In Dreams Ch. 01

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That kind of disappointed expression returned to Tara's face again and she remained silent for a while staring down at the deck. Then she looked up at me again

"Promise you will never tell, father?"

"Stop calling me that, I'm not your father young lady. Not tell who, what, anyway?"

"Whom father! My mother of course! You promise that you will never tell her how I found out that... Sorry, why, I thought you were my father. Are you really so sure that there's no possible chance that you could be?"

Confusingly for me Tara was back to smiling at me as she spoke. I kind-a got the idea it might have been because she'd been able to correct my grammar.

But she didn't make a habit of doing so after that. No bugger could do that, even if they wanted to; because it would probably prove to be a full-time occupation.

"Tara, I'm absolutely positive that there is not the slightest chance in hell that I could be your father. But I can assure you that I'm deeply saddened by that fact; you are a most strikingly beautiful young woman. Whom... I'm sure any father would be proud of!" I assured her.

Oddly I thought, Tara grinned back at me.

Have you ever had the suspicion that someone knows... or thinks they know, something that you don't? Well at that instant I got that suspicion about Tara. However I knew categorically that I could not be her father; so... whatever the child thought she knew... I knew that she was wrong. And I was just a little unsure how I was going to be able to let her down gently; if you get my drift.

-----

The reason that I was so sure of myself, was because -- when I'd left the country for Canada some years before, I had not seen -- or had any... er intimate relations with – Tara's mother Ottilie, for the better part of eight months.

We'd been childhood friends and sweethearts on and off, since we'd first met at our primary school. However as we grew into our teenagers, Ottilie's parents had made it painfully clear to us that they did not consider that I was suitable company for their daughter to be keeping; I'm sure you get the idea.

If I remember correctly, it was just after Ottilie's seventeenth birthday that they took positive action on the matter. Of course it have might been that Ottilie's parents had discovered that our relationship had... well, moved onto a higher level. Or at least they had suspected that it might do in the near future.

Whatever, they set about separating us permanently, by shipping Ottilie off to some public school somewhere where I could not get in contact with her. Their plan had worked.

I was completely unaware that she was even going away to that school, until after Ottilie had gone. The fact that Ottilie had kept that information from me had injured my pride and pained me very much.

Because I was aware of Ottilie's parent's disapproval of our relationship, it was no surprise when they kept me in the dark as to the school's name and location. Effectively as far as I -- and all of our mutual friends -- were concerned, Ottilie had vanished from the face of the earth.

But rumour had it, that Ottilie had been sent to one of those exclusive Swiss finishing schools that you used to hear talked about at the time. The rumour sounded about right to me, because -- in my considered opinion -- Ottilie's parents had always had delusions of grandeur.

The disappointment at Ottilie's sudden disappearance from my life had the immediate effect of leaving me kind of rudderless. I really didn't know what to do with myself most of the time and turned into a bit of a loose cannon. That led me to getting involved in a few ruckuses that I still can't fathom the reason for, and becoming reacquainted with the local authorities.

I had no idea if I was on my head or my heels for a good few months. Not knowing the what or the why of Ottilie's going seemed bad enough to start with, and then when I received no word... telephone calls or even letters from Ottilie... well, I began to get very seriously depressed as well as in trouble. So much so, that my family began to get very worried about my mental health.

It was around that time that I first heard mention of a distant relative of ours in Canada, Uncle Percy. Uncle Percy was childless and he had always been inviting any young male members of the family - who fell so inclined -- to join him out there and become a partner in his mining operation. No one seemed to know exactly what doing so would involve, but it had always been assumed that Uncle Percy worked the mine himself and was looking for extra labour.

Eventually it was suggested that I might take him up his offer -- even if only for a short while -- to get away from things and my mind off of Ottilie.

I declined the idea to start with, although I did discuss it with a few of my close friends.

But then rumours began to circulate that something was (and had been for sometime) going-on between Ottilie and a guy called Bill Morris.

