Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  “Carly!” Linda said again.

  She stepped carefully around the dance floor and joined her friend, who stood talking to Russell and his fiancée, Lisa, who wore a light pink mini dress. Under the dim lights, Lisa appeared naked and her long legs, thrust into heels, gleamed. Carly smoothed down her own black silk dress with a grimace, although the bodice dipped over her cleavage, the hem of the skirt rested on the tops of her low-heeled, tightly strapped shoes. At events like this, it would have been great to leave her cane behind, but she couldn’t walk without it. At least she’d taken the trouble to blow-dry her hair, which shone red across her shoulders, silky and straight.

  “All right Carls?” Russell said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look good.”

  She smiled, ignoring Lisa when she scowled. A newcomer to the bay, she didn’t know that he’d been Daniel’s best friend.

  “Great news about Daniel being back,” Russell said. “We met up for a pint earlier, there was a lot to catch up on. It seems I need to return my best man’s outfit to the tailors.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carly said.

  He looked at her. “Sorry? Why would you be sorry? It’s Daniel who managed to lose himself a gorgeous girlfriend.”

  “I meant I was sorry you’d been put out … having to return the suit.”

  “You could always save it for funerals,” Lisa said.

  Russell glanced at her sharply and Carly stepped back. She wasn’t going to get involved in any arguments, but if Russell did ever marry that woman, she’d be more surprised than seeing Mick turn up to work in a tutu.

  “Where is Daniel? I’d like to meet him,” Lisa said, turning to scan the room.

  Carly smiled slightly, there was no way he’d fall for her too obvious charms.

  “It’s funny I’ve never met him,” Lisa continued. “Why doesn’t he ever come back?”

  “Well he’s here now,” Russell said, glancing at Carly. “I expect he’s busy, all those adverts and photo shoots must take time.”

  She looked away, Russell knew it was her fault he’d gone, she’d been so angry in those days and Daniel had taken the brunt of it.

  “Want a drink?” Linda said.

  “Good idea,” Carly said.

  Following her friend to the buffet table, she glanced at the champagne standing next to bottles of homemade beer, the sailing club’s patrons spread across a broad economic band. Taking a plastic cup, she poured in two inches of champagne, before adding orange juice, it wasn’t safe to drink more with her painkillers.

  “Daniel’s here,” Linda said, nodding at the dance floor.

  Her hand shook on the juice carton and she replaced it on the table, before turning around. He wore a dark grey shirt and slim fitting black jeans, his brown hair, bleached blonde on the crown by foreign sun, was ruffled from the wind outside. Ali stood beside him, her bump covered by a cute blue smock.

  “Oh, so he is,” Carly said, turning back to her drink.

  Linda laughed. “You don’t fool me, he’s looking at you, too.”

  “It’s nothing to do with me. Last night I realised how ridiculous all this was, our lives are completely different now, we’ve nothing in common.”

  “It’s only sailing that you’ve lost, apart from that you’re the same person you used to be.” Linda grinned. “Maybe slightly worse tempered.”

  “Thanks.” She took a mouthful of her drink. “And things aren’t really the same, last time I didn’t have to watch him become a success in an area I failed at.”

  “You didn’t fail, you were injured, there’s a difference.”

  “The result’s the same, Daniel and I might become friends again, but there couldn’t be anything else between us. I don’t think it would do me any good, it was so hard last time, sitting in that damn hospital while he visited me smelling of fresh air and salt water, announcing his wins.”

  “You’re not in hospital now, you’re running a successful shop; it was worse last time because you had nothing else.” Linda looked up. “And he’s coming over, so smile nicely.”

  Carly gave a rictus grin.

  “Less fangs,” Linda advised.

  “Got a toothache, Carly?” Daniel said.

  She jumped, spilling her orange juice. “I’m fine,” she said, mopping her dress with a tissue.

  “Can you dance? Or would it hurt your leg?”

  “She can if the music isn’t too fast,” Linda said. “I’ll go and ask the DJ to put on a slower song.” She vanished into the crowd before Carly could stop her.

  “Assuming I wanted to dance,” she said.

  Daniel reached for her hand. “Come on, for past times.”

  Carly propped her cane against the buffet table. “You’ll have to support me.”

  “Of course.”

  He led her out just as the song changed and half the dance floor emptied, leaving them alone in the shadows behind the DJ. Daniel’s hands smoothed over the silk of her dress as he gripped her waist and pulled her against him. Reaching up, she put her arms around his neck, resting her head on his chest, his heart beating through his thin shirt against her. As he brushed her back with his fingers, she shivered, the fragile fabric of her dress offering no protection against the warmth of his hands. He seemed taller, standing against her, and his muscles flexed as he moved into time to the music.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  She jerked her head up, but he tightened his arms, holding her so close the sharp edge of his hip dug against her stomach, giving her a strong urge to slide her hand lower, across his bottom. She had to be careful, he was on the rebound; she mustn’t let him get to close, else he’d sail away again after Christmas, leaving her heart-broken. And losing him wasn’t a pain she could cope with twice.

