Daniel opened his eyes, stared at the compact, concentrated focus of silver and gold explosions as they spat and crackled, then settled into a familiar, silent, yellow and blue flame, a wavering teardrop of hot gas and fire.
And then he lit his cigarette.
Daniel drew deeply on the nicotine, The powerful drug coursed through his system instantaneously. He looked at his hand holding the cigarette, at the red-and-white tablecloth beyond, and smiled. Nothing had changed; he was still sitting on the patio at the open-air taverna, and all was right with the world. There was still no sign of the mysterious Berry, but now that Daniel had satisfied himself he was not about to be shot back to his other life, whatever and wherever that was, he was content to sit there and enjoy his surroundings.
With his vision restored he was able to study the menu more carefully. He was attempting to decipher the prices when his concentration was interrupted by a noise from the taverna. He looked up to see a now familiar figure.
‘Hello, Mister,’ came the voice of the waiter from the doorway. ‘This Berry, man who belong taverna.’ Daniel looked up to see a tall, slender, handsome man with deep-blue eyes and light-brown hair. The man reached out his hand towards Daniel and smiled.
‘Hi,’ said the man, in an unimistakably American accent. ‘I’m Barry.’
Ever the Englishman abroad, Daniel stood abruptly and held out his hand. Whether or not his swift movement was to blame Daniel did not know, but for a second, just before the two hands came into contact, Daniel experienced a brief dizzy spell. Everything around him started to soften at the edges, to become blurred. He had a strong sense that time was slowing down, as if he were caught in a slow-motion playback of a real-time event, and as he looked around for some sort of confirmation of this, he noticed that everything - the tables, chairs, vines - looked pale and translucent, as if they might disappear at any moment.
In a moment of insight Daniel knew that if he touched this man’s hand everything would fade away, that he would lose his dream, that he would be thrown back to reality.
But it was too late to do anything about it.
As they clasped hands, everything in the taverna dissolved into a misty haze,.Daniel fixed his eyes on Barry’s face, and had just enough time to call out, ‘I’ll be back...’ before blackness descended.
Daniel awoke in a panic. He opened his eyes but found only darkness. He fumbled anxiously for the light-switch, his heart beating furiously. The white taverna had disappeared, as had Barry and the waiter. He was in his bed, in his room, in London. His breathing was deep and rapid.
‘Dan? What is it? What’s wrong?’ Lisanne was sitting up, squinting uncomfortably.
‘Uh... nothing,’ said Daniel. He was thoroughly disoriented and confused, but sensed that it was important not to alarm Lisanne. ‘It’s okay, love, nothing at all. Bad dream. Sorry I woke you.’ He leant across and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then turned the light off immediately, to assure her that there really was no need to worry.
But Lisanne was not so easily mollified. On many occasions in the past few months she had been woken in the night to find her once calm and contented husband in distress. In fact, his torment was often so advanced that for several minutes after waking, despite her greatest efforts, he remained inconsolable. Admittedly, it was a couple of weeks since he had had a truly bad attack, but other occasions were still too fresh in her mind to allow her to dismiss his claims so easily. She also knew that to show any indication of panic was to court trouble.
Timing her moves carefully, she paused, then reached out and gently ruffled his hair. She then waited a further few moments before speaking so that it would not sound as if she were panicked or being pushy.
‘Are you sure you’re okay, Dan?’ she whispered, her tone even and calm. ‘We can talk if you like.’
‘I’m fine, really. It’s just the same old nightmare,’ said Daniel, hoping to reassure her. ‘Go back to sleep.’
Lisanne hesitated, She did not want to pry; she had leamt that, since the accident, if Daniel was in one of his uncommunicative moods, pushing him to talk would only aggravate him.
‘Well, if you’re sure...’
‘Just a silly old dream, Lisanne. Please don’t worry.’ Daniel leant over once more and gave her a kiss. ‘Now go to sleep or else you’ll be a wreck in the morning.’
Lisanne bit down gently on her lower lip to stop herself from prying further. She turned on her side and repeated a now familiar mantra to herself several times in order to stay calm: ‘He’s safe and fine and all is well, he’s safe and fine and all is well, he’s safe and fine and all is well... Over and over she repeated the words, silently in her head, an exercise in hope, a prayer for the living.
She could not now remember when she had first started using the repetitions, but she knew that at times like these it was the only way she could stop herself fretting. ‘He’s safe and fine and all is well,’ she said again, hoping that whatever magic was contained within these few simple words was working at full power. In the morning she would have forgotten all about this; in the mad rush to get up, get dressed and go to work, the disturbance of the night would fade into insignificance. But in the meantime, Daniel, his fears, worries and concerns preoccupied her. Even his dreams, it seemed, had become her responsibility.
Certain that she would get nothing more in the way of explanation that night, Lisanne stroked Daniel’s cheek once more. Then, with a whispered “Goodnight”, she turned over, sighed silently, and prayed that sleep would come quickly, so that she would not have to spend the night fretting and worrying like an old fool.
