Charlie's Dream

by Jamie Rowboat

"It was designed by the young lady with you," he said, glancing in Gemma's direction. "After her boardroom coup here, she designed its refurbishment," he continued, starting off again before any questions could be offered.

  The hall was about the size of two football fields and one could see the whole way from one side to the other. The airport world was visible, thanks to the floor to ceiling glass that ran along two walls of the room. The lofted ceiling was also largely made of glass, with healthy-looking fig trees dotted around everywhere in huge wooden pots that struggled to keep their roots imprisoned. The sculptural trees reached their arms up to the light above, leaving the whole room in dappled light. Beneath them, seating areas with comfortable looking sofas, telephones, televisions and individual coffee machines gave the whole place a sophisticated feel. Various groups of people sat in some of the sitting rooms and smart looking waiters and waitresses wearing pure white outfits scurried around serving them from silver platters that they held above their heads in a clear demonstration of their committed professionalism. Edward led them along the edge of the seating area until he made a quick turn to his right and into a particularly beautiful setting beneath the largest trees in the hall.

  "I've kept it the way you like it, your timing is perfect as usual. This section with deciduous trees has only just reopened for spring," he said, turning around to present them with their place of rest.

  "Thank you, Edward, you are a sweetie," said Gemma, going up to one of the trees and giving it a gentle pat. Three couches sat beneath a group of beech trees that had just come into leaf and each one was in a tub that would need a crane to lift it. A huge, ornate rug with Noah's ark depicted on it in strong, Autumn colours sat under the whole setting, and at its centre, there was a Balinese-style coffee table, that must have been ten feet long.

  "Now Edward, I have only a few minutes to hear the story of you and this amazing place and if you don't sit down here right now and tell me, I think I'll burst with questions," said Marie, patting the sofa beside her.

  "I'm going to like you, I can see that. You know how to handle her ladyship and that's rare," said Edward enthusiastically. "In 1972, I was the doorman at the Westminster hotel in Knightsbridge. Gemma and I became friends because she used to visit George Colney, who had a permanent suite at the hotel. In the space of one week, I lost my wife in a car accident and I was diagnosed as having the early stages of prostate cancer. This, of course, meant I could no longer work at the hotel. My whole life disappeared, the hotel abandoned me after twenty years of service and I was facing a heavy dose of chemotherapy, but Gemma came and found me and saved my life."

  "Oh shoosh, Edward, it wasn't me."

  "Don't mind her, you carry on," said Marie interrupting her and nudging Edward with her elbow.

  "Anyway, she told me about her plan to takeover a large conglomerate that owned among other things, a stuffy 'Men's Only' club that she planned to revamp and open to a more interesting and, might I say, egalitarian range of clients. Gemma offered me the position of running the place and being involved in every aspect of its rejuvenation. But, before that, she took me to Provence to meet her friends who helped me heal my cancer. I was gone for six months, when I returned healed in the December of 1973, her coup had been successfully completed and we set about transforming the club. We took it from a stuffy, dark gentleman's lounge, full of hard leather chairs and aging generals, to what you now see before you. There are two tennis courts, a swimming pool, three individual restaurants and the reception area. We serve a huge array of clients, bishops, politicians, artists and models. Despite her remonstrations to the contrary, Gemma helped me come back from hell in many different ways and now I reside in my heaven," he said, laughing triumphantly and waving his arms around in an expression of gratitude.

  "It seems so unlike you, to own a private club. You've always been a devout socialist I thought, all be it a very rich one," said Ian, leaning into the conversation from his own sofa. Gemma laughed loudly.

  "Oh Ian, you are lovely, but you see, I've used this place as my hunting ground for wealthy targets. I've bent more important ears and extracted larger donations for charities in these rooms than I've managed anywhere else. I've even swayed the odd political decision over dinner amongst these trees."

  "They were like the proverbial lambs to the slaughter, once she had them in her sights. I've given coats to media barons who eat people for breakfast, but after half an hour with Gemma under her beech trees, they've left looking like school boys who've been caught smoking behind the bike shed," said Edward in a reverential tone. Just then, the waiter returned from behind the trees, with a number of his friends with him and they were carrying various trays of goodies that they then proceeded to set down on the table before them.

