Veiled Dreams

by Gill James

  Queen Benelov was holding Imigriana back. ‘You’d better go,’ she said quietly to Christina.

  Christina turned and started to make her way to her own room. Her head was beginning to throb now and she felt slightly sick. Then the tears began. It was all just getting worse. She took deep gulps of breath, to try to calm herself down, but it was no use. This life here was strange, but there had been a lightness about it, too. It wasn’t just because of the sun shining either. She was beginning to understand and suddenly the old world had come back.

  All because of a motorbike, she thought.

  She gently pushed the door to her room open. It seemed strange now. It had begun to be home, but now it was just a nightmare again. Perhaps if she could get another bump on the head, she’d wake up from it and be back in her own world.

  No, silly, she’d just got a bump on the head and nothing had happened except that it hurt a bit.

  ‘Mona, Mona, what shall I do?’ she whispered. But Mona did not appear.

  Christina looked at herself in the mirror. There were streaks though the talcum powder and quite a lump forming where the bowl had hit her. She rubbed the bump and winced at the pain.

  Suddenly she remembered the Budela.

  ‘Keep it light, ladies.’ Those were the words he had used. Then there was the talk about the three young men. What could that be about? Was Leonis one of them? Was Imigriana right about Philaderan? And the third?

  No, it was nonsense. It was all stupid. This whole thing. This world. She must just be dreaming. If she went away…if she starved, disappeared. Literally. This was just a dream. She would wake up soon. What had really happened after that car hit her?

  A draft blew through the open window and on it came the scent off the small orange flowers, which grew just outside. It was just a shadow of how they smelt in the evenings, but there all the same.

  That seems real enough, though, she thought. It wasn’t going to be so easy to get out of this place. It was obeying all the rules of physics. It was more than a dream.

  If only she could see Mona again. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps she should make her way to the city. Yes, that was what she must do. Going there…well she could find Mona or even find out more about the prophecy. Yes, that was the thing to do.

  She would have to have a plan, though. She looked in the mirror. She was much too recognisable as she was now. Besides, a girl travelling alone – that would never happen. She would have to pretend to be an old woman, or better still a servant, a young male servant.

  She unwound her veil. If she slit the bottom of her under leggings, they would look like the trousers the men wore. She felt in the drawer for the needlework Queen Benelov had encouraged her to start. That was all that she’d done – started it. She just didn’t sew. But at least there was a pair of scissors in with it. She quickly unpicked the narrow hem holding the cord and pulled it out. She made a small nick at the top of the middle of her veil and then tore it in half, then another small nick half way on its depth, and tore it in half the other way. She wound it carefully round her head into the turban with the loose cloth at the back, which all the young male servants wore. Her under vest looked convincing enough as a shirt – except for one thing.

  I’ll have to do something about them, she thought, looking at her breasts. She slid the vest back over her head, and took the other half of her veil and pulled it tightly so that it flattened her chest. She managed to fasten it at the back with not too bulky a knot. Then she pulled the vest back on.

  ‘Not bad,’ she mumbled at herself in the mirror.

  She would need desert boots, and water, of course. Some food would be good. And of course, she must take the chalice so would need a bag. She would have to sneak into the servants’ quarters and borrow something from there.

  She stuffed the chalice into the top of her trousers, pulling the vest over it to hide it. She looked carefully out of the door. There was no one in the corridor. This looked like a good time to move. Most of the servants were busy. Queen Benelov was still occupied with Imigriana. King Tutoralph was probably reading or perhaps he was in a meeting

  She held her breath as she saw a real servant coming the other way. She was sure he would be able to hear how fast her heart was beating. But he just nodded briefly as he passed, so that had worked okay. She just had to hope now that there was no one in the servants’ rest room. They would find it odd to see her taking desert boots and a bag. If anyone was there, they would be bound to ask what she was doing and she was not sure she could come up with a convincing reply.