  Her feet shuffled on the floor as she rested against him; it was wonderful to be whirled around without the need for her stick, to feel young and well again. People were watching them from the edges of the room, but she kept her back to them, refusing to look. Let them talk, what did it matter? They danced past an open window and she breathed in the sharp scent of frost, mixed with cigarette smoke, which made her feel dizzy, or was it the sensation of his body against her? He stroked her hair, which hung down her back, winding his fingers into the strands as if he never intended to let go. She breathed deep, trembling.

  “You know I’m single?” he whispered.

  She jumped and heat rose to her cheeks, there was no way he couldn’t have noticed her reaction.

  “I was sorry to hear about your engagement being broken off,” she said.

  Leaning down, his breath warmed her ear. “Were you?”

  Tilting her head up, she stared at his eyes, dark under the disco lights and gazing directly into hers. The warmth of her cheeks spread over the rest of her body and her thighs clenched as she remembered lying with him, her skin tingling and flushed.

  “I have to go,” she said, stepping backwards.

  He held her arm. “Don’t leave, Carly.”

  “Let me go, I don’t need this, I was getting sorted. There’s no place in my life for you now.”

  Turning, she tried to walk away, but without her cane, she couldn’t take a step.

  “Carly,” Linda said, appearing beside her, holding out her stick; she must have been watching.

  “Thanks. I’m going, Linda, see you later.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” her friend said.

  She shook her head, tears smarting her eyes, needing to get away. Daniel put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s dark, let me walk you home, we don’t even need to talk if you’d rather we didn’t, but it’s icy out there.”

  “Just leave me alone, I don’t need your help.”

  Carly held her head high, snatched
her coat, and limped out the hall, slamming the door behind her. Outside, a cold wind struck her face and white snowflakes landed on her jacket. Usually she loved snow at Christmas, but not this year, this year was already ruined. Why did he have to come back?

  Her cane echoed in sharp taps from the pavement and a car drove slowly past, wipers swishing, headlights turning the wet road yellow. She heard footsteps behind her and looked back, heart speeding in her chest. Daniel stood a few feet away, his head bare and black jacket unzipped.

  “I’ll call the police,” she said.

  “I expect you would, but we were friends once. More than friends,” he said, stepping closer.

  His familiar musky scent surrounded her, triggering memories she didn’t want to have: of him holding her, kissing her, making love to her. Then his lips pressed tight together; was he remembering too? He stared at her, his eyes tracing the length of her body.

  “Your hair’s great, so like you, impulsive,” he said.

  “I prefer people to look at my head.”

  He winced and she twisted away. Why did she feel the need to punish him? Softening her voice, she said, “I live up the hill if you want to walk with me. I have my own flat now.”

  He took her arm, looping his own through as if by instinct. “Do you still sail?” he said.

  She froze and waited for him to apologise, but he didn’t; instead he raised his brows, grey eyes dark in the shadows.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t, never again.”

  “You could, I saw people with worse injuries in the Paralympics.”

  “I don’t sail.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “Not since the accident, I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because I’m frightened of the sea.” She breathed deep, as if she were still out there in the waves, fighting for breath.

  He winced, standing still on the snow-covered pavement, his face pale. “I didn’t know that, no one told me. Sailing was your life; it should be you with the gold medals, not me.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the floor. Making him feel guilty wouldn’t help either of them, they couldn’t go back two years and mend her leg.

  “I might never have made it,” she said. “It’s not just about talent, it takes drive and ambition. I don’t know if I had that.”

  “You did.”

  “When I was young, we all have it when we’re young. Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, my life is my own. You left and we have both moved on.”

  “I left because you broke up with me.”

  Carly stood still, remembering the sound of her own screams when the doctors said her professional career was over, wishing she’d died in the ocean that day, because if she lost sailing, she lost everything. It was sailing that brought her alive, gave her friends and a sense of belonging. Best of all, it had brought her Daniel, who had loved and supported her, before he let her down too, like her mother had. She couldn’t watch his success, it would turn her bitter, the only way to save herself was to break away from her team mates, from Daniel, to start a new and different life.

  A familiar throbbing pain spread through the wasted muscles of her right leg and she froze. He stood beside her on the frost-covered street and she was grateful the cold weather hid her burning cheeks, Daniel had never seen her like this, hobbling like a woman three times her age. He was fit and well, a hero to many. The differences between them were too huge, he mingled with celebrities and beautiful models; there was no place in his life for a girl who couldn’t even dance properly. It was guilt that drove him toward her, guilt that he had the career they’d both dreamed of.

  Her foot slipped on the ice and she stood still, breathing deep, letting the cold winter air leech away her frustration. For most of her life, she’d been a sportswoman, agile and healthy, driving her body into greater and greater challenges, testing it to its limits. Never did she expect walking up Main Street on an icy day to be so hard.

  “I could carry you?” he said.

  Carly shook her head, white clouds drifting from her mouth as she panted, shuffling forward. Thankfully, they were nearly at her flat, it was time for him to go, he was making her heart race and head spin. Juggling her cane, she opened her handbag.