  "Champagne and nibblies," suggested Edward, as everything was put down.

  "I thought, as you don't have that much time to spare, we'd have a glass of nice bubbly to celebrate your return. Bollinger 62, a very fine year," he continued enthusiastically, while he poured the champagne into five crystal glasses.

  "Absolutely," said Ian, as he was handed a glass of champagne and surveyed the tray of canapés being offered to him.

  "I would like to propose a toast, if that's okay," said Ian quietly, looking around for confirmation from those around him. "To my wife, Jackie, who always liked the finer things in life, which is why she left me. Look after our daughter on her journey with Gemma from wherever you are and may that place bring you the contentment you never found here," he said, raising his glass slowly. Everyone reacted to his heart-felt words and joined him in the middle of the room with their glasses touching lightly.

  "I love you, Dad," said Marie into the silence.

  "Well, I am indeed honoured to have met you today," said Edward, taking a sip of bubbly before wiping his eyes with a bright red hanky that he produced from his breast pocket.

  "Hear, hear," said Gemma quietly. The moment was broken by one of the waiters, who appeared again from behind the trees with a concerned look on his face.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," he said approaching Edward, "but the ladies' flight has just been called," he continued sternly.

  "Thank you," said Edward simply. "I'm afraid our meeting has been brought to a close," he said, turning to the others. There was not much more to be said, so they gathered their belongings and filed out of the forest setting with only the bird's song breaking the silence. Within minutes, they were standing at the departure gate, saying goodbye.

  "I'm glad the goodbye has snuck up on us like this," said Ian, giving Marie a tight hug when they reached their gate.

  "I'll miss you," she whispered, before letting him go and turning towards Edward. "I'm afraid I need a hug not a handshake," she said, looking Edward in the eye.

  "Oh dear, that won't do at all," he said, wrapping her in his arms.

  "Thank you for everything, Edward, we'll be back to visit you again soon, I promise," said Gemma, kissing him on the cheek. The old boy just nodded and took a couple of paces backwards to stand next to Ian as the girls disappeared from view into the customs area.

  "That bottle of '62 has hardly been touched, you know," said Edward, after they had watched the empty doorway for a while.

  "Sounds good to me, I've only got a group of half-drunk relatives and Jackie's grieving boyfriend to look forward to at home," said Ian smiling.

  "In which case, we may need a bottle of the 59 as well, and I'll get one of the executive rooms made up for you," said Edward putting his hand on Ian's shoulder.

  The stewardess tried to offer them some more champagne on the flight, but Marie decided that she was quite light-headed enough on one glass, so she declined. Neither of them felt like talking, so they both curled up as best they could for a brief rest before the long drive ahead.

  They stayed the night in Lyon in an average hotel that smelt vaguely musty, so after an early breakfast they were both happy to get on the road. It was some hours later, after a quick lunch stop,
that Marie became drowsy from the endless motorway driving.

  When she woke up some time later, the car was stationary and she was looking over a valley that was swathed in the golden light of the late afternoon. Gemma was nowhere to be seen, so she opened the car door and let the sweet air touch her face. The valley was heavily devoted to growing lavender. It was too early in the season for any of it to be in flower but the vibrant grey foliage carpeted the valley in huge, silver diamonds that were laced together by thin lines of trees at their edges. The great stone ranges rose out of the earth on all sides of the valley around her and the deep orange light that reflected off them enhanced their giant presence on the landscape.

  "Hi there," said Gemma, appearing from down a steep track just in front of the car. "I was desperate for a pee. Do you need one before we get going?" she continued, as she leaned on the bonnet puffing a little.

  "Yes, I guess I do," Marie replied, yawning loudly. "This country seems so old, my mind keeps being drawn to the deep beauty of this place. It's strange, I can't quite explain it in words, but it feels very good to be here," she said.

