Summer Night Dreams

by Alison May

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘And I love you.’

  Alex

  As the words left his lips, Alex closed his eyes. Shit. It was true wasn’t it? He loved her. He’d told himself he was doing Helen a favour. He’d thought it might be fun to have a little fling. He hadn’t even made it as far as the fling, and now he was in love. He’d been wondering why he hesitated to make his move when she’d been at his house. He’d been wondering why he’d been putting off calling the speed dating women. He’d been wondering why he’d started staying in and watching TV rather than going out on the pull, and he hadn’t had a clue until the words were out of his mouth. Alex was stupid. Stupid and in love.

  Emily hadn’t said anything, but she hadn’t run away either. Alex guessed that meant the ball was still in his court. He took a breath. ‘And I think you could love me. And I know you don’t love Dominic.’

  That must be true, mustn’t it? She’d have walked out by now if she did.

  ‘You don’t know that. I’m very fond of Dominic.’

  That confirmed it. ‘I do know that. Nobody under eighty says “very fond” and nobody, of any age, says they’re “very fond” of someone they want to shag senseless.’

  ‘There’s more to love than shagging each other senseless.’

  Alex grinned. ‘But it’s a really, really good start.’ He hadn’t won her over yet. He needed to do some ‘in love’ stuff. What did people in love do? ‘I could be a boyfriend. I could get a better job. I could get a house. We could go shopping for curtains and look at wallpaper samples.’ Alex’s ideas about long-term relationships were hazy, but he suspected they were heavy on DIY.

  She shook her head. ‘You’re all about living in the moment.’ But she sounded unsure, less angry than she had before.

  ‘But what’s a plan other than a series of moments?’ He stepped towards her. ‘And I’d do everything I could to make every single moment incredible.’

  He left the gap between them. This had to be her decision. She had to take the final pace. She stepped towards him and lifted her face. He pushed his lips against her, and felt her response. He’d expected her to be tentative, but as soon as their lips touched everything changed. Hands grasped at his belt. His were already tugging at her skirt, until it pulled up over her hips. She kicked her shoes into the corner and stood back from him, just long enough to drag her tights and knickers away and fling the ball into the corner, while he pulled a condom from his wallet and put it on. He pressed her backwards against the wall, and pulled one leg up against his hip, gripping her thigh. He pushed into her and felt her gasp against his neck. He thrust again, desperate to feel everything she could give him. Her fingers clung to his hair. Her breath pressed hot into his neck. He thrust again and again, quick and hard and urgent. They came close together, stickily, gleefully, ecstatically.

  Alex paused for a second. He pulled his head back slightly and found her lips again, kissing her more slowly, trying to tell her all the things he wasn’t sure how to put into words. Eventually he pulled back.

  Their eyes met. She giggled, as she pulled her skirt down.

  ‘Right.’ She stopped with her head bent forwards against his chest. Her hair smelt like wildflowers. He kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Alex stepped back and hauled his jeans and boxers back on, allowing Emily to squeeze past him and retrieve her underwear.

  ‘So what now?’ Alex asked the question as casually as he could manage.

  Emily leant back against the wall. ‘I need to talk to Dom.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She stepped towards the door, and then stopped. ‘You won’t tell anyone? About this?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘Not til you’ve talked to Dominic.’

  ‘Good.’ She looked around the room. ‘Our little secret then.’

  Alex nodded. ‘You go first. I’ll wait a minute before I come out.’

  Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘Not your first public toilet then?’

  Not his first public toilet, but maybe his last. He gazed into Emily’s face. So this was love. ‘You could stay a bit longer?’

  She looked around. ‘Here?’

  ‘No. Obviously. We could go somewhere.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I’m still with Dominic.’

  ‘But just for the time being?’

  She nodded, and then shook her head, and nodded again. ‘Yeah. I’ve got to go.’

