Daniel's Dream

by Peter Michael Rosenberg

  A moment later, they were joined by Marianne, who had descended the stairs that ran along the front of the taverna, her hair dripping wet, as if she had just emerged from the sea. She sat down next to Daniel, leant across and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘How nice to see you again,’ she said, her voice surprisingly harsh and strident. ‘But I wish you wouldn’t keep taking off all the time. Veronique was saying only this morning that we would never get to know you unless you stayed for more than a few hours. She thinks you’re being unsociable, but I know better.’ She smiled, reached for the carafe in the centre of the rickety wooden table and poured herself a glass of wine.

  Daniel smirked; he felt pleased that the girls had talked about him in his absence, especially Veronique.

  ‘And where is your sister?’ he asked as casually as possible, and noticed Kate’s conspiratorial grin, only half hidden by her wine glass.

  ‘She’ll be down shortly; she’s just showering,’ replied Mariarme, and then added, ‘You’re rather keen on her, aren’t you?’ so meaningfully that Daniel choked on his wine. He turned bright scarlet and spluttered nervously.

  ‘No, well, that is... I was just... you know... just friendly concern...’

  Kate’s crude, fruity laughter embarrassed him further.

  ‘Well, don’t worry,’ said Marianne, throwing Kate a sly glance. ‘She’ll be here shortly.’

  Marianne’s long, ink-black hair continued to drip water; several drops landed on her silk blouse to be instantly absorbed and the damp material clung to her like a second, lustrous skin. This sudden, tantalising moment caught Daniel by surprise, and despite himself he could not help gazing appreciatively at Marianne’s breasts.

  Fortunately, at that moment there was a sound at the top of the stairs, and Véronique appeared in the doorway. She came quietly down the stairs and walked across to the table. As she took her place opposite Daniel, all thoughts of Marianne filtered away into the ether.

  ‘So,’ she said huskily, t’he mysterious traveller returns.’

  ‘I was just saying,’ chipped in Marianne, ‘how you - that is, we - had missed Daniel. I don’t think he believes me though, do you?’ She eyed Daniel up and down suggestively, making him feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Of course I do,’ he said as nonchalantly as possible, then addressed Veronique. ‘How are you?’

  ‘She’ll say “fine”, Daniel, but don’t be fooled,’ said Marianne. ‘Ever since you disappeared she’s been wandering aroimd like a puppy that’s lost its mother, haven’t you, dear?’ Marianne turned towards her sister and smiled.

  Veronique glared at her sister; a look, thought Daniel, that although not lethal was probably capable of causing a severe flesh wound.

  ‘How about some more wine then?’ said Marianne coolly. Daniel smiled uncomfortably and gave a small, nervous nod of assent; clearly Marianne was not a woman to fool around with.

  It was Kostas who responded to the call for more wine. He appeared mysteriously from some dark corner of the taverna, large carafe in hand, which he set on the table with a flourish before patting Daniel firmly on the back.

  ‘So, you have come to see me dance?’ said Kostas, evidently delighted to see Daniel again.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ agreed Daniel, seizing the opportunity provided by Kostas’s arrival to deflect attention away from the two petulant sisters. ‘But when do we see you? Do you have to wait on tables all night?’

  ‘No, no,’ laughed Kostas. ‘This is just a... how do you say... a disguise.’ He guffawed at his own joke, which was just as well, as it helped defuse the dark, acidulated atmosphere around the table. ‘In a little while you will see me. But first, we drink a little retsina together, yes?’

  Daniel poured out a glass for Kostas, and they toasted the evening. ‘Yamas!’ said Kostas, raising his glass to his lips. The others repeated the toast, and downed their glasses in one.

  ‘And again!’ said Kostas, grabbing the bottle and refilling the glasses. ‘On a night like this, we must get drunk!’

  And in the absence of any alternatives, and with no one finding reason to object, it seemed a perfectly sound idea.

  Daniel had no idea how many hours had passed by the time he and Véronique found themselves dancing cheek to cheek, the voice of Dmitri Mitropanos and the sound of the bouzouki transforming the taverna into a magical, musical arena. He knew they had consumed a great deal of wine, and had applauded Kostas’s demonstration of Greek dances.

  Daniel had spent most of the evening talking to Veronique. At some point the group had dissolved, and the two of them had ended up sitting together in a dark corner, watching the events unfold and talking close, intimately. Oddly, although they had been left on their own, and despite the fact that several hours had passed in this manner, Daniel could not now recall the content of any of their conversations.

  Had they spoken about themselves? About Atheenaton? About love? Daniel did not know. He remembered seeing Kate, later in the evening, waving to him as she and Kostas left the taverna together, and that Mariarnne had disappeared on to the beach with Vangeli from the Neraida. But how he had found himself on the patio of the Waves with Véronique in his arms he did not know.