  "Yes indeed, from the Romans onwards, many visitors and invaders have been drawn to this ancient region. There is a magic here that affects people without them really being conscious of it. I certainly feel different when I'm here," she said, taking a deep breath of the perfumed mountain air.

  "Mm, it feels very calm here to me, as if the comings and goings of man are of little consequence to such an old being," explained Marie.

  "Aha, that's it exactly, but there are many ingredients that go to make up that feeling. Both man and elves have contributed and degraded the land here, but in truth the natural energies are so strong that nothing can truly touch them," she said, gazing out to the distant horizon. They sat watching the light fade in the valley for a while, silent in the magic the now rose-coloured light cast over the landscape, but then Gemma sat upright in her seat.

  "Come on, we're nearly there. I can't wait to show you my place here, it's great," she said. They sped off up the increasingly hilly road that clung to the cliffs like a caterpillar on the stem of a leaf. As the sun struggled to stay above the horizon, they turned off the main road and began rattling up a tiny lane that was only really big enough for one car to fit down at a time. However, they were so far up in the hills that Marie doubted that anyone up here owned a car, but she did wonder who would give way to whom if a car did appear from the other direction. She was just thinking of commenting on it, when Gemma suddenly honked the horn as they rounded a tight bend. The headlights gradually revealed a small group of buildings huddled around a church with a sharp spire. There was no one around and the only light came from a single lamp shining above the gate that led to the grand church.

  "This is it, the village of Vallise-en-Libourne, my house isn't far now," she said excitedly, as she wound her way through the tiny streets. In no time at all, they were out of the village and back into the darkened countryside. Soon after leaving the buildings behind them, Gemma pulled into a small driveway that had a large, green door blocking their entrance. Without saying anything, Gemma jumped out of the car and walked over to one side of the gate, where she fingered around in the undergrowth for a few moments. Without warning, the gate began to slowly slide across, revealing a gravel driveway leading off into the darkness.

  "Very James Bond," said Marie as she jumped back into her seat.

  "You think so?" asked Gemma excitedly. "Normally, I can do it with a remote, but that's up at the house," she continued, as they sped up the drive beneath the ghostly shapes of giant plane trees that lined their path.

  "You're such a dag," said Marie.

  "Thank you," said Gemma laughing.

  The avenue of trees continued for quite a while up a straight, wide drive that scrunched and crackled as they roared across it. In the distance, they could see a number of lights on in the house that they were approaching. It was still hard to make out any definitive shape and Marie squinted furiously to try and improve the image.

  "Ah, Michelle has been in and prepared the place for us, how perfect," said Gemma.

  "Oh," said Marie vacantly.

  "Michelle is the daughter of my friends in the village. She must have come up to the house to make it more welcoming for us. It's been quite a while since my last visit."

  "Sounds good," said Marie, still distracted by her lack of clear vision. In truth, she was beside herself with excitement. After the house in Paris, she was dying to see how this one compared. She didn't have to wait long, because they were soon speeding under an ornate archway that heralded the entrance to the homestead. At the centre of the courtyard, there was an enormous, circular fishpond, which was covered with water irises. Lights blazed from a number of windows dotted around the place and Marie started to expect the four musketeers to jump out of the shadows any minute. Tall, French doors ran along the front walls of each of the buildings that faced the square and Gemma ran up the steps of the main house to a large, red door that sat proudly amongst its windowed friends. As she approached it via a series of sandstone steps that had been worn smooth on their edges from years of visitors, there was a freshness to Gemma's step that Marie noticed immediately.

  "How long have you had this place?" she asked, as Gemma fumbled with the knob on the front door.

  "Ah well, we bought this house in the Spring of 1725 and then secured the title over the rest of the village about fifty years later, once Napoleon had lost interest in the region. We had to completely rebuild it after a fire gutted it a few years before we bought it," said Gemma, as she finally opened the door and waved her friend in first.

  "Oh," said Marie, gingerly entering the hallway.