  Emily

  I walk back to my office, convinced that everyone can tell. Sienna from main reception says ‘Hi,’ as I walk past and I jump three feet out of my skin. When I get back to my own corridor, Matt from estates stops me and tries to make chit chat about the weather or the football or the price of petrol or something. I don’t take a word of it in. I make my excuses, telling him I’m in a hurry.

  ‘That’s all right pet,’ he grins. ‘Be good! And if you can’t be good be careful!’

  Be careful? Oh god. Well at least he had a condom. I hear myself laughing as I think that. It could be worse. The laugh turns a bit hysterical. I run to my office, slam the door shut and sit down behind my desk. I pull my emergency chocolate bar from the back of the bottom drawer. This isn’t the everyday chocolate bar that I buy from the vending machine each lunchtime and kid myself I’m not going to eat until about half past three when I give up and inhale the whole thing. This is my emergency big bar of chocolate that only gets cracked open in times of extreme need. This is a time of extreme need.

  My hands are shaking as I unwrap the chocolate. This is what I do. I mess up. I break things. I push people away. Dom. He’s so good, and so right for me, and Alex is all wrong. Helen says he has a different woman every weekend. I’m a notch on his bed post, without the dignity of having made it as far as the bed.

  There’s a knock at the door. ‘Hold on a minute.’ I stuff the chocolate back in my drawer, and check my face in the mirror on my desk. It’s not too bad. I’m not actually crying, but I’m the brink of it. I can force myself to be business-like. I can check things on the computer for people. I can be Work Emily. ‘Come in.’

  It’s Dom. Everything stops. He takes the two paces from the door to the desk. I hold my breath. He’s going to be able to tell. Or maybe someone saw me coming out of the toilet. Or maybe Alex has already told him. Or maybe I stink of guilt. He smiles. ‘Just wanted to check you’re still on for dinner tonight?’

  I remind myself to breathe and blurt out an answer. ‘Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I said it was fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine?’ I’m babbling. I must stop talking.

  He laughs. ‘Okay. Okay. I thought you might be doing wedding stuff.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I’ll meet you at the restaurant.’

  Wait. No. I’m supposed to be meeting Helen later to go through the charade of sorting out costumes. I’m not going to have time to go home and then out again on the bus. ‘Can you pick me up at home?

  ‘Fine.’ We arrange a time. He leans across the desk and kisses me quickly before he goes. I start to relax. This is fine. I’ve bought some time to think. That’s all I need. I’ve got almost five hours before we go for dinner. That’s plenty of time to decide what I’m doing with the rest of my life.

  I pick up my bag and coat and catch the bus into town on autopilot. Five hours to think, and I spend the first twenty minutes in a daze. I go straight to the shop. The second I walk into the costume room I’m in love. I check with the girl before I start. ‘I can try anything on?’

  She nods. ‘Is it just you?’

  I tell her that Helen will be joining me.

  ‘I’ll send her up when she gets here.’ She gestures to the Aladdin’s cave of clothing rails. ‘In the meantime, yeah, try anything.’

  I can try anything on. For the next hour I can be anybody I like. Anyone other than myself. Sod making decisions about the future. I’m in a lovely dressing up box cocoon. I’m not Emi
ly the scarlet woman. In here I’m an astronaut, or a genie, anybody but me.

  Helen

  Helen pushed open the door of the costume hire shop. It was every bit as horrendous as she’d imagined. Plastics swords, plastic wigs, plastic masks of politicians – mainly of really out of date politicians. Thatcher, Reagan. There was a George W. Bush and a Barack Obama, but no Tony Blair or David Cameron. Recent Prime Ministers must have boring faces.

  A Myth and History costume party. The history bit sounded okay. Helen was wondering if she could go as a suffragette. She approached the girl behind the counter.

  ‘I’m here to get a costume for a party tomorrow. I’m supposed to be meeting my friend here.’

  The girl nodded. ‘Miss Midsomer is already upstairs.’ She pointed towards a stairway at the back of the shop. ‘All the medieval and Tudor costumes are out on the rack but you can try on whatever you like.’