Daniel did not know why he had lied to Lisanne. He had long ago told her the contents of his regular, nightly roller-coaster ride, had explained what it felt like being forced to turn somersaults in an endless procession, about the forces which slammed him up against the walls, only to peel him off, roll him up and send him spinning over and over yet again to meet the same fate against another immovable object. He had not shied from describing in detail the experiences of his terrifying nightmare, despite the fact that it could only unsettle her.
So why did he now keep secret from her the extraordinary contents of these new dreams? Twice running he had travelled somewhere new in his dreams, but he was loth so much as to suggest that anything had changed in his nightly excursions. And it was not because he did not want to bother her. His decision was much more deliberate, much more active than that. This new dream was something different, something special, and he did not want to share it with her.
Daniel waited quietly until he heard the reassuring sound of Lisanne’s deep breathing, indicating that she had fallen asleep, and, satisfied that she was not about to wake, settled down once more.
He waited patiently to be drawn back into sleep, trying to keep his mind clear of his troubles and confusions so that his descent would be swift and easy, but the sound of the bouzouki in his head kept him awake for hours, and it was not until the first glimmer of dawn crept through the gap between the curtains that Daniel slipped peacefully into unconsciousness.
Chapter 4
At ten, Daniel awoke for the second time. He vaguely recalled having woken in the night, but could not remember why. He knew he had woken Lisanne, but could not recall anything else about the disturbance. Had it been his usual nightmare? He thought not. Once again he had woken with his head clear, his body cool and dry, free of the black thirst that usually plagued him after a night’s sleep. He looked at the ceiling, searching for clues, his concentration distracted momentarily by half-remembered visions of Mediterranean vistas. Just a dream, he said to himself, just a dream.
On the kitchen table was a note from Lisanne, reminding him of his appointment with Dr Fischer. Great, thought Daniel, just what I need. He considered the possibility of telephoning Fischer and making some excuse, but he knew that Lisanne would be upset if he missed his appointment. Fischer was, after all, a great family friend, a pillar of the community and a rock of ag
es in these troubled times. Such a pity, then, that he doled out the sort of healthcare treatment that Noah (or, indeed, any one of his animals) might have expected on emerging from the ark.
Daniel had to steel himself for the visit in the only way he knew how. But at ten in the morning, not surprisingly, the scotch went straight to his head, and he arrived at the surgery half an hour late having taken several wrong turnings along the way.
Daniel entered the surgery and sat down in the black, cracked-leather chair facing the doctor. He looked around him at the familiar, dowdy room, with its antiseptic smell and ageing wallpaper, and then at Dr Fischer, who, Daniel noted with some concern, appeared, like the wallpaper, to be yellowing and peeling at the edges.
‘So, how are you feeling, Daniel?’ croaked Dr Fischer, peering over the antique pince-nez balanced precariously on his bulbous nose, its intricate web of capillaries spreading out across its surface like a road map of the home counties.
‘Okay,’ said Daniel, who had learnt of late to be as non-committal as possible; every admission, he had realised, seemed to land him with another prescription for yet more drugs to throw down his throat, this being Fischer’s first line of attack: redemption through chemistry.
‘I see,’ said the doctor, who had grown familiar with Daniel’s unhelpful attitude. ‘And how are you sleeping?’
‘The same as ever,’ replied Daniel. ‘I have yet to enjoy a complete, restful night’s sleep.’
‘I see,’ repeated the doctor, with a nod. ‘And are you still taking the sleeping tablets?’
‘Yes,’ lied Daniel. Any attempt to thwart Fischer”s regimen would only end in tears.
‘And, in view of their qualified success, do you suppose you could manage without them? Barbiturates are addictive you know; we don’t want to turn you into a junkie, do we?’ Dr Fischer gave a little, stifled laugh, as if he had made a joke.
Daniel forced a smile. ‘I could manage without the sleeping tablets, yes.’
‘Good. We’ll keep you on those anti-depressants for a bit longer so that you don’t suffer from complete withdrawal, eh?’ Daniel thought he saw the doctor smirk, but did not respond. ‘Now then, are you still having problems with the fainting?’
Daniel bristled. ‘It only happened that one time, Doctor; I’m sure it was an isolated incident.’ Why did Fischer always have to bring that up? It was a one-off, a feeble swoon across the counter of his local newsagent’s. Nothing to make a fuss about.
‘Quite possibly. As I think l explained, some of the medication tends to lower the blood pressure a little. Now then, up on your feet. Right, now walk towards me swiftly and then about-turn a hundred and eighty degrees.’
Daniel sighed noisily; he hated these absurd tests, and the way Fischer treated him like a six-year-old.
‘Come along, Daniel,’ said Fischer, standing slowly. ‘It’s just to check your balance.’
Daniel did as the doctor requested. He could not help but resent all these investigations into his state of health and mind. He knew the doctor was there to help him, but it all seemed somehow invidious, prying where it was not welcome.
And what good did it do? What good did any of it do? Had Fischer cured him of his depression? No. Had he given him hope? Instilled some sort of optimism? No again. What did he honestly hope to achieve? Daniel was no New-Age mystic, but he knew one thing for sure: if you wanted to heal someone, the first thing you had to do was get them on your side, gain their trust, their respect. A patient has to believe the healer is capable of healing. If not, the whole process is a waste of time.