  She managed to get as far as the servants’ hall without meeting anyone else. She listened for a few seconds at the door. It didn’t seem as if there was anyone there. Carefully she opened the door. The room was empty. Someone had been there a few minutes before. A bucket of steaming water stood in the middle of the room. Perhaps they would come back for it soon. She must work quickly.

  She looked at the neatly stacked boots and shoes. They were all clean and highly polished. How did they manage to do that? They were always so busy. Yet this room was far tidier than any of the living rooms at the palace.

  That pair looked as if it would fit. Quickly she pulled them on. Well, they were a bit loose but perhaps they would do. Her feet would probably swell. She hoped she wouldn’t get blisters. Now, what could she do for a bag? A large haversack was hanging from a peg – the very thing. It smelt a bit of fish, but it would have to do. Taking it carefully down, she placed the chalice in the bottom. Now for some food, she thought, and most importantly, water.

  The servants’ pantry was just off the rest room. She looked inside. There were some stone water bottles. She quickly filled a couple up. There were some containers of dried fruit, too, so she stuffed as much as could into the bag. That would have to do.

  So this was it. She was really going.

  She crept out of the door again. The corridor was still empty. What luck. She almost ran now. Best get out before anybody realised she was missing or before they looked too closely at her.

  She had almost reached the outside door when she heard footsteps coming towards her from one of the side passages. Whoever it was wore shoes, she could tell by the sound. It must be one of the family. The footsteps got nearer and turned the corner and suddenly she was face to face with Lydia.

  ‘Do we need more fish? Didn’t you catch enough yesterday?’ Lydia stared at Christina and frowned.

  Christina kept her eyes on the ground. She ought to say something, but she couldn’t think what and she was afraid Lydia would recognise her voice. She felt naked now without her veil. Who would have thought it? Please let me go, she thought.

  ‘Hm. Well,’ continued Lydia. ‘I suppose it won’t hurt. Maybe it will tempt the princess’s appetite. Go on then, get about your business. Don’t dawdle, young man.’

  Young man! Lydia had called her young man. So, her disguise was convincing.

  Christina walked out of the door. Only then did she realise that she did not have a particular plan about where she was going to go. The desert was in front of her and the city was to the south. She would have to follow the sun; soon, it would be very hot.

  There was no way she would be able to walk for long in this. It would be best to make her way over to the fish lake and rest in the shade until at least the sun started going down. Even that would seem a long way at this time of day. Still, it did mean that there wouldn’t be any other people around. Even the servants would normally stay in the cool of the palace.

  It was harder walking than she could have imagined. Even in the sturdy boots, her feet slipped into the sand until it was almost over her ankles. The bag soon became heavy and the strap started to dig into her shoulder. She drank some of the water, as much to make the bag lighter as to quench her thirst, but that hardly helped.

  I must be mad, she thought. For a few seconds she wished she could go back to the palace. But life could never be the same again there. What she had done was terrible.

/>   Eventually, she arrived at the lake. She pulled off her boots and dangled her sore feet into the cool water. The trees gave her plenty of shade. The grass was soft. She pulled her legs back out of the lake and lay on her back. In a few seconds, she was asleep.

  When she woke up, hours later, the sun was beginning to set and it was becoming distinctly chilly.

  Time to move, thought Christina. Then it occurred to her; without the sun how was she going to know which way to go? Did it all work like back in her own world? If so, the bright red disc was in the west, so to go south to the city she must keep it to her right. What would she do when it was completely dark? If only she knew something about the stars. Then, she couldn’t be sure that the stars here were the same as those back home. How stupid of her not to think of what to do about the cold in the middle of the night.

  There was nothing for it; she would have to return. She looked back towards the palace. She couldn’t really see it but there was a faint glow where it should have been. She guessed the torches and candles were being lit and soon the electric lights would be on indoors. She wished she could be there, laughing and chatting with Imigriana. But probably Imigriana wouldn’t want anything to do with her.