  Helen headed up the stairs. As promised, Emily was already ensconced, standing with her back to the stairwell inspecting her outfit in the full-length mirror in front of her.

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  She spun around. ‘It’s called Sexy Pirate. What do you think?’

  It was tiny. ‘I’m not sure it’s very practical for the high seas. Actually, I’m not sure piracy is a particularly sexy occupation. It’s basically smuggling with interludes of kidnap and murder, and incredibly basic living conditions.’

  Emily pouted. ‘I like it.’

  ‘I’m not sure Dominic’ll like it.’ Of course Dominic wouldn’t like it. He’d prefer something with a bit of class, or wit to it. Helen took a breath. He was with Emily. It wasn’t up to Helen to say what he might like. ‘And maybe not for your dad’s party?’

  She shrugged, and started flicking through the clothes on the rails. There were actually some reasonably classy dresses once you worked your way past the sexy pirates and naughty nurses.

  ‘What about this?’ Emily held out what appeared to be a green suede bra and a pair of leather pants for Helen’s inspection.

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s historic.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s called Sexy Outlaw.’ Helen could picture Professor Midsomer’s face. She could picture her own face.

  ‘What are your dad and Tania wearing?’ Helen decided she needed a handle on the general tone of the evening before she started offering further fashion advice.

  ‘Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn.’

  Helen laughed. ‘Does she know what happened to Anne Boleyn?’

  Emily shrugged like a girl who couldn’t give a toss what happened to Anne Boleyn. ‘It’s only a costume.’

  ‘You know the theme?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well “historic” so I could go as a suffragette or Marie Curie?’ Helen suspected she already knew the answer to that. It was going to be pretty history only, wasn’t it?

  ‘I think it’s supposed to be more like Maid Marion and King Arthur and that.’

  Helen shook her head. It wasn’t even real history. Not even from one coherent myth construct. She went back to the rails. King Arthur she’d said, and here he was. King Arthur. Chainmail, crown, tabard, sword, the lot. Alex had already sorted his own outfit, but otherwise this would be an option, although it looked like it would be about four sizes too big for Alex. It wasn’t Alex she was picturing in the outfit anyway. It was Dominic. It was always Dominic. In this image he was on horseback, riding across fields in full armour, flag flying, just in time to rescue the damsel in distress. Well not rescue obviously. And not damsel. Probably not even distress. Whatever the problem is Helen was sure she could manage fine with it, so he’d be riding to meet up with the independent woman in mild, but ultimately manageable, inconvenience.

  She kept one hand on the King Arthur costume and flicked to the next costume on the rail. Guinevere. The dress was dark green velvet with a cream underskirt and gold stitching. Maybe she could get Alex to be King Arthur after all.

  ‘Wow!’ Emily grabbed the dress from Helen’s hand. ‘That’s gorgeous.’

  ‘It goes with this.’

  She held the King Arthur suit up for her to inspect.

  ‘Fantastic!’ She grinned.

  It didn’t look like Helen would get a shot at the dress then. That was fine. She was happy to let Emily have it. She usually let Emily have what she wanted. Sometimes she wondered if it was her way of over compensating for all the bad thoughts she had about her friend. Helen waved the chainmail. ‘I can see Dominic in this.’

  Emily nodded but didn’t answer. ‘What about Alex?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Emily’s eyes dropped to the floor. ‘Just wondered what he was going to wear.’

  Helen shrugged. ‘He’s already ordered something. Actually, I’m supposed to pick it up.’

  Helen ran downstairs to check Alex’s order. It was labelled as ‘Robin Hood style’ and seemed to consist of tunic and tights combo, complete with bow and arrow and also sword. At least he’d be well prepared if things at the party kicked off.

  She showed Emily the costume. ‘I suppose I should look for something Maid Marian-ish then, if I’m supposed to be his date.’

  Emily furrowed her brow. ‘You’re his date?’

  Helen laughed. ‘Only because neither of us could find a proper plus one.’