  Nor did he need to. Not-knowing, like not-questioning and not-understanding clearly had its place in Atheenaton, and for the meantime, at least, Daniel was happy to go along with this arrangement and remain unenlightened. One thing was certain; ignorance did little to distract from the general sense of warmth and well-being that he felt, as he and the younger sister moved synchronously to the beautiful melodies of ‘Synaxaria’ for the second time that night.

  The night air was warm and still, and the stars and fireflies glistened in the blue-black darkness. Just a few metres beyond the taverna, the waves broke against the sand, liberating a platinum phosphorescence that effervesced brilliantly for a few seconds amid the silver-tipped plumes before retreating into the sea.

  Daniel felt the softness of Véronique’s cheek against his own. The weight of her arms around his neck was comforting, and her body felt firm yet relaxed. He breathed in her fragrance and shivered as she ran her hands down his back until they came to rest on his hips. Even the waters of paradise have undercurrents; that was what Kate had said. But if it was true, Daniel didn’t care. He turned his face towards her and kissed her deeply. And again. And once again.

  ‘Paradise,’ he whispered. ‘This is paradise.’

  Veronique smiled and, without another word, took Daniel by the hand and led him across the floor of the taverna and to the bedroom at the top of the stairs. She dragged him in through the open door, slammed it shut with her foot and then threw herself into his arms.

  They kissed passionately for what seemed like hours, and Daniel was so involved, so engrossed in the softness of her lips, the sweet taste of her, that it was only when she pulled away and crossed the room, leaving him standing alone, that he opened his eyes and looked around.

  A single, rather dim bedside light - the only illumination - cast its yellow light on to the whitewashed walls and ceiling. The room was small and spartan, dominated by a double bed which was pressed up against one wall to maximise the available space. It was not dissimilar to the room he had used in Kate’s villa, only here there were small, personal touches that suggested something proprietorial: a framed photograph of a family group on the bedside table, an Arcadian landscape in delicate watercolours hanging on the wall above the bed, a vase of flowers on the dressing table.

  ‘Come and lie down with me,’ said Veronique, who had pulled off the blue-and-white bedspread, kicked off her shoes and was stretching out on the clean, white sheets.

  Daniel slipped off his sandals and crossed the room to the bed. Véronique was lying on her side, her back to the wall, her long, jet-black hair splayed out on the pristine pillow. Her arms and legs, deeply tanned, glowed with a bronzed radiance which contrasted dramatically with the cool white sheets. Daniel lowered himself on to the mattress and stretched out be
side her. He put his hand to her face and stroked her hair gently.

  ‘You’re so beautiful...’

  ‘Shhh.’

  ‘No, I have to tell you. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.’

  Veronique blushed. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’

  ‘But you are.’

  ‘Well, if you think so, who am I to disagree?’ She snuggled up closer. ‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ she said, and flashed him a cheeky smile.

  Daniel gazed into her eyes, felt her hands reach out to him and felt his heart beat faster at the prospect of what was to come.

  ‘There’s just one thing, Daniel,’ said Veronique, pulling away slightly. ‘You have to understand, there can be nothing... nothing permanent about this.’

  Daniel looked at her quizzically. ‘I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?’

  Veronique sighed. ‘Whatever happens, whatever we choose to do, it can’t be taken as sign or signal or... I’m not explaining this very well.’

  ‘What are you telling me?’ asked Daniel, shocked. ‘That this is to be just a one-night stand?’ He laughed unconvincingly.

  ‘No, not necessarily. Unless that’s all you want, of course.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can even think that.’

  This time it was Véronique who was shocked. ‘Well, for one thing, I know nothing about you. For all I know you may be a very passionate and attractive man who is incapable of holding down a relationship.’

  ‘Wait a minute-’

  ‘No, listen. I’m not saying that’s what I believe. All I’m saying is that I don’t know you, or anything about you. And more to the point, you don’t know me.’

  ‘Well isn’t that what relationships are all about, finding out about each other?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But if there are impediments to that relationship - obstacles that limit its progress - then I think it’s only fair that they should be declared before anyone gets too involved. All I’m saying is that, regardless of what happens, there can be no future.’

  ‘I don’t understand. What sort of impediments?’

  Véronique shook her head. ‘That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s clear to you that you can make no assumptions.’

  ‘Of course it’s important. Why do we have to set limits before anything’s even happened?’

  ‘Because we do. You just have to trust me on this one, Daniel.’

  ‘Not unless you tell me what the problem is.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What?’ Daniel sat up and pulled away. ‘What is this? You lay down these extraordinary ground rules for a relationship that hasn’t even started yet, and you can’t tell me why?’ Daniel’s anxiety started to get the better of him. What was she saying? This wasn’t part of the plan; this wasn’t the way he wanted things to go at all.

  Veronique sighed. ‘Don’t get upset...’

  Daniel stood up and backed away. Suddenly he felt very uneasy, as if he was being threatened in some way, although Véronique had made no threat, either implicit or explicit.