  No, she couldn’t go back. Perhaps she could live here for a while. Hide. They didn’t come here all that often – just once a week to tend to and catch the fish. A week might give her enough time to think of something else. What should she do about the cold? It wasn’t quite so bad here, as it could be out in the desert, but it wasn’t like back at the palace where the evenings were warm.

  Perhaps she could build a shelter, somewhere hidden in the trees. That would keep her warm. She didn’t need to sleep now, not after that long siesta.

  She started to look for long branches to build a frame. Soon she had eight or nine and started to prop them together. Perhaps she could make a type of wigwam. The branches kept slipping, and she couldn’t work out how to fix them together anyway. Soon she was covered in scratches and her hands and arms were dirty.

  This is hopeless, she thought. I’m never going to be able to do this. She sat down for a minute and tried to stop the tears, which were stinging her eyes. This is such a mess.

  She heard a twig snap behind her. She held her breath.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she heard a young male voice say.

  She clutched at the ground. Who could it be?

  The man stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, and dressed in a dark green silk tunic. His long leather desert boots looked new and expensive.

  ‘Imigriana?’ he said. He laughed. ‘Don’t look so scared. Don’t you recognise me? What are you doing out here anyway?’

  He hadn’t been fooled, whoever he was. No wonder, the band was no longer holding her chest flat and her headdress had slipped. She hadn’t noticed because she could feel a tightness around her head anyway.

  It was going to happen again. She was going to have another fit. She felt for her pocket, but the pocket had gone. She must have torn it. There was nothing she could do now. Just as she felt the room begin to close around her, the light caught the stranger’s hair. It was Jan, come to get her back. But why had he called her Imigriana?

  He turned away from her. She wanted to call out.

  The room seemed different this time. She was aware that she was lying on a bed. Something was sticking in her arm. She looked to see what it was. There was a tube coming from bag of liquid. A machine was making a strange beeping noise. It was more real this time.

  She wanted him to turn back to her. She tried to call. Then the room changed to the normal one and she was imprisoned.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jan

  ‘Like I said, Mr De Vries, only close family are allowed to visit.’

  ‘But I’m her boyfriend, for fuck’s sake,’ said Jan, banging his fist down on the counter separating him from the po-faced hospital clerk. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, of course. He used to be her boyfriend. And he wanted to be again. He would talk to her and explain everything, over and over again until she got it, until she understood and woke up. Clear up all the misunderstandings. They said that people in a coma could often hear.

  ‘Your name’s not on the list. Just Mr and Mrs Grant and Paul Grant,’ replied the clerk frowning.

  ‘Well, is there anybody with her now?’ asked Jan. This was ridiculous. He’d kept out of the way of the Grants. But he’d been to the hospital every single day, and sat with her if there was nobody else there. The family were going less and less now. Mr and Mrs Grant had gone back to work, but one of them came most evenings. Paul was back at school, but came round after school two or three days a week. Yet Jan had been here every day and the other three clerks who worked at the ward desk on a rota basis had been understanding and let him in. This one was new on the job and a proper job’s worth. He was looking at Jan as if he was something that the cat had brought in.

  The clerk sighed.

  ‘No there isn’t,’ he replied. ‘But I cannot let just anyone in without authorisation.’

  ‘Well, can’t you get that?’ asked Jan. ‘Isn’t there someone you can ring? For God’s sake, isn’t it supposed to help having someone talk to her all the time?’ Now the clerk was getting agitated. He sighed again.

  ‘I think the family want to keep her private in case there are any more seizures. But I’ll ring Doctor Jansen and see what I can do. Would you care to take a seat?’

  ‘No, I’ll stand,’ replied Jan. He was too full of energy to want to sit down. He must see her. He must talk to her. If this idiot of a clerk didn’t hurry up, Paul might arrive and he’d have no chance of being with her today. Jan pushed his hair from his face and began to pace backwards and forwards around the reception area.

  ‘I see,’ he heard the clerk say. ‘Unofficial?’

