In Dreams Ch. 02

I cannot explain the reason why I did what I did next, it was all spur of the moment thing governed I think by the -- what I can only describe as -- apprehensive expression in Ottilie's eyes.

I crossed the room took gentle hold of Ottilie's left hand -- that definitely flinched at my touch -- and kissed the back of it. Then, pulling a chair close to the bed, said "Hello Ottilie!" as I sat on it.

Then I sat there staring at her expectantly.

"Hi Taylor! I wasn't expecting to see you here." Ottilie replied.

"Oh you know me, kiddo; I'm like a bad penny you never know when I'm going to put in an appearance." I found myself replying. "How are you feeling anyway?"

"Tired and confused. They tell me I've been in a coma for a long time." Ottilie replied with more than a shade of difficulty.

"Well over a year mum!" Tara interjected and then she rolled straight on to quoting exact dates. And from there... Well, whether intentionally or not, it all poured out of my daughter. About how Bill Morris had shown up at their house and after arguing with Ottilie, he had beaten her senseless. And I might add done some-thing I had been unaware of up until that time, attacked and knocked Tara out cold as well, when she'd tried to go to her mother's defence.

A lot of mutual (mother and daughter) crying and commiseration went on, that I wasn't really a party to. I might have felt close to my daughter, but Ottilie was still an enigma to me. Well the one who'd woken from a Coma that morning was. The night before she could still be that young woman I recalled from our teenage... romance.

As Tara kept talking, I began to get the suspicion that my daughter might have bearing a cross that I had been totally unaware of. When I reflected on it later, it seemed obvious to me that Tara had misguidedly been blaming herself for Ottilie's injuries. Possibly because -- from Tara's perspective -- she had not called the police the instant she had become aware that Bill Morris was in the house.

I figured that I'd better mention that to someone, I had no idea what to do about it myself; except maybe talk to Tara. But I still wasn't comfortable in my new position as Tara's father, and had no idea how I should ap-proach that kind of a problem. I vowed to address the problem with my muses Sylvia and her husband.

Whether for good or worse, I was effectively -- if unintentionally -- sidelined by my daughter who monopolised Ottilie for the next hour or so. In a way I'd sort-of expected that would happen, if not welcomed it. I had known for some time that when she woke up there was going to have to be a frank exchange of views be-tween Ottilie and myself on numerous subjects and I had it figured, that that would best happen in private. What that ultimate result of that exchange bring, I had no idea... I hadn't been thinking that far ahead for some months by then.

But as I sat there that morning -- half -- listening to what the two women were saying to each other, I began to feel more than a little apprehensive about the outcome of that exchange when it did come.

I had grown to like the idea of having a doting daughter, and I had become more and more convinced that I really would like to try to make a go of it with Ottilie. Although I understood that there were going to be a lot of hurdles to leap in that one. Firstly I had no idea how Ottilie felt about me... or if she still felt anything for me. After all, the long lost boyfriend Ottilie had described to Tara, had -- in fact -- been a self-centred hormo-nal teenager; a half forgotten memory probably seen through rose tinted spectacles in Ottilie's mind as well.

I haven't ever claimed to be perfect... and, as they say, a bloody lot of water had flowed under the proverbial bridge since Ottilie and I had last been together; whilst she had been conscious of the fact that is.

As they chatted... or rather Tara gabbled away at Ottilie, who managed to fit in an acknowledgment or nod of understanding here and there. Ottilie would cast the odd brief glance in my direction. When she did so I could definitely recognise the flicker of a nervous expression in it... or maybe a concerned expression in Ot-tilie's eyes.

So when the Staff nurse -- apparently checking the readout on Ottilie's monitoring machine -- subtly tapped her watch to tell me that Frank Thorn was around and wished to see his daughter. I announced that I really should be heading to Sylvia's house; where I was supposed to be sharing their Christmas dinner.

Tara and Ottilie both made a show of not wishing me to leave. I was sure I could trust Tara's reaction, but I was unsure whether Ottilie wanted me to stay, just because our daughter did. However there was no way I was sharing the same air, as Frank Thorn and Tara understood that when I explained that he was on the ward.

However there was no mistaking the completely mystified expression that Ottilie had on her face when I left the room. Or the mystified expression that came over Tara's face as she watched me kiss her mother's hand again.