  “Let me help,” he said.

  “I can manage.”

  She found her keys and unlocked the communal door to the flats. Festive music drifted from behind one of her neighbour’s doors, reminding her of nights spent dancing in the arms of the man who stood beside her. Did he expect her to invite him in for coffee? She wasn’t going to. And there was no reason for them to meet again.

  “Goodnight,” she said.

  “Oh.” He stepped back. “Goodnight.” He squeezed her arm and even through the thick coat she wore, his touch made her jump.

  Stepping through the doorway, she turned to close it, pausing to look at him standing outside, watching her. His mouth was set and flakes of snow were sprinkled on the dark shoulders of his coat. She drew a shuddering breath. It could never work between them, but her fingers still gripped the door, unable to close it in his face. She moistened her lips; a hard band was across her throat. She couldn’t leave things as they were, Daniel had been the only person who made her feel loved. The ferocious ambition she once had, the need to prove herself in a town that considered her worthless had ebbed away. She still blamed him for the accident, but she didn’t hate him anymore.

  “Would you like to come in for coffee?” she said.

  He followed her into the hall, closing the door behind him as if he feared she would change her mind. In silence, she led him along the corridor to her ground floor flat, jabbing the key twice against the outside of the lock until she finally managed to turn it. Warmth hit her face when she pushed open the door and switched on the light.

  “Nice place,” Daniel said, looking at the light green regency-striped wallpaper. A circular mirror hung from the wall and after hanging their coats on her Victorian hat stand, she turned to check her hair, flushing as she saw him looking at her in the reflection. The corridor seemed even smaller with him behind her and she fumbled with her gloves, dropping one.

  “Let me,” he said, picking it up and putting it on the radiator to dry.

  “Thanks.” She propped her cane against the wall and took hold of the handrail that led around her flat, before yanking her hand back. There was no way Imogen would have needed support to get around her own house.

  “Good idea, that,” he said, pointing.

  “Liam put it up and helped me decorate. He’s been so good to me.”

  “I wish I could have helped you.”

  “Let’s just leave the past for one night, hey? We’ll go around in circles every time we meet if we keep talking about that. What’s done is done. Now, do you still take sugar?”

  She grasped the rail again and walked into her kitchen, switching on the lights and kettle. Daniel sat on one of her white chairs at the granite breakfast table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Collecting mugs from the cupboard, she noticed him peering at her smart new cooker and fridge — while her earning powers were vastly below his, her hard work in the shop gave her a comfortable lifestyle. Pouring water into her coffee jug, she jumped when he spoke behind her.

  “I have missed you,” he said. “My relationship with Imogen was never like the one I had with you.”

  Her hand shook as she filled the cups. “It wouldn’t be, she’s a different person, as we were then — younger and less stressed. We lived in a sailing bubble where nothing else mattered but the results of the next race and real life isn’t like that.”

  “No.” He came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, thumbs kneading into her back, smoothing the tense muscles. She froze, dropping the milk carton back onto the worktop. What should she do?
If she moved away now he’d get the hint and sit back down, drink his coffee, and they would talk about Haven Bay, maybe even his Olympic win, before he left, closing the door behind him, allowing her to go to bed, alone.

  The fingers smoothed down her back, sliding under her arm, brushing, briefly, the sides of her breast. She swallowed, unable to move, sweat forming on her hands; this was so wrong, but she couldn’t stop it. The reckless streak that used to make her race against a raising gale was still inside her. Turning, she put her arms around his waist, resting against his chest, feeling safe for the first time since he’d left.

  “Carly,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  His lips crushed against hers, parting them and reaching hungrily into her mouth, stubble grazing her cheek. She drew back, then slid her arms around his neck. Would she regret this in the morning? With mixed emotions, she kissed him back, feeling equal love and anger for this man who held her in his arms. She couldn’t back away though; wrong though it was, she wanted him tonight.

  Leaning down, he lifted her into his arms, holding her easily against him and she rested her head against his warm shoulder while he carried her into the dark bedroom. Here, he laid her on the bed, reaching down to kiss her again, before straightening and gazing into her eyes. She saw both love and pain.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he traced his finger down her cheek, stroking her hair, then trailing it across her lips and down her throat. She shivered and watched him follow the V neckline of her dress, dipping in to brush the top of her breasts. Moving up, she hugged her knees and bent her head forward so he could undo the row of tiny buttons that led down her spine. He smoothed her hair to the side to expose her neck, which he kissed with a light brush of his mouth, before unfastening the first of the buttons, making his way slowly down her back, touching his lips to each inch of bare flesh. Helplessly, she closed her eyes, aware only of the pressure of his lips and fingertips brushing her skin.

  It didn’t feel like it used to. There was a sense of desperation, an overwhelming desire for each other. She wanted to touch his skin, to feel the tiny scars and imperfections he’d gained since they’d last slept together, to learn what had happened to him while they’d been apart. Slipping his hands under the straps of her dress, he eased the fabric over her breasts until it puddled on her lap.