‘It’s a beautiful day. Sometimes that’s enough.’
‘Kostas is celebrating his conquest of Marianne,’ said Véronique, turning round to look at Daniel.
Daniel nodded. ‘And what about you, Kate? What are you celebrating?
Kate smiled. ‘Your return to the fold,’ she said softly, then leant forward and tapped Barry on the shoulder. ‘Left at the next crossroads, Barry, then straight on till daybreak.’
Daniel gave Kate a look of shocked amazement, then, seeing Kate’s cheeky smile, burst out laughing.
‘So that’s where we are!’ he said triumphantly, and allowed the tension that had been mounting since early that morning to dissipate.
They arrived at a tiny village in the lee of the over-hanging peak as the sun reached its zenith, and piled out on to the gravel and sand forecourt of a dilapidated taverna.
‘We’ve arrived,’ said Kate with unusual solemnity.
Daniel gazed around. They were on the northern edge of a square bounded on one side by the taverna. Opposite where they had parked stood a line of olive trees obscuring some smaller villas. Along both sides, bare wooden tables had been placed, in readiness, Daniel presumed, for a buffet of some kind.
In the centre of the square, a huge tree resembling an aged, gnarled oak spread its boughs in a natural canopy. Its trunk had been white-washed, and dozens of coloured lightbulbs adorned its branches.
As the second jeep drew up, Daniel became aware of the familiar strains of “Synaxaria” coming from the taverna. He smiled.
‘Especially for you,’ said Kate, seeing his smile.
‘Time for drinking!’ boomed Vangeli as he leapt out of the jeep and headed through the door of the taverna.
Barry and Kostas grabbed a table and placed it underneath the central tree, while Marianne and Kate hunted for chairs.
‘We must be early,’ said Daniel, looking around him for other signs of life.
‘Just wait,’ said Vangeli returning with four ceramic carafes and eight glasses on a large wooden tray. He put it on the table and started to pour the retsina.
By the time the eighth glass had been filled, the chairs had been arranged and everyone was seated.
‘To us!’ toasted Kate, lifting her glass without spilling a drop.
‘Yamus!’ chorused the others, each grabbing a glass and downing the contents in one.
‘To a day of celebration,’ said Barry, refilling his glass. ‘It sure feels good to be free.’
Free? thought Daniel. Free from what? Surely he can’t mean the Pumphouse?
Imogen, the newcomer, raised her glass timidly and smiled. Daniel thought she looked pale, and far younger than the others seated around the table. What’s your problem? he wanted to ask, but thought better of it.
The music from the taverna swelled and filled the square. Villagers started to emerge from their homes carrying plates of food, jugs of wine, baskets of fruit, which they placed on the bare tables,.They greeted the party by the oak tree with friendly shouts of ‘Yassu!’ and various benedictions that Daniel could not understand.
Within an hour, the square was bustling with crowds of olive-skinned, dark-haired locals. A group of musicians - the local bouzouki band - had gathered to the right of the taverna and were busy setting up their instruments. More food appeared on the tables, more retsina materialised in their glasses, and more laughter began to echo around the square.
Children, each dressed in what Daniel imagined were ‘Sunday-best’ clothes began to mill about among the adults, and soon the lively shrieks of kids at play were added to the melange of festive sounds. They were the first children Daniel had seen in Atheenaton, and though it was heart-warming to see children racing around and having fun, he could not help but be concerned. Were they there because they too had problems, illnesses, things they could not cope with? Or were they just part of the background, the infrastructure, of this extraordinary place? He had to concede that he would never understand the mechanics of Atheenaton, and that any attempts to do so would only end up tying him in knots.
The musicians started to tune up. One of the children brought a tray laden with glasses of wine for the band, and they all abandoned their instruments to toast themselves and the assembled crowd, before launching into a rousing syrtaki. Daniel became aware once again of the smell of pine needles and the atmosphere of ease and goodness that he had first encountered in Atheenaton. He felt Véronique take his hand beneath the table.
‘What are you celebrating today,’ he whispered as he leant over to kiss her neck.
‘Meeting you,’ she said softly, returning his kiss.
Daniel watched in delight as Kostas and Barry walked into the square, stood side by side, an arm’s length apart, reached out to grab one another by the shoulder and began to dance. A space cleared immediately, and everyone began to clap their hands in time to the synchronised display. It was apparent to Daniel that they had done this many times, such was their finesse, and yet there was a freshness and naivety to their movements that endowed the dance with a sense of freedom and childlike wonder.
Some of the young men of the village joined in, and soon there was a line of seven, all dancing perfectly in time. A couple of old-timers cleared a space on one of the tables and matched the youngsters move for move. Everyone cheered and yelled, raising their glasses to the dancers. Wine flowed liberally, generously, into empty and half-filled glasses as the bouzouki band played on.
