In Dreams Ch. 01

"They did sixteen years ago; well, one did at least!" She assured me. "Mother told me once, that it was like being in a prison camp. She said that although she'd tried, she could not get a message out to her boyfriend. I knew that mother wasn't talking about Bill Morris by the way.

"Neither could she get out of that place herself; she tried doing that as well. I wonder if we could sue them for false imprisonment or something? Probably there's a statute of limitations or something now.

"Anyway the next thing that mother heard, you had emigrated to America. So when William Morris asked her to marry him, she accepted. Mother had no idea where you had gone, or if you were ever coming back. I only discovered that you had returned to the UK a few days ago, through the Internet."

"I hadn't gone. I saw Ottilie in town with her parents a few days before I was due to fly out. Mind you, I'd already read about her impending nuptials with Bill Morris in the local paper. And I weren't best pleased."

"Yeah I know that now, but mother still has no idea. My grandfather admitted to me last week that he was a little more than economical with the truth concerning actual date you had left... were leaving, when he told mother you had emigrated.

"She never saw you in town that day, you know; but Granddad did. He told me all about it few days ago. Actually he said that they made damned sure that mother didn't catch sight of you that day, because they knew that she would never have married Bill Morris if she known that you were still in the country."

"Why would your grandfather come clean with you about all of this now?"

"Because granddad didn't know how to find you in the first place, and even if he had known he couldn't come to find you himself, well not alone anyway. He suggested that that might be tantamount to attempting suicide. Granddad seems to be under the impression that you can be violent when you choose to be. Mind you, he tempers that a little, by claiming that you are only violent towards people who... well, he said, asked for everything they got! And he admitted to me that he has given you more than enough cause to want to kill him."

"He has done! But I'm not a violent person by nature, Tara."

"I didn't think you were, I'm sure mother would have told me; she told me so much about her old boyfriend. But I had to be careful. That's why I wanted to talk to you first; before I proved to you that I am your daughter. Just to make sure that you are the man my mother used to tell me about. And the man I read about in her diaries."

"I'm still a little confused here Tara. You said that your grandfather told you about what he did to keep your mother and me apart, why now?"

"Well, you see father... mother is in a coma, like I told you. But her doctor said that it's not a normal coma. A-typical I think he called it.

"As I understand it, my mother is in a very deep sleep and the doctor said that she does not want to wake from it. The doctor can't be sure but believes... suggested that she's possibly in a dream world and she likes it there; so she doesn't want to wake up. I think I've got that right! But he was probably simplifying things a little; he always treats me like a child, which I'm not!"

"Oh my, my poor little Ottilie."

"Anyway... mother does mumble quite a lot sometimes; but you can't understand what she's saying most of the time. Well, what she says usually does not make any sense anyway. That is except for a couple weeks ago when grandfather swears blind that he heard her asking where Bouncer was.

"Something like that anyway, granddad was a little emotional when he told me about it. My grandfather... my pillar of strength, broke down and told me that it was all his fault! My mother was lying there in a coma because of his arrogant behaviour years before, in ignoring her wishes and deciding that he knew what was in the best interests of his daughter and grandchild... Me that is!"

"I kind-a gathered that, Tar... daughter."

Tara looked me in the eyes and smiled. Then she came over, put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the forehead.

"Hi dad."

"Hello my daughter. You do realise that I'm going to have some trouble getting my head around all this, don't you?"

"It's to be expected. You had no idea that you had a daughter. I've always known that I had a father out there somewhere, who wasn't Bill Morris. I just didn't know what your name was."

"But surely in Ottilie's diaries..."

"Nope, you were only ever referred to in those diaries by three stars, mother trying to be secretive I should imagine. And after she'd kicked Bill Morris out of our lives... Well, you have to try to understand it from mother's perspective. Mother had been told, by my grandfather that when you had learnt that she was pregnant with your child... Well dad, Grandfather told her that you had run away to America, with your tail between your legs; instead of standing up to your responsibilities.

"Mother never could understand you doing that, by the way. It confused her and caused her great anguish.