Frank Thorn was waiting by the nurses' station and he tried wish me a happy Christmas as I passed him... Well, I assume it was me he was addressing! However I blanked him and carried on walking as fast as my legs could carry me.

"God Taylor, Ottilie still doesn't know!" Sylvia said, as I explained the morning's events to her.

Oh, I had called Sylvia early on in the day and informed her that Ottilie had regained consciousness. Sylvia was the first link in the chain that was set to very quickly inform all of our old friends.

"She doesn't know what?"

"Anything! Why you really went... or even when you left the country. Ottilie probably still thinks you ran off the moment you heard that she was pregnant. She's been unconscious remember; Ottie probably wont even remember that we've all been trying to apologise for blanking her."

"But she's been semi-conscious or whatever that quack called it, sometimes while we've been there and eve-ryone's apologised and explained enough, haven't they?"

"That doctor said that Ottilie would probably be in a dream world, Taylor. If she heard and remembers any of it, she'll probably think that she dreamed it all anyway."

"Oh god, I didn't think! I was to busy trying to read her facial expressions this morning."

"No, obviously you didn't. Ottilie was probably trying to figure-out where you'd suddenly popped-up from. To Ottilie, the last god knows how many months just haven't existed."

I did not get back to the hospital until quite late. Surprisingly Tara and her grandfather had already left. Things had done an about face; the medical staff were trying to ensure that Ottilie got enough rest.

"If she's asleep, you can stay as long as you like." Nurse Watson informed me. "But If Ottilie's wakes-up, then I might have to ask you to leave; she's got a lot of recovering to do. And boy your daughter has worn her mother out today. Once she gets started that kid of yours doesn't stop for breath."

Besides the decorations Tara and I had been allowed to put up. Ottilie's room was dotted with an amount of detritus one would expect to see lying around on Christmas day; all somewhat unusual for a hospital room. Including what looked like a large stack of unopened presents, but I had to assume that Ottilie had been too tired to witness opening of them all; I was pretty sure that our daughter would have undertaken the physical task on her mother's behalf.

As Nurse Watson had implied Ottilie was asleep, looking almost as serene as she had for the preceding few months. Although, the monitoring machine was conspicuous by its absence, Ottilie's feeding machine was still there as was that container under her bed.

I found myself looking through a few of her Christmas cards and realised that they were nearly all new -- wel-come back to us -- cards, that I'd never seen before. For an instant I felt annoyed with myself because there wasn't one from me amongst them.

Then feeling uncommonly tired, myself, I settled in a chair and gently took hold of Ottilie's left hand again. How long I sat there before I drifted off to sleep myself I do not know.

-----

As I struggled out of my sleep, I first became aware that I had the mother of all headaches, and secondly that I could hear someone talking.

"I would have expected him to have shown some sign of consciousness by now. We'll do another blood test and see what the concentration's like; perhaps he isn't clearing sedative out of his system." A male voice was saying.

"Oh he's showing signs all right, Doctor. He's been fidgeting and mumbling away to himself all night!" A fe-male voice replied. "There, he just moved his head again!"

Because, I had just moved my head slightly -- although still not opened my eyes -- I'd instinctively feared the effect the obviously bright lights in the room were going to have -- so that I could hear what the nurse was saying more clearly; a quick bit of mental fumbling assured me that the two voices had to be talking about me.

That caused me to do a quick bit of general reassessment and I realised that I could be no longer sitting be-side Ottilie's bed. I was lying flat out on my back on a bed, myself.

Okay, that called for a little more... mental gymnastics. In my time... well, I did tell you that I had been in a few more scrapes than the average youngster, and -- although I hate to admit it -- I had been knocked clean out, on more than one occasion. Consequently I was more than a little prepared for the mental confusion that usually follows such an incident.

That "What the hell happened?" and "Where the hell am I?" moment! The two questions your brain tries to work-on at the same instant, and that adds to its general confusion

Maybe I recognised the distinctive pounding in my head as well; that doesn't quite equate with the after-effects of the excessive consumption of falling-down water. A night on the binge!

And I was also well aware, that generally, one tends to forget exactly what has happened in the preceding few hours'... days sometimes.