Bill Morris was a local lad who had always been a near neighbour of the Thorns. I knew that Ottilie had been friendly with him all of her life, but very few other youngsters I was familiar with, knew him at all. You see, Bill Morris had attended public schools and he didn't make a habit of mixing with us hoi polloi when he was home during the holidays.

Like all rumours, tracing the definitive origins of the ones concerning Ottilie proved to be impossible. I know; my friends and I tried. But it appeared that they nearly all -- and there were several variations of those rumours -- could all be traced back to the few local youngsters who could be classified as being friends or acquaintances of Bill Morris.

Those rumours ranged from "Bill and Ottilie are residing and studying at the same public school and having been dating each other." Which I thought was vaguely plausible; but somehow didn't quite fit in with the Swiss finishing school scenario.

To "Bill and Ottilie had got married in Paris and are living in France somewhere." Which I found totally unconvincing.

However there were several other rumours that suggested that Bill Morris was courting Ottilie, and which -- over time, having not heard from Ottilie myself -- I did find I was beginning to believe.

Then came the bombshell, the announcement in the local weekly newspaper that William Morris and Ottilie Thorn were engaged to be married. I didn't have to see the thing myself; the morning the paper was published my telephone nearly caught fire as one after the other, all of my friends called to give me the news and commiserate with me.

Without my involvement my parents made arrangements for me to fly over to Canada as soon as possible. I believe they were hopping that I would have flown out of the country before Ottilie's wedding date was announced. They didn't beat the announcement but I was gone before the wedding service actually took place.

It was on the first Saturday of that August, three days before I was due to fly board a flight to Canada, that I'd caught one last glimpse of Ottilie. And by coincidence I was flying out of the country some four days before Ottilie's much-advertised nuptials with Bill Morris were due to take place.

She was out in town with her parents and prospective spouse that morning. Actually Ottilie appeared to look directly at me for an instant, but gave no sign that she had recognised me. Mind you, I was inside a passing bus at the time, so it is possible that she didn't actually see me.

However, her father and Bill Morris certainly did spot me – or maybe even heard me shouting at least – and they had manoeuvred themselves to ensure that Ottilie did not get a second opportunity to spot me. Regretfully I could not persuade the bus driver to stop the bus and let me off at that point in the High Street. By the time I'd run back to the area where I'd seen them, they had all disappeared.

For all I know, Ottilie could well have been pregnant at that time, but from what I did see of her, there was no way in hell that she was eight months gone -- If you understand where I'm coming from there? -- when I'd last clapped eyes upon her.

I suppose that you're wondering why I did not take "The Graduate" approach to the situation.

Well, yeah I did think about it, but my airline ticket was paid for. And after all, Ottilie had not written me even one letter in all the time she'd been away, or called me on the telephone to tell me that she had returned to the area. Ottilie had known where to find me if she'd wanted to and she must have known that I'd had no idea how to find her. And... I don't know. Maybe I was sulking a little as well. And maybe a little of the "You've made your bloody bed girl. Now you go lie in the bugger!" Mentality has to be added into the equation as well.

Who knows why we do anything when we're young?

-----

Tara had fallen silent; I could almost hear the cogs grinding in her brain as she sat there thinking. Then finally she said. "I discovered where mother hides her diaries and things. In one of them..."

"Woe-up there girl, you stop just there." I butted in. "Are you telling me that you've been reading your mother's private diaries?"

"Yes, I found them when I was nosing around, looking for stuff to take to grandfather's house. Well, mother didn't actually keep a diary as such; she just wrote down her feelings about things that happened in her life in the back of some old school exercise books. Clever really, she could hide them by leaving them in plain sight; who looks at old school books?"

"Proud parents do! Oh shit, I wonder..." I was saying but Tara was still gabbling on.

"Oh I should imagine that she hid them better than that, when she lived with my grandparents. Mother wrote a lot about when you and her were together at school, you know... and what you did after school as well!"

I wasn't so sure that I liked what I was hearing. Especially if when added in the suspicion I had, that Ottilie's parents might possibly have come across those diaries. That would explain their sudden determination to permanently separate us.

