In Dreams Ch. 01

"Well, Pete was never the brightest light in the class, but he weren't exactly dumb, Mavis." Jimmy Morgan replied.

"But you did wonder why Ballard's picked Peter over the likes of... well, yourself even? You went for it and so did Mickie there. I can remember you bitching about it at the time, saying that you were both better qualified and better suited to the job than Peter was."

"Yeah, but what does that prove, Mavis?" Jimmy asked

"Nothing in itself. Until Taylor tells us that someone was spying on him for Ottilie's parents and you add in the fact that Peter's father was a member of the golf club. You know thinking back I'm sure I saw Ottilie's dad playing golf with Peter's father more than once.

"But what's that got to do with Ballard's?"

"Frank Thorn is... well he was, a director at Ballard's." I informed everyone.

All eyes moved to Peter Burton who was still sat in the chair, which was lying flat on its back on the floor.

"I didn't know what was going to happen!" He exclaimed, old man Thorn just asked..."

"Shut up, Peter I'm not interested!" I said, "Just get the hell out of here, will you?"

Pete struggled up and set the chair back on its legs. He didn't reposition it because one of the other guys snatched it from his hand and took the vacant slot beside Mavis.

"May I stay?" Mavis asked.

"Course you can, gorgeous!" I replied. I had no beef with Mavis.

"Oh this is awful, I feel so ashamed of myself." Sylvia said, taking me somewhat by surprise.

"Why, what did you do behind my back, Sylvia?" I found myself asking.

"Oh god, nothing to you Taylor. But I've wronged Ottilie something rotten. We all have!"

"How?"

"By blanking her, we all did, didn't we?"

Nods and murmurs of embarrassed agreement were returned from around the table.

"Taylor when you went off to Canada, we blamed Ottilie for you going. We had no idea that she was pregnant with your child. Well she must have had Tara by then, only we didn't know it. But we all thought... as you did, that Ottilie had been two-timing you with William Morris. We didn't know how, when or where, but it seemed obvious to us at the time. Hey, it weren't as if any of us were welcome at her house, anymore than you were. We figured that she had had plenty of opportunity, if you know what I mean. Then she goes off to that exclusive private school and...

That exclusive School Sylvia, turns out to have been a bleeding unmarried mothers home.

"Shit. I should have worked that part out at least. Christ I've been teaching Tara English for three years, she's just too damned old to be... Well, I suppose she could have been Bill Morris' child."

"Bill Morris is not Tara's father, of that I'm sure. I'm her father!"

"I'm sorry! But why are you so sure?"

"Tara told me and I believe her. Besides she found Ottilie's diaries; apparently in them Ottilie wrote all!"

"Including Sam's seventeenth birthday party?"

"Including Sam's party!"

"Oh bugger, I bet it was embarrassing when Tara told you about that."

"Tara's very diplomatic, but the little tyke knows how to hint at what she has read. Now let's get back to Ottilie herself, may we? You were saying..."

"Yes well, we thought that Ottilie had done the dirty on you, so we all made a pact to blank her if and when we ever saw her again. Not that any of us did see much of her, I don't think. Until Tara started at the school that is."

"Yeah Tara told me that Ottilie and Morris lived out Faversham way until she separated from him. Morris was a piss-artist and knocked her about a bit."

"We read about that in the local paper; they said that he nearly killed her. Tara disappeared from school for awhile and the head told us not to question her about it when she came back."

"So what happens now?" Mavis asked. "Do we all go and apologise to Ottilie when she wakes up?"

"No, you go tomorrow while she's still in her coma. Well, some of you do at least. Look guys and girls the quacks reckon that Tara needs to be talked to while she's still unconscious. Kind-a reminded of her life when it was good. They say that it might help her come out of it. That's why I've come up here and I want you guy's to help in... well, we'll bombard Ottilie with memories of when we were all together; twenty-four hours a day. Or as much as we can anyway."

"All the embarrassed faces around the table had disappeared, everyone was looking and sounding enthusiastic about my plan, even though some of them were confused about what I had been saying. In short, utter chaos, as those who did understand explained to those who didn't; while others appeared to be sorting out a rota. I'm afraid I couldn't follow who was saying what to whom!"

The party broke up well after chucking-out time, the restaurant staff were looking quite peeved when we finally dispersed. I suppose discussion of who would be visiting Ottilie and when, must have gone on all evening, but the girls didn't think I needed to be included in their rota. Some of the guys were roped in as well, but it was considered that I'd be around anyway. Consequently I spent the rest of the evening relating more tales of my adventures in Canada and Cornwall.

