Dream a Little Dream

by Giovanna Fletcher

  ‘Just gonna go for a pee,’ whispers Carly before tiptoeing off.

  ‘Be quick!’ Alastair calls after her.

  She waves her hands in the air in reply.

  ‘Time to get serious,’ mutters Josh, almost to himself.

  And so, for the next hour, a sombre atmosphere takes over our usual jolly mood as we work together to complete what has to be the toughest quiz we’ve done in a while.

  ‘Okay teams,’ Ian says into the microphone an hour and a half later. ‘Bex has gone through your entries and, not for the first time ever, we have a tie situation.’

  ‘Ooooh …’ says everyone in the pub. Everyone, that is, except the hardcore locals who couldn’t care less about the stupid quiz – they’d rather just sit at the bar in their usual spots, slurping down their pints without all our commotion going on around them.

  ‘The two teams who will be battling it out to be crowned the winners are … “Rehomed from Leicester” and “The High-kick-flyers”.’

  More ‘Ooohs’ from the crowd.

  It’s us against the theatre lovies.

  ‘Shit just got real,’ says Dan, roughly shaking each of us on the shoulder in the way I’ve seen sport players do.

  I don’t like it and have no control over my nostrils as they flare at him in revulsion.

  ‘Okay – so just write down your answers to this question. The winners get the crown and that free round of drinks for their team,’ Ian says joyously, clearly loving the dramatics of it all.

  ‘God, I hate this bit,’ moans Natalia into her hands.

  ‘Concentrate,’ I whisper.

  ‘Here it is,’ Ian starts, rolling his shoulders, puffing out air and shaking his bald head from side to side like a sportsman getting ready to compete.

  ‘Get on with it,’ someone shouts impatiently.

  ‘All right, Dave,’ Ian calls off mic to a beefy-looking man with tattoos sat at the bar. He exhales one last time before delivering the important question. ‘What date did Countdown first air on Channel 4?’

  ‘I know it!’ squeals Perfect Lexie, grabbing the pen from Josh and writing down November the 2nd, 1983. ‘I know it!’

  ‘You sure?’ queries Dan.

  ‘Definitely – it’s the same day my sister was born. I know it.’

  ‘I don’t think it was that long ago,’ he replies, shaking his head.

  ‘Are you calling my sister old?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Because I’ll tell her you said that,’ she smiles cheekily.

  Dan puckers up his mouth and gives her an Eskimo kiss before planting his lips on hers. They linger there then move back into the Eskimo – their noses rubbing gently.

  My heart aches at the sight, yet I can’t seem to tear my eyes away at the tenderness being exchanged.

  ‘Lex – you sure that’s the right answer?’ asks Alastair, cutting in on their ‘moment’, looking dubious and a bit annoyed that the two are losing focus at this crucial part of the game.

  ‘Definitely,’ she says, straight-faced, turning back to the rest of us.

  As Dan tears his eyes away from Perfect Lexie, they land on mine. His cheeks turning pink when he realizes I’ve been watching their intimate moment – I could hardly miss it, we were having a group discussion at the time.

  Embarrassment floods through me as I find myself wondering what face I was pulling when he looked over. I’m hoping it wasn’t one of utter disgust and disbelief – because that’s what I was feeling inside. Although I’d probably be the same if I was in their shoes – take me and Brett and our total smugness in our coupledom when walking through Covent Garden … oh wait, I could get away with that sort of crap then because I was in a dream and Brett doesn’t actually exist in my real life.

  What a wonderful way to make myself see sense – to highlight the fact that I’m all on my own and ridiculously far away from having what Dan and Perfect Lexie have.

  ‘It’s one of those once-heard-never-forgotten facts,’ Lexie continues adamantly with the tie-breaker answer, looking very pleased with herself.

  Dan picks up his beer and takes a sip.

  I pick up my wine and do the same, trying to take charge of the breath that has gathered in my throat, causing me to feel uneasy.

