Dream a Little Dream

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘I don’t know—’ Cleo hesitated.

  Justin turned on her a face of yearning. ‘Two. Nights’. Sleep. We could book a hotel somewhere. Anywhere.’

  ‘Mm-mmm.’ Cleo gave a blissful shiver and gave Justin another of those special telepathic smiles. ‘Sis, I love you. There’s almost no one else in the world I could put on to have Gus while he’s being such a monster.’

  ‘So long …’ Liza stipulated, meanly, ‘as you tell me what you were doing at Miranda’s house, today?’

  Dark eyes widened – Cleo’s customary expression of innocence. ‘Miranda invited us for lunch, so the children could play.’ Then the eyes began to sparkle. ‘I like your new guy, by the way.’

  ‘He’s not my new guy.’

  ‘I like the guy you spent the night with.’

  Liza glared. ‘Don’t tell me that he told you!’

  Yawning, Cleo wriggled herself more deeply into the sofa. ‘Not as such. Miranda seemed to think that’s what had gone down. Then Dominic looked so incredibly uncomfortable to meet me that I thought she must be right. And then the other guy, Kenny, arrived and started accusing Dominic of cutting him out …’

  From upstairs, Gus, as if sensing that Cleo was getting too relaxed, set up a rising wail.

  Groaning, Justin rolled to his feet. ‘I’ll get him.’

  It was obviously time for Liza to leave the family to do family stuff. ‘I don’t know why everyone should be so bloody interested in my love life,’ she grumbled, climbing to her feet.

  Cleo hauled herself from the depths of the cushions to grab Liza for a warm, soft hug. ‘Because everyone wants you to have one. It’ll be good for you. I was thrilled to hear two men arguing over you! And Dominic is single. And hot. And nice. And Miranda says you’d be good for Dominic—’

  Liza pulled away. ‘I wasn’t good for Adam, was I? And I don’t need to be set up by the Mummies of Middledip. That’s just sad. I’m the one who decides what’s good for me. And if I’m not happy single, why should I be happy in a relationship?’

  Cleo dragged her back into the hug with big-sisterly determination. ‘Nobody set you up, Liza. You jumped the guy all by yourself, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’d love it if you jumped him again. And got drunk at my wedding on Saturday, too.’

  ‘But then I wouldn’t be able to have the kids.’

  ‘Ah.’ Cleo released her as Gus’s crying drew nearer. ‘Then a couple of glasses of cava will have to be enough.’ And, as Justin returned with a small mass of angry arms and legs that turned out to be Gus, ‘I’ve invited Dominic on Saturday, by the way. He’s going to bring his dog to entertain the kids.’

  Liza halted in the act of grabbing her coat. ‘You haven’t!’

  Cleo lifted her eyebrows. ‘Why shouldn’t I? I like him. And you seem to like him enough to drag him into your bed. He’s going to bring his dog to entertain the kids for a few minutes in the afternoon, before the bonfire and fireworks.’ She took Gus from Justin and Gus’s screams raised a few decibels, in case Cleo had somehow missed the point he was trying to make.

  Liza had to complain over him. ‘But we’ve just had a row!’

  Cleo exploded with laughter, making Gus throw his arms wide in panic. ‘Excellent. The real Liza has stepped forward.’

  In between bursts of uncomfortably dreamy sleep, Liza’s thoughts whirled. Dominic had caught her off-guard with his business offer.

  Should she have snatched off his arm rather than snapping off his head? Or was it asking for pain to get into a business relationship with a man who’d just comprehensively blown her out of the strange half-life she’d occupied since Adam?

  Staring into the darkness, she wondered whether Dominic slept well when he was angry – which he had so obviously been. Narcolepsy didn’t guarantee sleep; he could be as restless as she, flipping his pillow, fighting his duvet, beyond irritated that she hadn’t fallen in with his plans. Or, in the grip of REM sleep, perhaps enjoying vivid dreams of throttling her.

  She grinned. Most likely, having made the decision to replace her in his business plan, he’d exhaled gustily and sunk into instant heavy sleep … just as he had in her bed. Before he’d surprised her by emerging from his dreams to make love again.

  Could sex filter into his dreams? That might be wild.

