While You Were Dreaming

‘You’ll be fine. Listen can I call you later? Sorry sis.’

‘He was always taking her for granted,’ said Cara angrily, deep down knowing that maybe she was no better. ‘And she didn’t deserve that. Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about that loser on my night off.’

‘All right.’

She knew it wasn’t ‘all right’, but Ade knew better than to contradict her on the subject of Lena’s boyfriend. She just didn’t like him. And no sweet words from Ade would change that. In fact, knowing just how bad Justin had been as a boyfriend made her appreciate Ade more. Ade was gorgeous. Well, certainly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Perfection inside and out and she loved him with everything she had, knowing she’d have sunk without a murmur over the last two weeks, if it hadn’t been for him. He was a part of her family, well, what was left of it. Both her parents were now enjoying new lives that didn’t seem to involve her, Millie, or Lena. Their father had moved to America about ten years ago, as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce papers, and was now living it up with his new family. Millie and Lena had maintained a bit of contact in the beginning, but that all stopped eventually–he just didn’t want to know. As for their mother–there was still no word from her as she currently gallivanted around Brazil. Ever since she’d moved to Southampton five years ago, it was as if she’d rediscovered her youth, jetting off all over the world. Of course remortgaging her house and leaving poor Lena to pay the ensuing bills allowed her to do that.

Cara got up and padded into their bathroom, a beige and cream marble affair that she’d insisted should look identical to the one in the show house they had seen. The only thing missing was the His ‘n’ Hers washbasin. She peered at herself in the large mirror. Her hair would soon need trimming, but it still looked okay; her eyebrows were a perfect arch shape. To the outside world she was the Boss Lady Cara–not to be messed with and always able to deal with whatever life threw at her.

When she returned to the living room, Ade was lying patiently on the couch and she curled up in his arms and twisted her head round to look up at his smile. She loved him so much and thought back over the last few days to how spiteful she’d been to him. She’d taken out her hurt and anger on Ade and suddenly Cara felt bad about that.

Her mind drifted back to a few weeks ago; she was sitting on the very same couch waiting for her dinner to cook, thinking how lucky she was to have almost everything she’d ever desired.

Now, though there was a great big gaping hole in her life.

A space that could only be filled by Lena.

SIX (#u32eab303-6cdc-5a31-9c93-15fc2175ab0b)

The sun was shining over the inhabitants of Dog Kennel Hill Estate and for a moment, Michael let the warmth of it spread across his face, cheering him momentarily before he realized how heavy-headed he felt due to yet another broken night of sleep.

In the past, Michael had found a strange type of reassurance in knowing how his day would start, proceed, and end, and he’d no reason to believe today would be any different (unless of course he saw the girl on the bus again). Basically his working day would be as follows; arrive at the building with just over eight minutes to spare, pass the elderly security guard, catch the lift to the second floor, ignore the receptionist’s plastic smile, and be at his desk on time and ready to be part of the (at times mundane) working day. For the most part, he would do as he was told and give the minimum standard of service. This wasn’t to say he was a bad worker–more average. Working to rule and not going beyond any calls of duty. If a problem arose, he’d deal with it efficiently and with a smile, pretending the sales figures in front of him were the most important thing in his life. At one o’clock sharp, he could be found eating lunch in one of the overpriced cafes across the road. He’d perhaps buy a tabloid if he’d finished with the Metro on the way in and then get annoyed at the story of yet another overpaid ‘celebrity’ flaunting their wealth. The remainder of work time was spent clock-watching, working and peeking a look at holiday websites. Back home at his flat, after he had picked up a takeaway, he would doze in front of the television, remote control in hand, knowing he wouldn’t be getting a good night’s sleep that night’s whilst trying not to worry about it.

The one saving grace in his life seemed to be his sister Charlotte and her two kids, but at times even she would make him feel on a downer. Of course it wasn’t her fault. It was just that when he saw how hard she struggled to bring up two kids on her own, it irked him massively that he couldn’t put his hand in his pocket and really help her out. Bung her some cash to pay the latest set of bills or give her a few hundred pounds to go away with the kids for a break. He was a totally useless brother and seeing Charlotte and the kids just seemed to amplify his inadequacies. However, he’d promised to fix the light switch in George’s bedroom and he was sure he could do that much.

‘Glad you came over; the kids miss you!’ his sister said warmly as soon as he entered the house.

‘How are the little ankle-biters anyway?’

‘My beloved children are great. Actually George has been playing up lately and I kind of hoped…’

Michael hated it when Charlotte expected him to act as disciplinarian to her four-year-old son George.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a whine.

‘The matter is, when he’s with his father, he’s as good as gold. But when he gets back home to me, he’s a complete sod.’