  The team’s answer is written down and taken up to Ian by Alastair, who fist pumps the air as he walks back to us.

  The table smile manically at each other in suspense. I join in, remembering how much I wanted to win and trying to throw off my inner turmoil from sabotaging the jubilant feeling that’ll come along with the impending victory.

  ‘Right, well, that’s interesting. Both teams have the right day and month, but only one team has the correct year.’

  ‘Us,’ whispers Perfect Lexie with a giggle.

  Our team is a mess; Carly is watching through her hands with her face screwed up, Alastair has his fist in his mouth, Josh and Dan share a similar stance with their arms crossed over their chests and their chins tucked down, and Natalia and Perfect Lexie are holding hands looking like they’re ready to cheer in celebration.

  ‘There’s only a year in the two answers, but only one is correct,’ Ian continues, shaking his head. ‘I can tell you that Countdown was first aired November 2nd, 1982.’

  All our heads whip around to Perfect Lexie as her face drops.

  ‘But …’ she says weakly, her cheeks becoming flushed.

  ‘This week’s winners are,’ continues Ian, dramatically, ‘‘‘ The High-kick-flyers”.’

  A cheer erupts followed by a mini stampede as the performing group races to the bar.

  ‘Oh crap,’ I mutter.

  ‘I’m so sorry … I was convinced that was right,’ says Perfect Lexie, looking like she’s on the verge of tears.

  Dan puts his arm around her shoulder protectively, and pulls her petite frame into his, although I notice his cheeks are still pink now that he’s finally become properly aware of me (his ex) sat at the table.

  ‘We’d have got nowhere near the right answer without you,’ soothes Josh, managing very successfully to hide his own disappointment.

  ‘It’s a game,’ shrugs Natalia, picking up her phone.

  ‘Who cares,’ says Carly, leaning over and squeezing her hand.

  ‘You’re fine,’ winks Alastair, standing up with purpose as he retrieves his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Drink, anyone?’

  ‘Not for me,’ I reply, also getting to my feet. ‘I’m going to head.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ adds Carly, scrambling together her belongings, which she seems to have scattered everywhere since arriving.

  ‘You’re not going to stay?’ asks Josh, sadly.

  His question is directed at both of us, but I can tell he’s really asking Carly – she’s his usual partner in crime.

  ‘Not tonight,’ she says, shaking her head apologetically to the rest of the group.

  ‘Bye, guys,’ I say, giving each of them a hug – clenching my jaw as Dan squeezes me tighter than necessary and holds me longer than I feel comfortable with. I’m surprised he isn’t aware of how tense my body becomes in his grip, or the fact that I hold my breath during the whole encounter.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Perfect Lexie says again before we leave.

  ‘Seriously, there are worse things to worry about,’ mutters Carly as we walk out of the pub doors and into the cold wintry air.

  We link arms and wander home in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

  9

  A party is taking place around a pool with all my closest friends. And Dan and Perfect Lexie.

  It’s afternoon.

  The space around us seems limitless, with no walls or boundaries to cage us in – although there’s nothing other than a kidney-shaped swimming pool, three chunky green velvet sofas and a huge tree next to the sofa on which I’m sat, alone.

  No one is in the water.

  Carly and Josh are snuggled in their normal manner on the sofa next to mine and Dan, Al
astair and Natalia are sat on the furthest sofa across the pool.

  Unlike the others, who have comfortably got their feet tucked up underneath their bottoms, Dan is in a sitting position with his feet on the ground and his legs wide apart, his body facing mine.

  He’s staring at me.

  Really staring.

  Suggestively staring.

  Like he wants me.

  I’m surprised at the stirrings it causes within me as I feel a fire growing from between my thighs and creeping all the way up my body and down to my toes.

  His look makes me tingle.

  His look makes me warm.

  His look makes me want him, too.

  The intensity of his stare makes me look away and feel uncomfortable. I know they’re bad feelings to have and I know that I don’t want to feel them. I must block him out and not encourage him.