Daniel rose slowly, marched five paces towards the doctor, and turned on the spot.
‘How was that?’
‘No problem.’ lied Daniel, his head spinning a little. He knew the antidepressants made him prone to dizziness if he stood up too quickly, but he didn’t want to be taken off them. They could take away the blasted barbiturates that gave him the dreadful hangovers, but the anti-depressants were a godsend on the occasional days when things got tough.
The doctor scribbled erratically on a pad of prescriptions, folded the piece of paper in two and placed it deliberately to one side of the desk. He clasped his elephant-hide hands together, and leant forward.
‘Daniel, I have to tell you that I’m a bit unhappy about your progress.’ Oh shit, thought Daniel. The pep talk. Must be that time of the month. ’I know you’ve had a nasty experience...’
‘Nasty?’ Daniel bit his tongue. There were all manner of things he would like to say to the good doctor, but he knew that for the sake of good relations, it was better that he kept quiet. Besides, any misbehaviour would only upset Lisanne, and he had done quite enough of that already.
Fischer paused, seeing the distress on Daniel’s face, and tried a different approach.
‘Well... perhaps that’s not quite right. But tragedy is an integral part of living, Daniel, and you can’t allow one incident to defeat you this way.’
Daniel shook his head in disbelief. ‘I can”t believe what you just said. Do you have any idea what I went through?’
‘Well, of course I can’t know exactly-’
‘That”s right,’ interrupted Daniel sharply, then, with a small sigh, apologised. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, ‘but you can’t know, Doctor. You just can’t.’
Dr Fischer drew a deep breath and nodded slowly. ‘Yes, well, even if that is the case, I do have some experience in these matters, and despite what you say, you can’t go on like this indefinitely. It’s been... let me see-’
‘Six months,’ interjected Daniel dryly, and gave a heavy sigh.
The doctor fixed him with a glare. ’Let me tell you something, Daniel. I’ve dealt with cases like this before, and others far worse...’
Oh God, thought Daniel, he’s going to say it again! Please don’t say it; please, please, please.
‘... and I can tell you that time heals all.’
Daniel closed his eyes and bit down on his lower lip. For Lisanne’s sake, for the sake of maintaining peace at the expense of his own feelings, he would not say what was uppermost in his mind; namely, that Fischer was a meddling old fool who should probably have been struck off years ago.
‘Thanks, Doc,’ he said, cringing. ‘You’re a brick.’
‘You’ll see, Daniel. You have so much to live for, so much to look forward to. You’re young, talented, you have a beautiful wife...’
‘Yes, thank you, Doctor; I’ve already counted my blessings once today.’
Fischer sighed. ‘Yes, well then, you presumably do not need an old fool like me to remind you.’
Daniel felt stung by this. Fischer was a meddlesome buffoon, but it was had not been his intention to insult the old man.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean-’
Fischer held up his hand. ‘No, no, no need. I like you Daniel, and as you know I’m very fond of Lisanne. I just don’t want to see you get bogged down in all this. And neither does Lisanne. I spoke to her just the other day-’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Daniel, leaning forward. ‘I appreciate that you’ve known Lisanne since she was in nappies, but I don’t think it’s right to bother her like that. She has a lot on her plate just now.’
‘Look, Daniel, I don’t want to be harsh, but you’re a bright man, and I’m distressed that you can’t pull yourself out of this hole. You can’t go on this way for ever. There’s only so much sympathy your friends and family are able to feel for you. The world keeps revolving, Daniel, and if you want a future, you’d better consider rejoining it as soon as possible. I’m sorry I have to be so direct...’
‘Don’t be,’ snapped Daniel. How he hated being patronised. So he was depressed. So he was making everyone’s life miserable. So what? It was no reason to be treated like a child. ‘Don’t be,’ he repeated, less aggressively.
The doctor sighed and nodded very slowly. He handed Daniel the prescription.
Daniel stood up and walked to the door. As he opened it, he turned to
face his examiner.
‘Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you, Doctor. I know you’re just doing your job, and I appreciate the help you’ve given me, only...’ He didn’t finish the sentence. He just shrugged, forced a smile, and closed the door behind him.
As he left the surgery, Daniel felt a drop of rain strike his face, He looked up into the grey skies and a feeling of great relief passed over him. He wouldn’t have to see the doctor again for two weeks; perhaps, he thought, as he sauntered along in the light rain, I may never have to see him again.
Back home, and all alone, Daniel sulked. Without doubt, one of the greatest impediments to his recovery had been his complete lack of interest in other people. Lisanne had attempted to bring him back to some nominal socialising by holding a couple of dinner parties for their closest friends, but these had been unmitigated disasters, during which Daniel had remained uncommunicative and bad-tempered. Everyone had been very understanding about it, but it was clear that they were not going to force themselves on Daniel. As both Janice and Vince (their closest friends) had said to Lisanne, he’d come round when he was ready.
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