Marianne and Vangeli grabbed a few bystanders, formed a chain and started a different dance, an apparently simple set of steps that everyone could do (although Daniel had difficulty mastering the rhythmic changes), and the whole village linked up to dance in an ever-increasing spiral round the tree. The band played faster, the happy villagers twisted and turned to the syncopations of the bouzouki, some falling over in mild hysteria and drunkenness while others rallied round to help them to their feet.
The spiral broke and reformed many times during the dance, until there were two independent chains dancing around the tree in opposite directions. Daniel found himself between Marianne and Kate at one point, having lost Véronique in the shifts and changes.
‘Daniel! Isn’t it wonderful?’ bellowed Marianne as she twirled beneath his arm.
‘Wonderful!’ yelled Daniel, beaming. The wine had enlivened him considerably.
‘Have you decided what you’re celebrating yet?’ shouted Marianne.
‘Not really. How about you?’
‘Life, Daniel, I’m celebrating life and living. I think it’s what Véronique would want, don’t you?’
Daniel nodded, a touch seriously. The chain broke once again, and he found himself linked up between two local women, who blushed when he smiled at them.
They danced and drank, ate and sang. The never-ending supply of food and drink kept spirits high and appetites lively. The sky darkened into night and the lights on the trees bathed the village in a warm glow.
During a brief respite from the dancing, Kate took Daniel aside and, as he was decidedly tipsy from the retsina, supported him as she led him up towards the peak.
‘Where are we going?’ said Daniel, his words greeting the warm evening air like a troupe of circus tumblers entering the ring, tripping up and falling over each other.
‘Trust me. I want you to see something.’
They walked in near-darkness away from the village, up a narrow dirt track. Despite being unable to see anything other than shadows, and even though his balance was not all it might be, Daniel felt quite safe. He allowed Kate to guide him up the steep incline until they emerged on to a bluff of rock. Down below Daniel could see the fairy-lights of the bustling village and the crowds of people milling around without apparent purpose or direction. It was an enchanting sight.
‘Look Daniel... no, not down there, over here. Look.’
Steered by Kate’s gentle pressure on his arm, Daniel peered out into the darkness.
‘I can’t see anything,’ he said, perplexe
d.
‘Wait,’ said Kate softly. Daniel peered into the black space ahead of him.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he began to recognise shapes floating in the void. Slowly he identified the gentle, faint flicker of lights as each shape metamorphosed into the silhouette of an island set against a blue-black sea. He gazed in astonishment as the lights grew brighter.
Before long he could make out thousands of tiny islands, all glittering in the night.
He turned slowly; from every angle, stretching out into infinity, lay countless islands.
‘I don’t... are they all...?’
‘Just like us, Daniel. And all of them are celebrating tonight, dancing and drinking with abandon. And on every island you’ll find an Atheenaton with its Véroniques and Kates and Daniels, each consumed with their own grief, each surrendering their sorrow for one night.’
Daniel watched in silence. Below him the musicians had resumed their playing, but the music was barely audible on the peak. He clasped Kate’s hand tightly. He knew that he had had too much to drink, and that he was therefore prone to sentimentality, but even so, the sight had moved him deeply, and he found the words he wanted to say caught up in the back of his throat.
‘I didn’t realise... so many islands. So many people.’
‘Everyone needs sanctuary now and then, Daniel; you’re not alone.’
Are they - the islands - all like Atheenaton?’
‘Each person comes to the place that is most suited to their problems. You chose Atheenaton.’
‘I did?’
‘Certainly.’ Kate smiled. ‘So, have you decided yet?’
‘Decided?’
‘What you’re celebrating?’
Daniel looked down at the ground and breathed in deeply. He stood there for several moments, just gazing at his feet. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by emotion, by the thought that he might one day have to leave Atheenaton, to say goodbye to Kate and Barry and Kostas. And Véronique. The thought that his departure would, in some way, be his reward for having solved whatever problems had brought him here in the first instance, was of no solace at all. If being healed meant leaving Atheenaton, he wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to get better.
Daniel peered into the deep, dark night. Eventually he looked at Kate and shrugged.
‘I’ll let you know,’ he said sadly, and then, still staggering, started back down to the village.
Chapter 20
When Lisanne got home she found Daniel fast asleep on the sofa. Her immediate response was to wake him up; the knowledge that he was off somewhere in his own little world, happy and presumably without a care, was about as much as she could stand. How dare he escape like that, running off into his own pathetic little fantasy, leaving a trail of destruction behind him? Didn’t he have any idea of the misery he was causing?
She took her jacket off and hung it on the end of the banister, then walked over to where Daniel was snoring contentedly. She stood over him for a moment, wondering whether she dared to disturb him. She knew that for many months Daniel had had to contend with nothing but demons in his sleep. She had lost count of the number of times since the accident that she had had to stroke his brow to calm his torment.