"All she knew for sure was... or maybe I should say that she believed, that you were not there anymore and that Bill Morris was. So when he offered to marry her she accepted. But she confided in me more than once after he had gone, that she'd had serious reservations about marrying him in the first place. Unfortunately her parents kept on harping about me needing a father, in consequence mother made what she has always considered the second biggest mistake of her life."

"What was the first?"

"I really wish you hadn't asked me that father. And before I tell you, I must ask you to bear in mind that my mother did believe that you had deserted her in her hour of need."

"Oh, I see, but surely she didn't think that I could..."

"Unfortunately mother did come to believe that you had. What else was she supposed to think? She did forgive you though, if that's any consolation. I always thought you skipped out on us as well, until my grandfather broke down the other day and confessed all to me. Had we been having this conversation a couple of years ago... Well, I think we'd better not talk about how angry I would have been with you.

"Very often when the two of us were alone, mother talked about you... actually her one time boyfriend she always referred to you as; the great love of her life. But she would never tell me your name. Mother said that it wouldn't be fair on you, because you had probably married someone else in America and she knew that I'd go searching for you on the Internet. So up until my grandfather told me last week, I only knew that you had been known by the nickname Bouncer."

"If your mother would not tell you my name, how did you work that out?"

"Ah, right from when I was little, I realised that the name Bouncer had to hold some significance. It doesn't take even a young child long to put two and two together. Especially if, when her father and mother were arguing... Her supposed father... Bill Morris... was repeatedly referring to me as "Bouncer's bastard." He even did that sometimes just when he'd got drunk. Which is not an uncommon condition for Bill Morris's to be in, by the way. Anyway I had it sussed that he couldn't be my real father, before I can even remember.

"Actually that is why I investigated your drinking habits, by the way. Sorry, but mother doesn't need another weirdo in her life.

"Actually I kind assumed for a long time that your surname had to be Bouncer or something like it. Don't try doing a Google search on Bouncer by the way dad, you get millions of hits!"

"You tried?"

"Of course I did, I've been looking for my father for years!"

Suddenly I noticed Tara shiver.

"Put your jacket on, you're getting cold; and besides we'd better get ashore before the sun goes down."

"Where are we going; back to town?" Tara asked over the noise of the outboard motor, after we'd pulled clear of Quiet Times."

"No, I thought we'd go to my cottage first, so that I can change; then we'll have something to eat up at the... Hold on, if you've been down here long enough to snoop around and thoroughly vet me. How did you get down here and where have you been staying?"

"Grandfather drove me down, he and uncle George are waiting back at the hotel in town. But I told them not to worry; all going well, I'd probably stopover at your house tonight."

"You better call the hotel when we get to the house and confirm those arrangements though."

"I'll use my mobile."

"No you wont, not down here anyway; you'll not get a signal. So good old Frank brought his brother along did he? I assume that you're referring to your mother's uncle?"

Tara nodded.

"So Frank was coming mob handed, was he? Taking precautions just in case I got all-unnecessary with him? It's just what I'd expect of the old sod, but I wouldn't waste my breath on the bugger!"

"I've always known him as Uncle George. But he didn't come along to protect grandfather. Uncle George is along with us to drive grandfather and me back, after you've punched my granddads lights out!" She grinned.

"Do what?" I exclaimed, as I ran the rib up onto the riverbank beside the old brickworks quay that served as my landing point. From there we could step onto some planks that allowed us to get ashore without getting caked in mud.

"Well grandfather says that he deserves anything that choose to dish out to him. And he promised me that he won't take any legal action against you, if you do."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't trust anything that Frank Thorn said as far as I could throw him, young lady. Anyway, I don't go around knocking old men about; no matter how much I believe they deserve it. I told you, I'm not a violent person by nature. Now you'd better get inside and call the old bugger, before he brings the ol'-bill down on me.

"And while you're at it, you'd better tell him that although I'd love too, I wont be breaking his neck. But you can also tell him that I never want to... well; he is never to address me personally. Anything he feels to need to discuss with me, will be said through a third party. George would suffice, he weren't a bad old stick by my recollection."

