Dream a Little Dream (12 page)

I hear Carly lick her lips like she’s about to speak, but still there’s a moment before any sound actually makes it out, as though she’s really weighing up whether she should share whatever is troubling her.

She sighs heavily.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she says flatly.

We both stop breathing as those words are released into the room.

I can’t see her face because her head is still resting above my boobs, and I’m really glad she can’t see mine, because as soon as those words are released into the room my jaw drops in shock. That’s not what I was expecting. At all.

‘What? You sure?’

‘That’s what the tests say,’ she squeaks, as she sits up and turns to look at me.

I rearrange my face into something that seems a little
less horrified – which is good as I’m sure she’s looking at me so closely to gauge my reaction.

‘And you’ve double-checked?’ I ask.

‘Yep. Peed on a stick fourteen times – I’m one hundred per cent up the duff … there’s a bun cooking in my oven.’

‘Whoa.’

‘Whoa?’ She exclaims. ‘Sarah, what am I going to do? Me, with a baby? That’s crazy.’

My mind wanders back to the dream I had with the dozens of serene mothers and the abandoned baby in the empty lift – I wonder if some part of me had picked up on what was going on with Carly without me realizing. Perhaps it wasn’t my own maternal instincts I’ve been picking up on … Or is that loading too much significance on the crazy world of sleep? Possibly. Although the fun I’ve been having in them lately – there’s no way I want to brush them off as a collection of leftover thoughts waiting to be discarded by a busy brain. No, no, no … crazy space sex is the way forward, even if my dreams do leave me gagging for it and highly frustrated when I wake up.

‘Who’s the dad?’ I ask, refocusing on the conversation in hand and trying to remember whether Carly’s been on any dates in the last month or so. I’m pretty sure she’s not brought anyone back here (not that I know of anyway), but has she stayed out at all?

‘I can’t say right now,’ she frowns, biting her lip.

‘Does he know?’

‘Yeah,’ she nods. ‘I told him straight away.’

‘And?’

‘I think he needs some time to think …’ her voice peters
out, so she shrugs instead and fiddles with her hands in her lap. ‘What a mess.’

‘How long have you known?’

‘A week. Slightly longer. It was fine at first. I didn’t feel any different. I only did the test because I was a bit late – I didn’t actually expect it to come back positive. And these tests – they actually say the word pregnant. There’s no faffing around or getting it wrong – it’s there for you in bold writing for you to cry over.’ She shakes her head manically as the tears threaten to spill once more. ‘God, I’ve been so emotional!’

‘I can see that.’

‘Seriously, I’ve been feeling so sick. It’s awful. And the bloating? I feel like I’m six months gone already.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘I ripped my skirt!’

‘Oh God!’ I laugh, remembering the night she had to come back to the house to change.

‘My body just changed overnight. It’s bonkers.’ She pauses and looks at me with a bewildered half-smile, her eyes sad and worried. ‘There’s just so much to think about, you know?’

I nod, but the truth is I can’t even begin to imagine the thoughts that are going through my best friend’s head.

‘I don’t know how you’ve kept this to yourself.’

‘It wasn’t easy, in fact that’s been one of the hardest things.’

‘So none of our group know?’

She shakes her head.

‘Shit … this is massive.’

‘Life changing.’

‘Yeah …’

‘No more wild nights out, no more going travelling with just my backpack for company … that’s it. Still, I guess I always knew I’d have to settle down and grow up some time.’

‘How will your parents take it?’

‘Oh, they’ll be fine – delighted even. I’m not worried about them at all.’

Carly’s parents met working on a cruise ship. She was the result of a quick bonk on her dad’s last day on board. He didn’t even know about Carly until he heard through someone at work that her mum had given birth. In what then became one of the most romantic stories of all time, he hunted her down and proposed to her on her front doorstep. Twenty-eight years and two more children later they’re still going strong despite the unconventional start, and now run a guesthouse in the Lake District. So it’s not too surprising to think they’d deal with the situation with compassion and love – unlike my own mother, who’d probably disown me.