  ‘So it’s not like a date date?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Nah. That would involve Alex committing to spending the whole evening with one woman.’

  ‘And you don’t think people can change?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘Not Alex.’ Helen paused. ‘Why are we talking about him anyway?’

  Emily turned her back. ‘I don’t know. You started it.’

  Had Helen started it? She couldn’t remember. ‘So Robin Hood and Maid Marian for me and Alex. King Arthur and Guinevere for you and Dominic then?’

  Emily nodded. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘We’ll have to hope there’s no one dressed as Lancelot.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well Guinevere had an affair with ...’

  Emily turned around. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Helen peered at her friend. She was jumpy today. ‘Are you okay?’

  Emily nodded. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘No reason.’ Helen went back to looking through the racks.

  ‘Helen, can you do me a favour?’

  ‘Sure. What do you need?’

  She smiled. ‘It’s nothing major. I need you to collect something for me tomorrow afternoon and bring it to the party.’

  Dominic

  It was beginning to feel like a very long day. Dominic glanced at the clock and tried to refocus on the final candidate’s explanation of why he’d like to work here. It was a waste of time. His presentation had been dreadful. There was already no way this guy was getting the job. Dominic knew it. Mrs Addams knew it. Theo knew it. Dominic suspected that even the candidate knew it. Unfortunately, there was no socially acceptable way of everyone simply acknowledging the fact and agreeing to call a halt to the whole thing, so they asked their questions, took cursory notes on the answers and watched the clock. When Theo finally stood up to show the interviewee out Dominic closed his eyes for a second and leaned his head back between his shoulder blades to try to ease the tiredness in his neck.

  Theo came and sat back down. ‘Well a decent crop I thought.’

  Dominic nodded even though he didn’t agree. They were an average crop. It was going to come down to Dr Levine or Helen. Everyone already knew that but they ploughed through the interminable scoring and discussion of each candidate before admitting that out loud.

  By the time they officially agreed that it was between Dr Levine and Helen they were knackered. Dominic had scored Helen higher. Theo had scored Dr Levine higher, but not as high as Dominic scored Helen. Mrs Addams from Human Resources felt they were fairly evenly matched, and excused hers
elf to get back to her office. Apparently, she thought the academics could deal with the contentious bit.

  ‘Dr Levine’s presentation wasn’t as strong.’

  ‘But his research record is more substantial.’

  ‘Dr Hart was better on diversity.’

  Theo rolled his eyes.

  Dominic saw. ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘What does what mean?’ Both men were tired, irritable, and ready to be somewhere else.

  Dominic inhaled. ‘You don’t seem to place much importance on diversity and equality.’

  Theo shrugged. ‘It’s a teaching and research job. We should be concentrated on that.’

  ‘Fine.’ Dominic spat the word out. ‘Helen’s a stronger teacher.’

  ‘Dr Hart is a perfectly adequate teacher, but so is Dr Levine.’ Theo stood up. ‘Again, I can’t help but wonder if your judgment is being affected by your personal relationships.’

  ‘Is that why you gave her such a hard time?’

  Theo didn’t answer.

  Dominic paused. ‘They’re both friends. And I’m starting to wonder why you’re so hung up on my friendship with Helen?’

  ‘I’m not,’ Theo grimaced at the phrase, “hung-up” on your relationship with Dr Hart. I’m wondering whether you are.’

  This again. Dominic didn’t know what to say. There was no relationship. There never had been, at least not in the way Theo was implying. There’d been a moment, possibly, once, a very long time ago. Dominic stood up. ‘I think perhaps we’d better discuss this later.’

  Theo shook his head. ‘We need to discuss it now.’

  ‘Well if we add both our scores up, Helen wins. Nothing more to discuss.’

  ‘I think we have to weight teaching and research above all this box ticking.’

  Dominic reminded himself to hold his temper. He could imagine what Emily would say if he had to take time out from the wedding reception to argue with her Dad about academic appointment criteria. ‘It’s not box ticking. It’s widening participation.’