I really don't think that I... we... our old gang that is, were on the hospital managements' favourite people list. Because of Ottilie's unique condition, all visiting hour restrictions had gone by the wayside months before I arrived on the scene. After that evening though, the two visitors to a bed restriction was ignored as well. And Ottilie was moved to a more secluded room pretty smartly.

When I arrived at the hospital the next morning, I found three of the girl's -- including Mavis Burton -- sitting around Ottilie's bed. I was graciously given access so that I could kiss her on the forehead as I did every time I visited Ottilie. But then I was pushed aside, as the girls carried on reminiscing about some outing they'd all been on together. I learnt some things that morning, I can tell you! Actually I learnt a lot of things over the next few weeks that I'm sure should never have seen the light of day again.

All three girls had been replaced by other old friends by three o'clock when I was due leave owing to Frank Thorn's imminent arrival.

But a guy called John something-or-the-other, a serving police officer (never a close friend of mine, but he courted one of the girls for a bit), stuck his nose in while at the hospital on official business. He talked to me about Bill Morris and said he'd try to discover where he was incarcerated and when he was due to be released. John did not enquire why I would be interested in such information.

And one of the guys -- who's a postman -- joined the group around the bed when he'd completed his rounds for the day. Christ, I really couldn't keep up with those girls myself.

That was the measure of things for the next couple of months. Some of our old friends, seemingly being beside Ottilie's bed talking to her, almost twenty-four hours a day. I mostly did the night shift twelve till seven AM alone, getting out a bit sharpish when I saw Frank Thorn walking across the car park with Tara.

I'd have breakfast in the café down the road and then take Tara on to school, before returning to my hotel to get my head down for the day. In the evening I'd meet Tara at the hospital and usually take her somewhere to eat. Sometimes we'd eat at Sylvia's or one of the other girl's houses, and then I'd drop Tara home and return to the hospital. Although I wasn't what you might like to describe as "on shift" until midnight.

There was some excitement, like the first time Ottilie returned to one of her states of higher consciousness and started babbling. The girls by her bed thought that she was awakening and a couple of them dashed outside to call everyone on their mobile phones. It was pandemonium in that ward when a dozen or so of our friends (including me) came dashing in. Only to be let down when Tara informed us what had actually happened.

I must say, that I thought that those periods of higher consciousness were getting more frequent during November and early December. But the medical staff -- whom I assume kept records -- insisted that they weren't when you averaged them out. Remember that Ottilie had been in her coma for almost twice as long as I'd been around and the girls had been visiting.

It was a Sunday about ten days short of Christmas. I have no recollection of why now but Frank Thorn wasn't there that day, so I was at the hospital mid afternoon along with Tara, Sylvia and a girl called Joan Harper. I remember it vividly; Sylvia and I were sat on one side of Ottilie's bed, Joan and Tara on the other.

The stories of the gang's miscreant behaviour in our younger days having been repeated so often that they were driving us all nuts. Even though I found it fascinating how different people recalled remarkably conflicting versions of the same event, interesting as well when two of the girls disagreed on a point or two.

Anyway I was thrilling my audience of four by relating an incident I'd had on one of Quiet Times' charters. Where some guy was so intent on getting a close-up of a Basking Shark he lent over the gunwale too far, and -- when a swell caught Quiet Times – he went base over apex into the drink. Discarding his camera the guy screamed for help, apparently believing that all sharks were of the man-eating variety.

I'd better mention that Basking Sharks are filter eaters and only consume plankton; just in case, like the poor guy in the drink that day, you didn't know.

Having finished my tale, I headed off toward the visitors facilities to empty my bladder. I will admit that I'd had partaken of a little light liquid lunch in a nearby public house, with Sylvia's husband Mark. For some reason that little room, the only one us visitors were supposed to use, was right down at the entrance to the ward.

As I exited the ablutions the first thing that grabbed my attention, was a red light flashing urgently over the door to Ottilie's room. Then two nurses appeared and started hurrying along the corridor pushing the crash wagon between them. I'd seen it often, parked opposite the nurses' station. A small trolley, that had a defibrillator and some other miscellaneous medical equipment sat on top of it.

I found that I couldn't move, I seemed to be rooted to the spot as other nurses and a doctors rushed passed me all heading in the same direction; towards Ottilie's room!

Then to my surprise and confusion several of the nurses backed out of her room again and stood staring back into it through the open door. Eventually one of the nurses turned to look down the corridor at me, and started frantically signalling to me to join them. Then Tara's face appeared around the doorframe and she started waving as well.

I knew what the Crash Wagon would have been needed for and -- to be frank with you -- it had frightened the crap out of me! But the obvious grin on Tara's face was implying the opposite of what I'd at first feared.

End of Chapter 01