"Hold on, Tara! You are telling me that Ottilie wrote some of those diaries or whatever, after we had left school, when we were at college?

Tara smiled, and nodded.

"Exactly how much detail did your mother go into?"

Tara blushed a little. "Intimate and detailed, I'm afraid father!"

"Very detailed?" I enquired. Letting the father comment slide for the time being.

"Very!" Tara assured me, with a rather wicked grin on her young face.

"Oh shit!" I said. It was my turn to blush!

"Bouncer, it was obvious from those diaries that you and my mother were so very much in love with each other. What happened, why did you break up?"

-----

Damn it, I knew there wasn't a chance in hell that Tara had been pulling my leg about reading those diaries; when out of the blue like that she used my old nickname, "Bouncer!" The name I was known by during my latter school and college years. But no one had called me Bouncer in many years, by then.

Why Bouncer, well I was the guy who bounced the school bullies and anyone else who came on all stroppy, or tried to play the tough guy. It wasn't that I was particularly good at fighting or anything like that, or even very tough when it came down to it. It was more that I had always been able take a punch or two and still be around to deliver a reply.

You've heard of boxers with glass jaw's who go down the moment someone lands a punch on them. Well I was the opposite; I could take just about anything that was thrown my way and still be standing there hitting back. I didn't always come out of it unscathed of course, but I was... nearly always, the last man standing.

Regretfully my abilities to absorb so much punishment and then finish up the victor -- in fact, if not on points -- didn't do much for my reputation. I was a pretty good scholar, but I became infamous for my fighting abilities. By my teenage years I was on first name terms with most of the local constabulary and the majority of the local magistrates.

Ain't it funny, how some right little twerp of a kid, who goes around beating-up the littler kids all the time, goes crying home to mummy when he meets his match? (Mind you, I've come across some adults who act the same way.) Anyway I was up before the headmaster and then in Juvenile and latterly the Magistrates court, more times than I care to remember now.

Of course I always had plenty of witnesses who would say that I didn't start the ruckus. But unfortunately there were a lot of bullying types in the world, and only one of me. Consequently it was my face that became familiar, and I got the bad reputation. And somehow, picked-up nickname Bouncer along the way.

But I've digressed. Tara had just asked me why her mother and I had stopped seeing each other.

-----

"I really think you should ask your mother that question Tara." I suggested. "Now slip this on, we're coming up to the mooring." I said, handing her a life jacket; I still had a boat to get safely moored.

"I don't need a life jacket, I can swim!" She retorted.

"So can I young lady; but what d'you think this thing is?" I said, opening my jacket and showing her the slim-line lifejacket that I always wear when on my boat. "If I can wear one so can you, we're going to change to the Rib in a minute. Picking up the mooring and transferring to the rib can be a dangerous business. Now please be a good girl and do as I ask. What would Ottilie say to me, if you fell into the river and got drowned or something?"

"She can't say anything." Tara mumbled, as she took the lifejacket from me and began making a pig's ear of putting it on.

"Why can she not?" I asked helping her sort the straps out.

"My mother is in a coma, she has been for almost a year now!"

"Holy cow, what happened? Was she in an accident or something?"

"William Morris happened! He turned up and beat her up... again!"

"Oh my god, that's awful. But wait a minute, lets get the boat moored and then you must tell me all about it."

Cutting the engine at the right moment, I managed to hook the rib on the first try and -- after pulling it alongside and passing the painter to Tara to hold -- I climbed into the inflatable to retrieve Quite Times mooring chain. Then I made my way to her bow and made her fast.

"Again, you said. How many times has Morris knocked Ottilie about in the past?"

"Too many; more than I can count! Mother divorced him years ago after the first time he put her in hospital. But every time he gets out of prison, eventually he comes back and beats her up again; I don't think he's all-there! Bill Morris seems to think that it's mother fault that he was sent to prison in the first place."

"Sounds like a complete nutter; I always did think Morris was a sandwich short of a picnic. But your grandparents thought the sun shone out of his... backside."

