasure it for ever, whatever the outcome.

  Aunt soon returned to her modest flat and happily I found part time employment at a call centre quite close by.

  Then the dreams began.

  Often, as a child, on waking in the mornings, I believed I could see a figure standing at the end of my bed. My parents dismissed this as mere fancy and an only child’s vivid imagination. I described the figure as a mere featureless silhouette of a woman wearing her hair piled high, dressed in seemingly old fashioned jacket and long skirt. She never looked at me but I would watch her glide away towards the bedroom door and disappear. I tried leaving the door ajar and still she came and went in the same fashion. It never scared me but merely left me feeling curious as to the meaning. I knew that despite what the adults said, I had seen her. This went on for a week or so and then would stop for months. Then she would come back and the pattern would be repeated.

  Once I had reached my teens I didn’t see her again for three or more years. However, after leaving home to be independent, as n
ow, she returned. Maybe I did conjure her up from nowhere out of loneliness. That would be one explanation, as I could see no reason for her appearance. On the nights that my ex, Robert, had stopped over in my bed, still she appeared. I would wake and he would still be asleep or had left me sleeping. He never saw anything and when I asked him he joked that it must be my own personal ghost.

  It was only Aunt who would listen and believe me when I told her about it.

  In this dream, it was dusk and I was taking a walk through a pine forest. It wasn’t anywhere I could recall walking in before. I had always found walking therapeutic and was not alarmed to find myself there. The forest was full of tall pine trees and my sneakers crunched over their fallen needles and the wooden debris at my feet. Crushed there, the air was fresh with their scent.

  Oddly, I could hear no other sounds - no birdsong or distant cars, only the sighing of the wind and the rustle of the swaying trees around me. Suddenly a mist came swirling down through the trees like white ribbons, veiling my view ahead. My heart began to beat faster and I now realised I wasn’t sure of the way and grew anxious where before I hadn’t thought about where I was or why. Now I began to wonder why I had come this far and alone. I couldn’t remember deciding to come here and where was here?

  The palms of my hands grew damp with the sweat of anxiety. I walked on, not sure which direction I was taking but now fearful of standing still. The mist had begun to chill me and I wished I had brought a heavier jacket than the denim I was wearing.

  Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,

  Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?

  Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!

  Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.

  A woman’s voice softly sung out these words as if from nowhere. God, where had that come from? In my ears I could now hear my own heart thumping loudly in my chest. I stopped still and looked around me. ‘Who’s there ? Is there someone there?’ I called out.

  The soft voice sang again, barely audible now but for the quiet of the wood around me.