  Annoyed to be kept awake thinking about sex with Dominic, about The Stables, and what to do about Dominic’s offer – if it still existed – she dragged her laptop off her bedside table. A little mindless surfing would, eventually, make her brain calm and her eyelids grow heavy.

  In the morning, light-headed with lack of sleep, Liza rocked Gus’s buggy and tried to keep Shona entertained as Cleo, from not wanting a wedding dress, became Bride on a Mission, flying through shops and fitting rooms until Liza would have cheerfully minced her up and stuffed her into the only-worn-once ivory suit if it had brought wedding dress hell to an end.

  Happily, it took mere hours to locate the perfect dress of brocade and satin in a little boho shop in one of Peterborough’s vaulted arcades, extravagant enough to please Justin but with no designer label price tag to make Cleo come over all cheap. In the same shop, they found a dress for Liza that complemented Cleo’s choice but said ‘entourage’ rather than ‘bride’, and failed to resist a lace number for Shona and velvet waistcoat and bow tie for Gus. Courtesy of McDonalds and Mothercare’s mother-and-baby room, they scrambled to feed both kids and themselves, then rushed to get Liza to work.

  In the car, Gus sleeping and Shona drowsily watching the whizzing scenery, Liza managed to do what she’d failed to, last night – tell Cleo about Dominic’s offer regarding The Stables. And her doubts about it.

  Cleo listened as she drove. ‘What would you like Dominic to do? Absolutely ideally? What would success look like?’

  Mentally, Liza sighed at Cleo’s training and coaching phraseology. It was so difficult to fudge replies. ‘“Absolutely ideally”, which means I don’t consider his feelings at all, I suppose I’d like him to start his business somewhere else, so that, with no competition, I can force Nicolas to drop his price for the premium.’

  ‘Is that the only possible outcome of Dominic withdrawing?’

  ‘No,’ Liza admitted, sighing. ‘Nicolas could stay, though he’d probably have to modify his ideas to avoid bankruptcy. Or he could sell the lease to someone else. Both of which could leave me back at square one: forced to relocate. Which,’ she brightened, ‘is why I’d have to convince him to drop his figure and sell it to me.’ Drop his figure a canyon deep. But she didn’t say that.

  Cleo indicated to leave the dual carriageway and approached a roundabout where traffic swarmed like killer bees. ‘Which do you think would be the bigger success?’

  Watching the buildings give way to hedges and fields as they left the parkway behind, Liza thought hard. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, slowly. ‘Financially, there’s a lot to be said for working with Dominic. There would be the stags and hens angle contributing to a higher turnover. But, emotionally … is it a good idea to be involved with him business-wise, when we’ve—’

  ‘Tricky.’ Cleo slowed the car to pass a tractor and muck spreader. ‘If the worst-case scenario would be that you accept his offer and things don’t work out, what happens next?’

  ‘I suppose I relocate.’

  ‘So you need to assess whether it’s better to relocate now, or hang on to see what happens between all the other parties in case you can salvage something, or give Dominic a try. Which option gives you the greatest opportunity for reward?’

  Liza groaned aloud. ‘Cleo, plain English! What reward?’

  Cleo took a hand from the steering wheel to enumerate with her fingers. ‘Which option will make the most money? What provides the opportunity to run your business as you want to and create your own success? Emotional reward – well, who the hell knows what shape that would take? Not you, apparently. But, at the very least, you show signs of liking Dominic.’ She glanced sideways a
t her sister with a wink.

  Unwillingly, Liza laughed. ‘Probably accepting Dominic’s offer. But I could, conceivably, achieve it all if he would back off and leave The Stables to me.’

  Cleo checked her mirrors and steered the car into Main Road. ‘Liza, that boat has sailed.’

  Although Liza’s schedule said she’d begin work at three, it turned out that her first appointment wasn’t until four. Wishing she’d thought to ring Pippa before bursting a vessel to get to work, she washed and dried the glasses used for after-treatment drinks of water, tidied her desk and checked her appointment list, ready to get out notes for any returning clients. She paused. Damn. Her eight p.m. client was Dominic.

  She’d planned to keep out of his way until she’d decided how to feel about all kinds of things. Including him. And his offer, which was both too good to be true and too good to refuse. Yet she hadn’t accepted it.