  Suddenly Perfect Lexie is by my side – although not on the sofa. She’s on a rope swing at the bottom of the tree, swinging back and forth in a serene manner while singing to herself.

  She’s in a world of her own.

  Her eyes flick up to meet mine. Without warning, she jumps off the wooden swing seat with ease.

  ‘I’ve arranged a little surprise,’ she whispers to me with a smile.

  And, in a flash, I understand what’s happening – it’s Carly’s birthday and we’re all here to celebrate. Perfect Lexie is about to perform.

  ‘Hold this,’ Lexie whispers, handing me a wooden baton, before pulling herself up the rope of the swing like a monkey and sitting on the branches above.

  It’s then that I see the scaffolding she’s erected. A big structure mingled in with the tree’s leafy branches, and towering high above it in a rickety way that seems unsteady and handmade.

  That’s what she’s been doing, I realize. That’s what she used the baton for.

  Perfect Lexie, perched on a branch, looks at us all with a glowing smile before leaping up further through the trees.

  I’m watching, impressed and moved by the fluidity in her moves – the gracefulness and the beauty. Having never really stopped to appreciate her in this way before (I usually blank it all out or turn everything positive about her into something negative about me), I’m floored by her brilliance, and the way a sweet vulnerability and innocence shines through.

  A movement next to me catches my eye. Part of the wooden frame she’s swinging from is starting to buckle.

  She notices it, too. She looks at me imploringly as a flicker of panic crosses her face.

  It’s not safe.

  She should come down.

  But she looks so wonderfully magical up there, my mind tells me. She can’t stop now.

  I jump up from my seat and sprint over to the wood that’s threatening to give way. Instinctively, I throw my weight against it to steady it. It’s painful to do, and hard – but I can’t call out to the others. They need to watch her. Need to see her majestic qualities.

  The structure is bigger and stronger than I am. I know I won’t be able to last much longer against its willpower to drop. I grit my teeth and tense my body, willing it to stay in place – knowing that if I were to move and let it crumble, not only would Lexie stop dancing, but she’d fall.

  I don’t want Lexie to fall from that great height.

  I want her to continue in her serene state.

  I want to keep her safe.

  I look up to see Lexie reaching the very peak of the frame. She stops and grins down to us all before jumping in the air with a twirl and nose-diving towards the ground.

  That’s it, she’s safe, I realize, stopping my fight and running away from the structure.

  Above me, Lexie grabs hold of ropes, making her way back down to us – beautifully and effortlessly swinging through the air with unbelievable strength and control, as planks of wood tumble and collapse behind her.

  It’s like something from an action film.

  When she hits the ground gracefully my friends gather to congratulate her, completely oblivious to the destruction going on right next to them – and what I helped to prevent.

  I don’t mind. As I look at Lexie I feel a sense of awe and pride.

  But mostly, I feel protective.

  Some dreams you’d rather wake up and forget – and that was one of them, I sleepily realize as I curl into my duvet covers. Reawakening sexual feelings for Dan and fangirling over Perfect Lexie are not my idea of a fairytale dream … but part of it sticks with me as I get ready for work.

  Lexie.

  Not Perfect Lexie, just Lexie – an innocent and sweet girl who isn’t really to blame for Dan ditching me so unceremoniously. Not really. I mean, it’s possible that if she hadn’t entered our lives at that point, me and Dan would still be together – but it’s clear that I didn’t make him happy and that he felt something was lacking between us, even if that fact wasn’t verbalized or shown to me in any way before it was too late. If I’d have had a heads-up, perhaps I’d have been able to change something – put in more effort or something – but we’ll never know. He clearly didn’t want to work at things, he wanted a fresh start with someone new.

  I shouldn’t have held Lexie so accountable for the problems in our relationship, I think she was just an easy target for my loathing. I wonder what I would’ve done in her position, and I wonder how much Dan would’ve bent the truth to make himself look like less of a dick in the scenario we’d found ourselves in.