‘Do you want me to stay home today?’ I offer, knowing that the suggestion is far from ideal, but something I would do without question if she wanted me to. ‘You know me – I’d do anything for a day on the sofa,’ I shrug.

‘No, you’re all right.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. Besides, isn’t today an important one for you?’

‘Slightly,’ I smile, pursing my lips at the thought of leaving her like this. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

‘Yeah … I’m just not ready to go to work yet. I’d rather immerse myself in crappy TV and live in denial a little longer.’

‘You take your time.’

Carly nods in agreement, breathes in deeply and exhales with force.

‘You’ll get through this. You’ve got all us guys around you.’

She breaks down into sobs once more.

It’s heartbreaking to see my strong, funny and carefree friend in such a vulnerable, frightened and sickly state.

I throw my arms around her shaking shoulders and hold her.

I’m a mixture of emotions when I finally leave the house – I’m worried about Carly and all of the life-changing decisions that must be clogging up her brain right now, but I’m also still giddy from last night’s dream and excitedly nervous for the day ahead.

With the sun shining as I make my way to the tube, I can’t help but feel positive about what’s in store. I feel like skipping along the canal, sliding down the escalators on the Underground, spinning around the poles on the trains and clicking my heels all the way up to the office front door.

Today is going to be a good day, I tell myself as I arrive at my desk fifteen minutes early.

With a grin I grab the notebook and pen from my bag and pop them to the side of my computer before heading to the loo to ensure I’m one hundred per cent ready when Jonathan and the newbie walk through the door. Unfortunately, I never did get time for that blowdry this morning so had to opt for plan B and a high bun instead – it’s not one to rival the awesomeness of Alastair’s man bun, but at least my hair isn’t all frizzy and in my face.

‘Is he here yet?’ Julie asks as she speed-walks in the door ten minutes after me, looking flushed from her commute.

‘Who?’

‘Brett.’

‘Brett?’ I ask. I know there is more than one Brett in the world, but even so – given my crazy nightly escapades with Brett Last the name still catches me by surprise and makes me wonder if I’m actually still dreaming.

‘Yes, Brett. Dominique’s replacement – is he here yet?’ Julie asks again, looking around the empty office. ‘I’m guessing not,’ she concludes, taking her bag off her shoulder and hastily placing it underneath her desk.

‘No, he’s not.’

‘He struck me as someone who’d be early to everything,’ she continues, removing her camel trench coat and wool scarf and hanging them on the hook outside Derek’s door. ‘No doubt he’s waiting up the road, having a coffee – not wanting to be first into the office.’

‘Maybe,’ I reply.

‘Hopefully not the last in, though,’ she chuckles to herself.

Clearly I’m not the only person excited about today.

‘What’s he like then?’ I ask, realizing that I’ve been so consumed in myself over the last week that I haven’t actually asked much about the new member of the team. Probably because I haven’t wanted to hear all the great things that bagged him the job – and, in turn, realize the qualities that I clearly lack.

‘Oh he’s lovely. Really handsome, too,’ winks Julie.

‘Really?’ I ask, raising my eyebrows at her in disbelief.

‘Really,’ she laughs.

Julie’s taste is somewhat questionable – a fact I usually tease her over, so I decide to wait and see for myself.

In the distance I hear the buzzer go off and Shirley welcoming someone in.

‘There he is,’ chimes Julie, beginning to totter over to reception excitedly. ‘Told you he wouldn’t be last.’

I glance over at reception to watch Julie greet the man who squandered my chances of promotion, and my heart stops.

Surely not.

How?

I must still be dreaming.

This can’t be happening.

This has to be some sort of weird dream within a dream – I’ve had them before and it’s incredibly freaky when you think you’re awake but you’re not. Surely that’s what’s occurring now, because the truth is too baffling to comprehend.

Brett Last is standing in the reception of Red Brick – in the office, where I work – and is shaking my colleague Julie’s hand.