  ‘How can I not get upset?’ he said, realising that the ground beneath his feet was becoming progressively less stable. ‘What are you keeping from me? What possible impediments could there be? Are you married, is that it? Well so am I. There, does that make it easier? We can be adulterers together.’

  Daniel almost chocked on the word. Adulterer: it sounded so old-fashioned, so Biblical. Is that what he was? Rather than a normal bloke with an over-active sex-drive who for reasons too complex to fathom didn’t fancy his wife any more?

  ‘You’re married?’ Daniel felt faint. He leant back against the wall. ‘Daniel? Are you okay?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘I thought you knew.’

  Veronique shrugged. ‘No, you didn’t say.’

  ‘But I thought Kate... I mean, Kate knows.’

  ‘Kate is very discreet. She probably knows everything about everybody, but she never breathes a word. There’s no way she would betray a confidence.’

  Daniel tried to steady himself against the wall, but he still felt very uneasy. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

  She shrugged again. ‘It’s no big deal. I mean, it doesn’t worry me that you’re married. It may even make things easier.’

  ‘Easier?’

  ‘Like I said, there can be no permanence for us, Daniel. Please don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you. All I can say is, that is the situation. With that knowledge, you can make up your mind whether or not you want to... get involved. Now, why don’t you come back here and lie down and then you can think about it. I promise I won’t interfere.’ She gave a small, saucy giggle, then bit down on her lower lip. ’Sorry.’

  Daniel wandered uneasily to the bed and sat down, keeping his back to her. He leant forward and put his head in his hands. He was still feeling light-headed, and didn’t want to look at her.

  ‘This is all very confusing,’he murmured.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be. Nothing’s changed, not for now, not for tonight.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Daniel. And all I can tell you in reply is that, as I’m sure you know all too well, there are no guarantees of anything in life. I know that probably sounds terribly trite. But it also happens to be true. Nothing lasts for ever. Not even dreams.’

  Daniel looked round. ‘Then this is a dream for you too?’ She did not reply. ‘Véronique?’

  ‘Come to bed, Daniel.’

  ‘But...’

  She raised a finger to his lips to silence him, then leant forwards and pulled him down on top of her.

  ‘We have all night to ourselves. Let’s not worry about what’s in store. You can’t live your whole life worrying about the future when the present is so precious, It’s all we have, Daniel. It’s all any of us has. Let’s make the most of it.’

  And rather than face further argument or upset, and mindful that he might, at any moment, be thrown back to his other world, Daniel seized the moment and did not stop to think about the consequences.

  Daniel did not sleep that night; he did not dare. Making love with Véronique was more than just pleasure; it was the consummation of everything that had happened to him in Atheenaton thus far. In this mystical, paradisaical world, where every moment was filled with a tremulous wonderment, every scent invigorated the senses, every scene delighted the mind’s eye... in this extraordinary environment, where he felt safe and warm and wanted, he had found peace and fulfilment of a kind he had thought lost.

  Even the knowledge that Atheenaton was not real - at least, not by the definitions he would usually have accepted - did not seem to matter. Like a child in a fairy-tale, he had discovered an enchanted kingdom. He had stepped through the mirror, fallen down the rabbit hole, walked through the back of the wardrobe: he had found his wonderland. Only it was not a child’s playground but an adult’s, filled with potential for growm-up pleasure.

  There seemed nothing sordid or reprehensible about sleeping with Veronique; there was no guilt, no sin. It was, after all, just a dream, and as far as Daniel was concerned what went on in dreams was not bound by the usual rules, ethics and moralities of everyday life. How could it be? That the experience had been every bit as sensual, as dynamic, as delicious as making love in real life was no surprise. Hadn’t he had erotic dreams that were every bit as torrid as his sexual experiences in reality?

  Even so, this was different. Everything about Atheenaton encouraged good feelings. It was like a holiday; not the crass Club 18-30 comparison that Vince had suggested, but something altogether more serene and comforting. There was something... Daniel searched for a word that could encompass exactly how he felt, how Atheenaton affected him, but it was so unlike anything he had ever known that either his imagination or his vocabulary failed him. If pushed, he would have to say that Atheenaton had a healing effect. It made him feel whole, feel right; it took away his pain.

  Which was
why he was determined to stay. Not just for tonight, not just for a few days, but for ever.

  Chapter 14

  ‘Lisanne?’

  Lisanne looked up from her manuscript. Across the room, Daniel was sitting on the sofa with a book open on his lap. Daniel usually slouched when he sat on the sofa, and she could tell immediately that something was wrong. His body was tense, angular, and he hunched over the book like a large bird of prey about to devour a dead beast. ’What were you doing with this book?’

  ‘What book?’

  ‘This book, this one on China.’ He lifted the book and flashed the cover at her.

  Lisanne stared back blankly. ‘I wasn’t doing anything with it,’ she said, trying to camouflage the note of defensiveness that, as a matter of course these days, managed to turn her every response into an incitement to interrogation.