  Lexie is just a girl who had a guy fall in love with her; perhaps I should stop being so hard on her in my head, because even though I never act on those thoughts or find myself being rude to her, those negative feelings are still there. Still underlying every encounter we have. I’m aware that if I don’t make a conscious effort to pause and reflect, they might linger on forever and snowball into something unmanageable.

  Lexie didn’t break my heart – she just caught hold of someone else’s when they were in the midst of doing the smashing.

  Dan is an entirely different matter, though. I still think he’s a twat, but for the moment, my heart is telling me to pop a lid on my attitude towards Lexie. She’s not perfect, she’s as flawed and vulnerable as the rest of us and, ridiculously, I now find myself feeling maternal towards her.

  It’s a notion that sticks with me throughout the morning as I sit quietly at my desk at work getting on with my daily chores like Cinderella, wondering if I’m ever going to be allowed to the ball – or, in this case, the boardroom where all the dreaming happens.

  ‘Sarah, could you come in here for a minute?’ Jonathan asks, popping his head around his office door, then giving Julie a little wink before heading back inside.

  It took precisely seventy-one hours and eight minutes for Dominique to further mull over her offer (from when I’d overheard of its existence while sat on the loo – not doing a number two) before handing in her notice to Jonathan and Derek. Which happened one hour and twenty-three minutes ago.

  Since then I’ve been daydreaming about Jonathan dancing over to my desk, with a big fat cheque, taking me by the hand and guiding me through the office to my new spot on the Development team … but so far that hasn’t materialized. In fact, this is the first time Jonathan has spoken to me since Dominique walked out of his office with a smug look on her face, now one hour and twenty-four minutes ago.

  ‘Coming,’ I breathe, pushing out my chair and skipping in with speed, wondering if this is the moment I’ve been hoping for – the big promotion.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,’ he says slowly, getting back into his chair.

  It is!

  It’s THE big moment!

  I’m about to WIN at life!

  ‘Oh?’ I say coyly, trying to suppress my excitement.

  ‘Yes. Obviously you’ve heard that Dominique handed in her notice this morning?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ I say, trying to squish my excitement and sound sad about her departure.

  ‘A total surprise,’ Jonathan sa
ys, shaking his head in confusion. ‘Didn’t see that one coming.’

  ‘No. Me neither,’ I lie.

  ‘So, as luck would have it – I’m now looking at replacing her when she leaves next month,’ he continues with a frown, looking at me from underneath his bushy eyebrows.

  ‘Right,’ I say, my eyes widening as a grin pings on to my face.

  I can’t help it.

  I am.

  I’m about to WIN at life!

  ‘I have to follow normal procedures and interview you, of course,’ he grumbles in a formal manner before picking bits of sugar and crumbs off his sweater vest and flicking them on the floor.

  ‘Yes, of course – that’s what I thought. I never assumed you’d just hand me the – ’

  ‘And in the interest of fairness and out of respect to how it’s always been done,’ he cuts in (naturally), ‘I’ll also have to open the door to other candidates.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Well, that stops my excitement with a punch.

  ‘Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.’

  ‘No … ?’

  ‘Just routine,’ he says flatly.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Good business, that’s all, and hiring has to be something Derek and I both agree on.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Interviews will be held here next Monday.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘But I’ll get Julie to sort all that out and give you a time,’ he says, waving his hand around flippantly at the detail.

  ‘Julie?’

  ‘Well, you don’t want to be dealing with the enemy,’ he scoffs. ‘I’ve asked Julie to deal with setting up interviews for potential candidates.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I say, wondering how much I could persuade Julie to stuff up all the timings so that no one turns up, or to only pick really crap applicants for me to go up against.

  ‘Like I said, nothing to worry about,’ he winks. ‘In fact, as a goodwill gesture, why don’t you take the rest of your interview day off. On us.’