  Because she was being sensible. Or a scaredy cat. Or a moron.

  She grabbed her towels and fleece blankets from the dryer in the kitchen to fold them neatly into the treatment room cupboard. Deep ruby red, for the towels, had been a mistake. It wasn’t a peaceful colour and it wasn’t a Liza colour. Cleo was reds and oranges; Liza was blues and blacks and purples. She’d order blackberry or hyacinth, next time. Her hands halted and she stared sightlessly at the fluffy fabric. When and what would ‘next time’ be? Would she still be at The Stables? She loved its peaceful, leafy, dramatic location in Port Manor’s great park. She’d hate to relocate to soulless, ugly brick-box premises in Bettsbrough or Peterborough. And not all her clients would migrate with her. Once again she’d have to grind through relentlessly enthusiastic promotion to rebuild her list and hope she could pay the mortgage, meanwhile. She wouldn’t have the back up of being able to sell her car to tide her over because the new premises, unless she moved house, too, would no doubt be a car ride away.

  And she didn’t want to move out of Middledip.

  Which brought her back to Dominic’s offer … and there she was, thinking about him all over again.

  And she was shattered. Really, truthfully, shattered. She yawned until her eyes watered. The rest of the day was going to be horrible if she couldn’t shake off this dragging lethargy. She checked her watch. Still half an hour until her four o’clock client. Taking out her phone, she set an alert for twenty minutes, grabbed one of the freshly laundered blue fleece blankets and hopped up onto her treatment couch. Closing her eyes, she stretched and yawned, took a few yogic breaths and let herself soak into the couch as if she were made of syrup. Sink. Ooze. Her yoga classes were about the only thing she really missed about Peterborough. Pity there wasn’t room at The Stables to get instructors in to take classes …

  When her phone buzzed and beeped twenty minutes later, she could have thrown it across the room in frustration. Not fair! She’d only slept for about two minutes, hadn’t she? Although she did also feel sufficiently grit-eyed and fuzzy-headed to have slept for a thousand years.

  It seemed as if daytime napping worked better than that for Dominic—

  Damn. Thinking about him again.

  In fact, she thought about him, indirectly, throughout her next two appointments, gradually acknowledging the sad fact that he had access to more cash than she did. That made him more attractive to the hotel, as well as to Nicolas, and her shoestring plans didn’t stand up well against his big, properly financed ideas.

  Did Dominic seem likely to get The Stables?

  Yes.

  Was he really a douchebag?

  Not much. OK, no.

  Then she’d rather that he didn’t have to line Nicolas’s pockets any more than was reasonable.

  During her break, she approached Nicolas’s office, reflecting that only a matter of weeks ago his door would have been wide open rather than barely ajar and she would have bounded in with whatever was on her mind.

  She knocked and pushed the door open. ‘Hello,’ Nicolas greeted her, unenthusiastically. He didn’t wave her to a chair or smile.

  She took a breath. ‘I’m not going to pursue the idea of renting The Stables, Nicolas.’

  ‘Oh?’ His frown was sudden and startled. ‘Why’s that?’

  Obviously, she couldn’t say, ‘I’m pulling out so Dominic can knock you down on the price.’ So, improvising the sort of vocabulary she thought that Cleo might use, she said, ‘I’ve run a variety of scenarios with my business adviser’ – Cleo had advised about the business, right? – ‘and with the bank, and have concluded that there are probably better options for me.’ She turned back towards her own room.

  ‘Liza!’ Was that a note of alarm in his voice? His frown had certainly deepened into furrows. ‘I’m sure you’ll appreciate … Business being …’ He cleared the hesitations from his throat and produced a whole sentence. ‘May I ask you not to speak about your decision, for now?’

  ‘Actually, I can’t commit to that.’

  An instant’s fury blazed across his face, but he replaced it with a wistful smile. ‘Why don’t you sit down for a moment, and I’ll get Pippa to bring us coffee? It’s really quite important that I can rely on your discretion.’

  ‘Important to you,’ she agreed, not sitting down. ‘But I have to look after my own interests. Got to go – I’ve clients booked in right up until nine.’

  ‘Yes, but Liza—!’

  She left his words on the air behind her.