  The room before her was large, with a sitting area with four comfortable-looking lounges in a square and an extensive kitchen, which was dominated by an enormous applewood table. After scanning the room, it was obvious that someone had taken a good deal of time to make the room look its very best. Three large vases of flowers were arranged in strategic places and the room was filled with their scent. There was a bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen table,and when they checked the fridge it had shelves filled with fresh produce and a range of pâtés and cheeses that would put a restaurant to shame.

  "This place is amazing," said Marie, finally.

  "Yes, of all my homes dotted around the place, this one is my favourite. I've had happier times here with Shamir and various others than I've had anywhere else. Great friends have passed through these doors," she said, before going quiet.

  "And you know, whoever's been looking after it for you really loves it as well, that's quite obvious," said Marie, taking a bite out of an apple that she'd grabbed out of the bowl.

  "Ah yes, Michelle and her family are from a special line of natural healers. I've known someone in her family ever since I was a child and that's only a quarter of their family history. You will enjoy meeting them tomorrow, I'm sure, but for now, I'm exhausted, so let me show you to your room and this place can turn on it's considerable charm for you in the morning," said Gemma, yawning.

  "That's very poetic," said Marie, sarcastically.

  "Yes, yes, now shut up and go to bed," replied Gemma, with a scowl.

  The bedrooms were up in the eaves of the house, where the ceiling became quite low and the vast central beam that held the whole roof together was visible, like a spine along the middle of the house. Marie's room had a set of French doors that opened onto a little balcony, and as she opened them for fresh air, she wondered what view they would reveal in the morning.

  The dawn did not disappoint her. She had woken from a dream by the sound of a foghorn, or that's what it sounded like, anyway. It turned out to be a male peacock, parading around in the garden below, who was trying to attract the female nearby by backing up his impressive visual display with an alluring song. The air was still quite cold and Marie shivered slightly as she looked down across the garden and onto the majesty of the hills beyond. The light br
eeze was heavily scented from the late spring flowers that were blossoming everywhere. She dressed quickly in her favourite Chinese outfit and scampered quietly downstairs for a pre-breakfast exploration. There was no one around as she slipped out of the front door and onto the cobbled courtyard. The house and extensive grounds around it were utterly incredible. With so much time to develop the garden, everything had grown to an impressive scale and it reminded her of some of the stately gardens that she'd visited on school outings over the years. She walked beneath the silver birches, which glistened with a thin skin of dew, then meandered across a large area of fine lawn, leaving virgin footprints as she went.

  "Bonjour," said a voice from behind her, just as she shoved her whole head into a hanging bunch of Wisteria flowers.

  "Bonjour," she replied, hurriedly, pulling her head free from the mass of flowers to identify the source of the voice.

  "I prefer to do that with Jasmine," said Michelle, stepping confidently forward to kiss Marie on the cheek.

  "Me too, but it's good to experiment every now and then," replied Marie, steadying herself to accept the greeting. Marie had been kissed by an angel, with long, auburn hair and eyes of green that shone with the depth of her nature.

  "I am Michelle, and I am very happy to meet you. Gemma has told us all about you," she continued, gaily.

  "Oh," said Marie, slightly bewildered.

  "It's okay, she loves you," she said, laughing and reaching out to take Marie's hands in her own. The moment they touched, it was like magic between them. They knew each other instantly and the hug they fell into was the reunion of two sisters who had longed to see each other for many lifetimes. They both felt it and they had to steady themselves with the energy as it passed through them before any words were possible. In the end, they plomped down in the grass and lay there, giggling with excitement, holding each others hand to confirm the reality of the feelings.

  They began to talk about everything, as if it was vital that no detail of any type should be missed. Marie spoke about her parents in a way that made her feel good inside, because it was honest and real. However, talking about her mum was still unbearable, so she kept her feelings to herself on this subject and Michelle could tell not to ask about it. Speaking about Charlie seemed okay, though, and the fears she had about what might happen didn't seem as strong any more. What freedom there was in feeling and thinking like this. It was a revelation to her, and clearly Michelle was feeling the same way, judging by the way she was speaking about herself. It wasn't until about an hour or so later that Marie's stomach groaned in hunger so much that she could no longer ignore it.