Tara made the call, but there was nothing that Frank Thorn and I needed to discuss that evening. Then after I'd showered and changed, my daughter and I walked up the pub to have dinner.

We didn't stay very long though; after we'd eaten we took a long walk through the trees along by the riverbank. It was a whole new experience for me, strolling along with my daughter hanging on my arm, listening as she talked about her mother, and their life together.

Back at my cottage, after a cup of tea, I showed Tara to one of the spare bedrooms and she helped me make up the bed for her. Those spare rooms had never been used before, so it was quite an operation. Then I offered her one of my clean tee-shirts to use as a nightdress, but Tara insisted on using the one I had been wearing that evening.

It's a little... I don't know... disconcerting I suppose you could say, when your brand new daughter insists in sleeping in the tee-shirt you've been wearing that evening so that she could enjoy your smell. Actually the fragrance of my aftershave, I suspect. And that isn't how Tara had put it, but it was in fact what she insisted on doing. I was too new at this fathering lark, to know how to talk her out of the idea.

During the night something woke me and when I went to investigate, I found Tara kneeling beside my filing cabinet in the darkened lounge. She'd moved the lamp from my desk so that she could see what she was doing.

I discovered that Tara was so absorbed in whatever she'd found, that she was totally oblivious to my presence until I was almost standing right over her.

Apparently not at all surprised or perturbed that I'd caught her snooping about in my private papers Tara looked up at me and smiled.

"I knew that you were still in love with mother. You have many more pictures of the pair of you together than she does. I couldn't find any old dairies though."

"That's because I've never kept a diary, Tara. And you have to understand that those pictures are just fond memories!"

"Don't be so defensive dad. From what I've been hearing You only ever had one night stands, now that tells me something as well."

"That I'm yet to find a woman with whom I've shared the right chemistry, Tara!"

"Oh yes you have, but she's lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Tara please go don't getting your hopes up. Of course I'll go up there and do everything in my power to help Ottilie wake from her coma. But when she does, please don't expect us to fall into each other's arms. Dreams like that are what fairy tales are made of; they are not real life. Possibly in her coma your mother is dreaming of the times we were together. But when she wakes, she'll be in today's world, fifteen years later."

"She'll still be in love with you, I know it!"

"Tara there's nothing else in there that will interest you. Go back to bed now, please?"

After placing another kiss on my forehead, my child left me and went back up to her room. I put everything back as it should be, and then returned to bed myself.

The next time I awoke, I was aware of the daylight trying to break through my bedroom curtains and some unusual pressure upon my chest. I also discovered that I had more than a little difficulty moving my arms.

When I was fully awake I realised that the reason I could not move was that my daughter was all but lying on top of me, her arms entwined around my neck. Albeit, she was on top of the duvet and I was under it.

As I struggled gently to disentangle myself from her, Tara awoke. She lifted her head and smiled at me and then moving slightly kissed me on the forehead again.

"I really don't think this is appropriate way for you to sleep, Tara." I suggested.

"Why not? I am your daughter, aren't I? You have accepted that as fact now?"

"Yes I have, but you are also your mother's daughter, in every respect and almost a young woman. Daughters sleep in their parent's bed when they are little children, Tara. They do not usually share their father's bed when they've reached your age."

"Yeah well, but we've got some catching up to do dad. I've missed out on having a father up until now. I intend to make up for lost time.

Tara meant what she said as well. It was about all I could do to stop her sharing my shower with me that morning. Christ, it takes some getting used to, remembering to lock the bathroom door every time you go in there. Well, I had lived alone for many years and suddenly it seemed to me that wherever I went in the house that morning; Tara would very soon show up looking for me.

George Thorn arrived at the front door of my cottage uninvited at around eight-thirty, his excuse for calling was that he was delivering Tara's suitcase, which proved handy. He wasn't invited inside because, frankly, I had no interest in talking to him or his brother.