  It was exactly eight when Dominic arrived. Pippa, Nicolas and Fenella had gone home and Liza and Imogen were showing in their own clients. ‘Hi,’ he said, casually, shaking drizzle from his hair and unzipping a black hiking jacket beaded with moisture. He followed her to her room. Quietly courteous, he behaved as if there had been no sizzling sex between them, no roaring row.

  But he didn’t sleep whilst she did his feet.

  Liza was conscious of his half-open eyes and that he didn’t let go completely. When the session was over, she’d held the warmth of his feet in her hands for the last time and he’d drunk his water and they’d talked about whether he’d slept well after his last treatment – he said that he had – he replaced his socks and shoes and slid into his jacket.

  She waited, sure he’d made the appointment for a reason, either to repeat his business offer or to reverse gracefully out of it. But he just smiled a smile that barely reached his eyes, nodded, and made to leave, and it was her own voice that she heard. ‘I told Nicolas that I’m no longer interested in the lease.’

  He paused in the doorway, checked Nicolas’s office was empty, then returned. ‘Oh?’ His eyes looked particularly bright when his attention was caught.

  ‘I just thought it would be useful information for you.’

  Slowly, he nodded. ‘You’re right.’ His expression gave little away. She’d become used to the slow smiles that echoed in his eyes. ‘How about you tell me on Saturday whether you’re in or out on my project?’ And he stepped forward, pressed a brief, impersonal kiss on her forehead, and left without waiting for her reply. Evidently, he wasn’t angry now. He didn’t look stressed or depressed or fatigued. He might have made the appointment to mess with her head or just because he liked having his feet done.

  But she saw that what he’d snapped at her last night was true – whatever happened at The Stables, Liza was optional.

  He was focused on his project. His dream.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  PWNsleep message board:

  Tenzeds: I think the sleep hygiene’s making a difference. I’ve got loads on, but I cope if I stick to my sleep schedule.

  Inthebatcave: Yeah, definitely a balancing act, sleep-v-activity. Even stuff you want to do can get to you if you don’t get your rest.

  Girlwithdreams: Do other forms of relaxation help? Like deep relaxation, yoga style? It helps you deal with stress.

  Tenzeds: Lying down relaxation? It kinda turns into a nap.

  Natalie smiled but Kenny just stared. Dominic could see a shadow behind Natalie and fear rocketed throu
gh him. He didn’t know what that shadow was but he knew it was bad and it was threatening Natalie. And Kenny wasn’t trying to help her. Dominic tried to shout, to move his arms … and couldn’t. Natalie began to cry as the shadow came closer and he tried to shout to Ken, ‘Get her, get her, get—’

  Dominic woke, heart pounding. Natalie wasn’t there. Kenny wasn’t there. There was no shadow. In fact, the room was dark. The reason he couldn’t move his arms was that Crosswind was standing on him, whining. Not Natalie crying.

  He dragged his hand from the quilt and sleepily ruffled Crosswind’s furry flank. ‘’S’OK.’ Probably he’d been thrashing in his dreams, catapulting Crosswind into doggie worry.

  He didn’t let himself fall back to sleep. The dream was too near the surface, waiting to drag him back. He’d suffered from nightmares long enough to recognise them for what they were: unpleasant, scary at the time but, ultimately, just another dream in a long list of dreams. But he didn’t want to see Natalie cry.

  It was six thirty so the alarm would go off in half-an-hour, anyway; he was only that amount short of a perfect eight hours. He swallowed his meds, showered himself completely conscious, dressed, and took Crosswind for a dawn walk across the playing fields, down Port Road, through The Cross. The morning was blustery and wet and he turned his face into the rain, letting it wash away the stupid nightmare and bring him properly into the day. Liza’s house showed a light upstairs, as he strode past, Crosswind running, nose down and tail up, beside him.

  Turning back up Main Road, Dominic wondered whether Liza, Ms Unpredictability, would, ultimately, turn down his offer because of the sex. If so … had it been worth it? That night had been amazing, but if he’d been able to get her on side first, he might have still had the amazing night (maybe more), at a later date.

  On the other hand, if she had persisted in her unreasonable philosophy that working and sleeping with him were mutually exclusive, he might never have had the amazing night at all.