Knowing this - and despite the misery he had put her through - she could not bring herself to wake him. She looked down at him and sighed. He would put her in an institution at this rate, she was sure.
She was just about to tiptoe away when she noticed the book lying face down on the carpet beside the sofa: it was Greek Idyll. Lisanne felt her heart skip a beat. She leant down and picked up the book; an old Underground ticket acting as a bookmark confirmed that Daniel was two-thirds of the way through. An icy chill gripped the back of her neck like a steel claw. Had she been asked why this small discovery so disconcerted her, she would have been hard pressed to find a rational explanation. All she knew was that there was something wilfully perverse - deranged, perhaps - about this choice of reading matter.
Was it possible that Robert’s book was having some subliminal effect on Daniel? Was he replaying the events of the novel in his subconscious, with himself as hero? It was too strange to contemplate. With a shudder, Lisanne replaced the book on the floor, but as she did so Daniel awoke with a start and, seeing Lisanne bending over him so closely, yelled out. Lisanne leapt back in astonishment.
‘It’s only me,’ she said hastily, unable to hide the hurt in her voice: Daniel had screamed when he saw her; if ever there was an ill omen...
‘Oh God, what are you doing? You frightened me half to death!’
Daniel sat up swiftly and swung his legs off the sofa. He took a deep breath and sank his face in his hands.
‘Sorry,’ said Lisanne pathetically. ‘I’ve only just got in. I saw you asleep and... I’m sorry.’
She turned to leave. Daniel’s outburst had shocked her. She could feel her hands shaking and felt close to tears, but she was damned if she was going to let him see her cry. She strode over to the staircase and paused for a moment on the bottom stair.
‘Just one question, Daniel. Why are you reading that book again? Just explain that, will you?’
Daniel turned and stared at her. ‘What do you mean, “again”? I haven’t read this book before.’
‘Oh yes you have. Robert’s one of my authors. You read it in manuscript - or at least, you tried - last year. I can’t believe you don’t remember. You hated it.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘You’re wrong.’
‘Don’t tell me I’m wrong, Daniel! I know! I brought the book home to read. We even discussed it. I remember you saying that it read like a parody of The Magus, which, incidentally, none of the reviewers seemed to pick up on. You tore it to shreds. I can’t believe you’d want to give it a second look. Well?’
But Daniel did not answer. He picked the book up from where Lisanne, in her panic, had dropped it, and gazed at the cover.
‘And another thing,’ said Lisanne, now emboldened by her anger. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this dream of yours?’
Daniel looked up at her, clearly shocked. ‘How...?’
‘Vince told me about it. Why did I have to find out from Vince? Why don’t you trust me for God’s sake?’
Daniel’s mouth went dry. He tried to clear his throat, but the shock and the embarrassment of being found out had unnerved him. ‘I didn’t want to burden you. You’ve got enough troubles.’
‘But I could have helped you.’
‘I don’t want help, Lisanne. Don’t you see? I don’t want to be helped or healed. I don’t want to be released or absolved or any of those things. I just want...’
Daniel did not finish his sentence. Lisanne watched with growing unease as he stood up slowly and, deeply absorbed in his own preoccupations, dragged himself across the room to the bottom of the stairs.
‘I’m tired,’ he muttered as he shuffled past her. ‘I’m just so tired.’
Without further explanation, he headed straight to the bedroom.
Chapter 21
Daniel wandered into the Pumphouse. It was dark inside, save for a single candle flickering on a table near the back. Through the gloom he could make out the silhouettes of several people huddled together; if they were talking, they were doing so not much above a whisper. Daniel walked over slowly. He couldn’t understand why the lights weren’t on, why there was no music. Had there been a power cut?
‘Hi,’ he called out. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Hello, Daniel.’
He recognised Kate’s voice. ‘Come and join us,’ she said.
As he neared the table he made out the familiar faces of Barry, Kostas and Imogen. Imogen was playing distractedly with an empty glass and staring at the table; she didn’t look up when Daniel sat down. Barry was smoking a cigarette; his legs were crossed and he leant back in his chair, blowing the smoke out slowly so that it spiralled up into the rising heat and light of the candle. Kostas was tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table and
looking at the floor, his face half-shadowed in the wavering light of the candle. It took a few moments for Daniel to realise that something was wrong; save for his own moods and tantrums, everyone else in Atheenaton always acted as if life was one long party; he rarely saw a long face.
‘What’s up? Is the electricity down?’
‘Nah,’ said Barry softly. ‘Let me get you something to drink, Daniel. How about a scotch?’ Barry sounded tired, very tired, as if he had been awake for several days; Daniel felt suddenly uncomfortable.
‘Sure, scotch would be fine,’ he said, pulling a chair up to the table beside Kate. ‘Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?’
Daniel's Dream Page 23