Having heard and then seen him driving into my yard; Tara decided that it would be... more diplomatic, if she went to the door. George also brought the news that he and Frank Thorn would returning up-country that day. Tara must have told her grandfather that I'd agreed that I would go up to see if my presence... Well, the sound of my voice would have any effect on Ottilie.

After George Thorn had left, Tara took her suitcase up to her room, then returned extremely quickly -- for a member of the female gender -- looking more alluring than ever dressed in fresh form hugging jeans and a remarkably tight jumper.

From a father's point of view – especially one new to the job description – excessively form hugging and too damned tight! But I figured I'd better not voice my concerns at that early stage in our relationship. Well, I had missed out on fifteen years of training, hadn't I?

Tara stood there for a few seconds, I think enjoying my stare. Then she crossed the room and putting both arms around my neck kissed me; on the cheek that time.

I figured that it was about time I returned the complement, or the child might start to develop a complex or something. So taking her head gently in my hands I -- tentatively -- kissed her on the forehead. That brought the biggest smile I'd seen thus far to Tara's face and she hugged me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

It took me far longer to prepare for my unexpected trip up country than I'd thought it would. Besides packing my gear, I had to call numerous people to postpone various appointments and find a couple of the lads to take on the bookings I had for Quiet Times.

What made it more of a problem was that I had no idea how long I would be away. So other friends had to be roped-in to keep an eye on the boat and the house. And of course -- as briefly as I could -- I had to repeatedly and explain why I was going.

Finally I remembered to call Mrs Clegg my cleaner, and tell her that I wouldn't be around for a while. Regretfully Maud Clegg -- as I had feared she would -- wanted full chapter and verse. That call took far longer than I'd hoped it would. However I was sure that on my return, half of Cornwall... the other half – everybody that Tara hadn't already spoken too -- would know that I was now an unmarried parent.

It must have been almost twelve o'clock before I could finally lock the front door. Tara had walked over to the old – battered and very muddy -- SWB Landrover pick-up that I use as a day-to-day run-around. Having dropped her bag in the back, Tara was in the process of trying to persuade the passenger side door to open, when I redirected her to the garage.

With a shrug, she retrieved her bag and carried it along after me.

"A Range Rover!" Tara exclaimed, as I'd opened the garage door.

"Yeah, I don't use her much. The old Landey does a far better job of clearing the Emmets from the middle of the narrow lanes down here. That mangled front end hers scares the life out the buggers."

"Emmets?" Tara queried.

"Yeah Holidaymakers, they're as numerous as ant's down here in the summer. And an Emmet means an ant in this part of the world. Probably old Cornish."

"Anyway the Rangey here, don't get used much; so a nice run up country wont do her any harm. It's a little more comfortable as well."

On the drive out of Cornwall and across a good part of Devon, Tara didn't say much, probably because she had music blasting through those earphones she had on. But I was aware that she kept looking across at me and I have to admit that I kept glancing across at her as well; not the safest way to drive. I know I keep saying it, but I was still getting used to the idea that the angel sat beside me was... well, of my own issue.

We were passing the Tiverton turn I think, when I was jogged from my musing by Tara saying "Da---ady?"

I'd overheard the word being pronounced in the same way so many times before -- by the punters on Quiet Times, children -- that I instantly recognised that it was the precursor to a request that was about to flow from my daughter's lips.

It felt really strange to hear myself answering, "Yes sweetheart!"

"When did you come back from America?"

Actually, I lived in Canada, Tara. And I came back... Oh must be almost eight years ago now. I'd bought Quiet Times over the Internet from some guy in Maidstone. After spending the winter months sorting her out at a boatyard on the Thames; I set out to circumnavigate the United Kingdom. Cornwall was as far as I got.

"What did you do in Canada?"

"Ah now, that was some party! Turned out that my Uncle Percy was a bit of a nutcase. Well, a little eccentric to say the least. He lived, literally, in the middle of nowhere, really out in the back of beyond, the quickest and easiest way to get in and out, was to fly in a floatplane in the summer, ski-plane in the winter.