"I can assure you that my grandfather has changed his opinion of Bill Morris now. Actually, granddad has changed his opinion about a lot of things... especially people!" She said, with an implied tone to her voice.

"I can't believe what you're alluding too there, young lady. Although I can understand your grandfather wanting to castrate Bill Morris, if he knocked Ottilie about. I'd have come and sorted the bugger out myself, had I known about it."

"I'll bet you would have too!" she smiled, "But I'm not joking, Mr Carson."

"It's just plain simple Carson, Tara. Or uncle Taylor if you want to be formal."

"Uncle? I'd much prefer to call you, dad!"

"Well I'm afraid that you can't do that young lady, because I'm not your father. Look, just what are you doing here anyway, Tara?"

"I came to get my father to come to town and talk to my mother."

"I thought you said that Ottilie was in a coma." I figured I'd let the father bit slide again; for the time being.

"She is, but her doctor said that what she needs is for the people who love her... and whom she loves, to talk to her. He says that that might help mother wake up."

"I've heard of the theory, but I really can't see how it would work. Besides... although I did love your mother once, she ditched me for Bill Morris."

"My grandfather can have a very domineering personality when he wants to... Uncle Taylor."

"Don't I know it!" I replied.

"Yes well, my mother isn't so strong-minded; you must have known that, as well?"

"Yeah well, what her daddy wanted he usually got with your mother. Except where I was concerned."

"So I understand."

"The ol' sod battled for years to get us apart and eventually he sent Ottilie away to some flash finishing school to get her away from me. Unfortunately his plan worked, the next thing I hear, she was getting hitched to Bill Morris."

"Some flash finishing School!" Tara commented with a strange tone to her voice and expression on her face.

"Well, it was a Swiss finishing school, wasn't it?"

"Not exactly, no dad!

It was proving to be a little annoying, but I let the "dad" bit go over my head yet again, because I was more interested in finding out exactly what Tara was trying to tell me.

"Can you recall when mother went away; or more importantly when she came back?"

"I could probably quote you the exact date, well almost. It has to have been about one month before I flew out to Canada. I was due to go out there to work for a relative for a couple of years when I discovered that Ottilie had to be back home, although I had no idea where that was because her parents had moved. Anyway I read the announcement of her impending wedding in the local newspaper."

"But what year."

"Ah now, let me think. Dates and numbers aren't my strong point."

"Well, let's cut to the chase then, Uncle Taylor. I can tell you that you flew out to Canada in late August,1996; exactly fifteen years ago next month."

"Yeah probably, that's about right."

"Well here's some news that might possibly surprise you. I celebrated my fifteenth birthday on the third of this month... father!"

It took second or two for the words Tara had spoken to sink through my thick scull. So I sat staring back at the grinning child for god knows how long.

"Well?" she demanded.

My mind was in turmoil; I was angry I suppose! What man wouldn't be when he had just been given the information I had. But I realised that there was little point in being... or showing that anger towards the child; she was only the messenger, after all. And I knew that blowing my top was not the best way to go about building a relationship with anyone; let alone a daughter you had never known... no realised even existed. And in the back of my mind somewhere was the suspicion that maybe I hadn't... I don't know... asked all the right questions I suppose, before I'd shot off to Canada. But hey, I had been just a snotty teenager back then. Not a good excuse I know; but the best I can come up with.

Anyway there was the chance that young Tara -- a teenager I'll add -- had... well, got it all upside-down and backwards, if you get my drift. Some teenagers do make a habit of getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. In this particular instance, possibly a stick of dynamite!

"Are you sure?"

"Daddy, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't! When mother discovered that she was pregnant she made the mistake of confessing to her mother first; she thought her mother might be a little more sympathetic than she knew grandfather would be. But my grandmother wasn't; both of them went ape-shit of course, and they promptly shipped mother off to an unmarried mothers home, a bit sharpish."

"Do those places still exist?" I asked, not really knowing what else I was expected to say. The full... implications of Tara's announcement had not fully sunk home at the time. Actually I was still trying to get my head around all the misconceptions that had guided... and controlled the previous fifteen... almost sixteen years of my existence.