After daring to risk opening my eyes just a tiny fraction -- to kind-a test the waters -- I screwed them tightly shut again. Jesus that room was brightly lit.

"Did anyone get the number of that ruddy bus?" I found myself asking.

"Ah, good morning you've decided to join us at last!" The doctor said. "You've been keeping us waiting you know. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap! The lights a little bright in here!"

"Sorry, close the blinds for a while nurse, that should make Mr Carson a little more comfortable."

A few seconds later the light forcing it's way through my eyelids dimmed so I opened my eyes to test the wa-ters again.

Above me stood a doctor, dressed in the ubiquitous white coat, a stethoscope hanging from his neck. And a moment later an enchanting nurse appeared at the other side of the bed. At that time I wasn't risking move-ment, or my built in radar might have spotted her first.

"Hospital?" I asked.

"Royal Cornwall, Trelisk." The doctor replied.

"And the bus?"

"A car actually. Some old biddy made a bit of a pigs-ear of parking on the quay. The story goes, that she hit the accelerator instead of the brake pedal or something. Anyway she ended up parking in the harbour. The car hit you and your boat on the way in."

"How's Quiet Times?" I found myself asking.

The doctor couldn't answer that one; possibly he had no idea what I was talking about.

Okay, so I knew I was in hospital and why I was there; but the information had confused me more than I'd been when I awoke. Simple questions were racing around in my head that I somehow doubted the doctor or nurse could answer. Like, "What the hell was I doing back in Cornwall?" and "What had happened with Ot-tilie when she woke up from her...?"

"Doctor how long have I been out?"

"Three, nearly four weeks. You took one hefty knock on the head my lad; we had to keep you sedated until your brain healed itself. You know, you've got one tough skull there my friend, you only suffered a hairline fracture."

I forced a glance at the closed blinds. "The date today?"

"August the Twenty-fifth!" The doctor replied.

"Year?"

"Are you that confused? 2010 anyway. You've only been out for a little under four weeks."

"Bugger!" I found myself saying, unintentionally. I'm not exactly dumb, the doctor's revelations could only mean on thing. I'd dreamed everything about Tara, Ottilie and the others while I'd been in a drug induced Coma myself. Quite a let down, I can tell you!

"Sorry, Mr Carson?"

"Doc what would you say if I told you that I was celebrating Christmas 2010 last evening."

"I'd say that the sedatives we've had to keep you on, have caused you to hallucinate in your dreams."

"I thought dreams were hallucinations anyway."

"Yes well, I suppose they are; sleep disorders aren't really my field. Whatever, Christmas is still some months away yet my friend! Good party, was it?"

"No party doc, just... well things are a little vague, you know how it is."

Disappointed I might have been, but I didn't want the doctor to start to think I'd gone off my trolley; so I de-cided to play down the subject.

"Yes, I find dreams confusing myself, as well. Never mind, I should imagine that you'll have forgotten them by tomorrow."

Then the doctor proceeded to put me through a thorough examination. Standard stuff, basically making sure that everything that should be working, was!

Then he smiled and told me that they would probably discharge me after a day or so's observation and left. The charming nurse proceeded to make me comfortable, both physically and mentally, as only pretty young nurses can do.

"So have any of the boys been in?" I asked her.

"Oh several times from what I hear. But I'd have thought you'd be more interested in your female visitors." She replied with a cheeky grin that told me that she noticed that I'd been subtly checking her... No. Let's leave that shall we.

"Female visitors?" I queried.

"Yes. Mrs Clegg and four other ladies."

Mrs Clegg, well I suppose I could understand her coming in to visit me; she was just about the closest thing I had to family in the county. But four other ladies the nurse had said and I had no idea who they could be.

"Four other ladies; I wonder who they could possibly be?" I found myself expressing my thought's out-loud.

"Well two women and two teenagers. I'm sorry, the only visitor I've seen by your bed whom I know by sight is Maud Clegg; I looked after her husband for some time before he passed on. I can't tell you much about the others I'm afraid; except that they aren't local. We're a little short staffed here nowadays, Staff might know something, as she's spoken to them I'm sure."

"How often have they been coming in?"