  He nodded a couple of times.

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell him, then.’

  Come on, come on, thought Jan. He just had to see her, every single day. It would be terrible if he didn’t.

  ‘Well, it seems…’ began the clerk.

  Too late, footsteps came along the corridor. Jan could already hear Mrs Grant’s high-pitched voice. Mrs Grant? What was she doing here at this time?

  The chatter stopped as the three members of the Grant family turned the corner. Paul was carrying a large birthday cake, and three packages wrapped in birthday paper. Jan went hot all over. It wasn’t her birthday was it and he’d forgotten? No, surely not – not for a couple of months.

  The three members of the Grant family stared at him.

  ‘Hi Jan,’ said Paul at last. ‘It’s my birthday today. We thought we’d have a little party in Christina’s room. It would be a shame not to let her join in the fun. Are you going to come along?’

  Jan didn’t know what to say. He was aware that Mrs Grant was staring at him and her eyes didn’t exactly look friendly.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she shouted at Jan. ‘She was holding a pot of some muck from Pandora’s Potions when it happened. Trying to make herself look good to attract scum like you.’

  ‘Steady on, love,’ said Mr Grant. ‘I’m sure he means her no harm.’

  Mrs Grant started sobbing.

  ‘I think it might be better if you came back later,’ whispered Mr Grant.

  ‘No!’ shouted Mrs Grant. ‘That’s my baby in there. She’s too young.’

  ‘I only want to help, Mrs Grant,’ said Jan. ‘I wouldn’t hurt her.’

  ‘We know,’ said Mr Grant, putting his arm round Mrs Grant’s shoulder. ‘Give the lad a chance. It might do her good to listen to somebody outside the family. You know what the doctor said.’

  Mrs Grant nodded. She seemed to get herself back under control.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘All right. But can you come back in an hour? When we’ve had our little celebration.’

  Jan nodded. They went into the room. This was going to be a long hour. He watched through the window for a while
. He saw Paul unpack the cake. Mrs Grant sat at Christina’s side and held her hand. Mr Grant appeared to be telling some sort of joke and laughed at himself. Jan couldn’t bear to look anymore. He started to jog, first along the corridors and out of the main entrance to the hospital, and then round and round the grounds until he was out of breath. He sat for a while on a bench in the small rock garden near the side entrance.

  The Grants were just leaving when the hour was eventually up and he arrived back at Christina’s room. Mrs Grant nodded curtly.

  ‘Well, we had a great party,’ Paul said. ‘Pity she couldn’t have some of that chocolate cake. That was something else!’

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ said Mr Grant. His voice was hoarse. He looked right into Jan’s eyes, and then looked away. ‘Maybe you’ll get through to her. We can’t,’ he said to the floor tiles.

  They walked away, all three looking at the ground and their shoulders slightly hunched. Jan opened the door to Christina’s room and quietly made his way in.

  If only she could breathe on her own. That would be something at least. He’d read up all about it. That would mean part of her brain was working normally. It would suggest that she would recover eventually. But would she? Would she come back?

  The beep-beep of the machine that was monitoring her heartbeat was soothing, somehow. Her heart beat strongly.

  Jan sat down at the side of her bed. He took her hand in his. It was warm but otherwise lifeless.

  ‘Where are you, sweetheart?’ he whispered. ‘Please come back to us.’

  He leant forward and half stood. He pushed her hair away from her face and leant over and kissed her forehead.

  ‘You’re still beautiful,’ he said. ‘Even though you’re so deeply asleep.’ He sat back down and leant across the bed, pulling her arm a little more towards him and tucking it under own. He looked up at the drip, which was connected to her arm.

  ‘Hey, you’re doing well today,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re eating properly. Keep up your strength for when you wake up.’ He could have sworn he could actually see the liquid going down. He supposed it was hot in there, so she would need a lot of fluid to stop her becoming dehydrated. But wasn’t that even more proof that her apparently paralysed body was still working well?