‘I’ll have a word with him.’ Or perhaps just buy him a packet of chocolate buttons, Michael said to himself. He didn’t want to ‘discipline’ the little man any more than he desired a teeth extraction. What the kid really needed was his dad around–even Michael could see that or even just a male to look up to…Once things got better for Michael, he’d take George every other weekend and they could have a boy’s night in, hitch up a tent in front of the telly and pretend to hunt dinosaurs. But for now, he never wanted George setting foot in his dingy flat in Dog Kennel Hill. He’d have to wait until he bought a house. Perhaps one with a garden and they could go camping for real. He couldn’t wait for that!

For the time being, Michael did manage to mumble a few things to George that sounded mildly stern, confining him to his room as punishment, satisfied with his work until he remembered that said room contained a box full of toys and possibly a bag of Haribos.

Uncle duty done, Michael headed back to Charlotte and Serena in the lounge.

‘Did you sort him out?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he replied, sitting on the sofa and absently sorting through the pile of magazines on the side table. Charlotte was forever reading self-help books, magazines, basic tosh.

‘So, you’ve finished with Jen then?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, as his eyes glanced over a couple of psychology magazines.

‘So, you’re a commitment-phobe?’

‘No, Charl.’ Michael picked up a day-old newspaper from the sideboard, revealing a stack of papers and leaflets beneath it including some money-off coupons for Tesco and an Argos catalogue followed.

‘You were together with Jen all that time and I didn’t even meet her! Oh I take that back–I saw her in the supermarket once!’

‘It wasn’t anything personal,’ he insisted, to no avail. He knew Charlotte had already made up her mind. He was used to Charlotte analysing him every time he came to visit.

‘Mumma!’ wailed fourteen-month-old Serena again and again, repeating it in blocks of ten, effectively drowning out Charlotte’s voice.

‘Yes, I know it’s your new word, but I’m trying to speak to your uncle!’ laughed Charlotte. ‘I can’t believe she now calls me Mumma instead of just Dadda. Result!’

‘It is,’ said Michael, genuinely touched by his niece.

‘And you, my love, have a stinky nappy,’ she said, lifting Serena’s bottom in the air and sniffing it. Charlotte headed out of the room, her daughter tucked under her arm.

The silence did not last long. ‘Hello, Uncle Mike, Mummy says I can come back,’ said George, walking in, looking remarkably composed after his ‘telling off’. ‘You dropped this,’ he added as he bent to pick up a small card.

‘Must have slipped out from one of the magazines. Your mum has loads of them.’

‘She said when Dr Phil comes back on, she won’t read lots. What’s Dr Phil?’

Michael shrugged as he took the card from George.

‘Your sister’s asleep in her cot, so keep the noise down,’ said Charlotte when she returned. ‘Knocked out by her own pong, that one. Now where were we?’

Michael was busy studying the orange card–for Kidzline, a children’s charity–and felt a pang of familiarity as he flipped over the card and studied the caption: ‘Only a phonecall away’.

SEVEN (#u32eab303-6cdc-5a31-9c93-15fc2175ab0b)

Cara sat on a bench, overlooking the entrance to the hospital.

Ade had given Cara the warning that her mother was on her way. He’d even predicted how long it would take the taxi to arrive from the airport–and he’d been almost spot-on. The black cab pulled up outside Fen Lane Hospital and Cara watched as a woman, just a bit taller than herself, stepped elegantly out of the vehicle like a movie star at a premiere. But instead of the paparazzi flashes, the sky lit up with small bolts of lightning. Instead of the roar of an adoring crowd, there was the wailing of an ambulance siren getting louder and louder as it approached Accident and Emergency. The woman was in her sixties, but looked at least fifteen years younger, complete with a sassy walk of someone half her age.

‘Keep the change, darling,’ she said to the taxi driver in a fake posh accent, smoothing down her bobbed hair.

From the bench Cara was sitting on, she could tell the cabbie was delighted as he placed the shiny silver case and black weekend bag onto the pavement with a cheeky wink.

‘Thanks, luv,’ he said.

The woman pulled out a mirror and lipstick from a tiny silvery handbag and applied a fresh coat. She then looked down at her flat black shoes and grimaced; perhaps missing the feel of a good pair of stilettos against her feet, the way they automatically shaped calves into something sexy and alluring. Possibly the one thing Cara would ever agree on with her.

The woman wiggled slowly towards the reception, her case making a loud, annoying squeak as its wheels rolled along the ground. Cara was tempted to stay put outside, a break from the bleak hospital room, but the sky was darkening as the cracks of thunder grew louder and she knew she’d have to go in and face her mother.

‘Hello, Kitty,’ said Cara, acknowledging how ridiculous it sounded, but determined never to call her mother anything but Kitty.

‘Cara?’ She turned away from the lift and faced her, palm flying across her chest dramatically. In times like this, her mother really reminded her of Millie.