"I really can't tell you Mr Carson. I'm on the agency, a spare-broom, I fill in where I'm needed. I'm rarely on the same ward two days in a row. I'll see what I can find out for if you like?"

"Thank you nurse. I'm really a little confused about all this."

"You're not the first by a long chalk Mr Carson. A lot of people have those dreams while in a coma you know. From what I understand some of them can be really convincing. And of course there's always the chance you'll have a little amnesia as well. That can be very confusing."

Then the nurse... bounced out of the ward, throwing me an... er, interesting glance as she went.

I looked around the other five beds in the little ward. At first glance it looked like only mine was occupied. But the nurses must have been tidying things away because -- on closer inspection -- two others looked like they could be in use. I was still wondering where their occupants could be when that smiling nurse's face reappeared.

"If I'm not mistaken," I thought to myself, "That pretty young nurse was tipping her hat in my direction. You'd better make sure you get her name and telephone number before she goes off duty."

"Sorry Mr Carson." The nurse said. "Staff can't tell you very much either. Mrs Clegg is listed as your next of kin and besides passing the time of day with the other ladies, Staff hasn't spoken to them. But Staff believes that one of them might be called, Sylvia and thinks that they refer to one of the younger ones, as Tara."

"Chatterbox?"

"I don't know I'm afraid. Maybe George and Tony will be able to tell you."

I must have looked even more confused.

"Your roommates. They're either watching the TV in the dayroom or having coffee downstairs, or more likely perhaps they're outside having a crafty puff. Probably both of the latter two, at the same excuse." She winked and was gone again.

I lay there half-listening to the noises of people moving around in the greater ward and half trying to get something to make a little sense of everything. You have to remember that in July when the doctor inferred that I'd been struck on the head, I'd didn't even know that Tara had ever existed. Consequently, I could not understand how the Tara the nurse had just mentioned, could be my Tara. In which case, who in heavens name was she?

And then who could the woman called Sylvia be. I'd er... been acquainted with a few Sylvia's over the years and... well, I had been more than a little acquainted with a few of them, if you get my drift. But there hadn't been a Sylvia around for... well, lets just say that they wouldn't have come rushing to my bedside, anyway.

Sylvia and Tara! No, confusing as it was, the only two that I could come up with was the two from my dream. But surely that was impossible!

Eventually just as lunch was in the process of being served. Two reprobates wondered into my enclave, one of which I recalled, was a regular client of one of the local pubs I sometimes frequented.

Besides a brief exchange of smiles and nods when they first entered the ward, we didn't speak while we consumed our meal. Well, not to each other anyway, a few racy comments were exchanged with the nurses and auxiliaries who served us; until Staff paid us a brief visit, then decorum returned. Possibly the other two guys had got a little loud.

"Carson you ol' bugger, you back with us for good?" Tony said walking over to my bedside as the remains of my meal were being cleared away.

"I hope so, Tony."

"Jesus mate, you took a real bash on the noggin. If it hadn't been for that bleeding lifejacket you habitually wear, you'd 'ave been a gonna!"

"Do you know what happened? The doc told me some silly bugger drove off the quay."

"Yeah that's about it, I didn't see it 'appen. I was in the Fisherman's when someone rushed in and shouted that a car had gone into the drink. By the time I got down there some of the lads were in the water dragging the old biddies from out of the car, which had ended up under your boat, onto it. Then some bugger spots you, in your lifejacket floating around, so they dragged you back onto your boat as well. They realised that you were right out of it. We had to clear the quay for the air-ambulance to land."

"What about the old ladies?"

Wet and cold, but otherwise they were fine I think. They might have drunk half the harbour though. Anyway they were taken away by a land ambulance and released from hospital the following morning. You made the TV news you know... or rather the ol' biddies did."

"Tony, you been in here long?"

"A week; had a little problem." He replied, pointing down at his private parts. "Alright now though; so my sentence is up tomorrow morning."

I decided to enquire no more about the reason Tony's hospitalisation.

"I've been told Maud Clegg has been in to visit me."

"Yeah, every evening regular as clockwork; you could set your watch by her."

"Anyone else?"

"Yeah, two of your conquests, I should imagine. And two teenaged girls, pretty little things! Say Carson, what do you get up to when you're not out on that boat of yours?"