Actual.

Brett.

Last.

‘This is Sarah,’ I hear Julie say as she turns back to me with Brett’s hand still in hers.

I’ve no choice but to walk over to them.

‘Hi,’ I say, my voice shaking slightly as I animatedly wave my hands in the air like an early-morning CBBC presenter.

I immediately hate myself.

And there he is … Brett Last, Real Brett, looking over at me and holding out a hand for me to shake.

I put my hand in his and offer the flimsiest of handshakes – it’s appalling and droopy – but my mind is elsewhere, trying to absorb him and make sense of the
situation I’ve somehow found myself in and trying not to hyperventilate over the fact that I’m having actually physical contact with Brett Last. My subconscious mind has turned him into a celebrity – I might as well be stood in front of the god that is Ryan Gosling and having him recite lines from
The Notebook
to me, I’d be just as gormless and awestruck.

Although this Brett is different. Not hugely, but there are tiny differences that I can’t help but notice – he’s a smidge smaller in both height and body-mass, for a start – he’s still tall (and taller than me), but as I stand next to him I’m aware that he’s not the six-foot-five guy from my dreams. Maybe more six foot one or two … His blond hair has turned to a mousey brown with age, and there are definite flecks of grey running through it.

And then there are his eyes …

His hazelnut eyes aren’t how I remembered them at all – they’re still sparkly and friendly, but they’re green. Green. Just Green. Not the stripy pools of golden brown that make my heart skip a beat. And then there are the wrinkles that crease around them, reminding me, along with those grey flecks, that he is ten years older than he appears in my memory and in my dreams …

He’s a man. A really hunky and attractive
real
man that I’ve been sort of dating during my sleeping hours.

Well, that’s a headfuck.

Even though he’s not exactly the guy I’ve been dreaming of, he
is
the guy I’ve been dreaming of and the expression on his face tells me that I am most definitely looking at him in a way that is peculiar and making him feel uncomfortable.

I collect my jaw from the floor and swallow the saliva that’s gathered in my mouth.

‘Do we know each other,’ he asks slowly whilst squinting at me, waving his finger between us in confusion.

‘Erm …’ I say with a frown and slight shake of the head, trying to buy my discombobulated brain some time.

‘Did you go to UCL?’

‘No, Sarah went to Leicester, didn’t you, dear,’ offers Julie with a wink when I’m too baffled to answer.

‘Leicester! That’s it,’ he nods thoughtfully, putting his hands back into the pockets of his suit trousers. ‘My mate’s brother went there and we trekked up a few times. Ned, you know him – Alastair’s brother.’

That’s it! Alastair’s brother Ned! He used to go up to see Alastair all the time in the first year before Ned got a job abroad – no wonder I thought Brett was a friend of someone’s at the university.

‘Yes, I know him,’ I manage, swallowing again. ‘We’re still good friends.’

‘Ah, do you know how Ned is? I hardly see him any more, I just catch up with him on Facebook every now and then.’

‘You’re on Facebook?’ I ask, startled. Having looked him up several times and found nothing, I was sure he wasn’t on there. I’m flummoxed that my natural stalking abilities have missed him.

‘Isn’t everyone?’

‘I am!’ Julie interrupts, popping her hand in the air with a smile. ‘We can add each other later. Do you want to come with me, Brett? I’ll show you to your desk and you can get settled in before Jonathan arrives. He won’t be long.’

‘Thanks,’ he says, taking a hand out of his pocket and picking up the rucksack at his feet, which has a black cycling helmet dangling off it. ‘What a small world,’ he muses to himself with a smile and a shake of the head.

I go back to my desk in shock. I’m not entirely sure how I pass the time, but ten minutes later Jonathan is shaking Real Brett’s hand and showing him to his office.

‘Coffee please, Sarah,’ he booms to me as he strides passed.

‘Certainly,’ I say, happy to be walking away from my desk and to have a menial job to occupy my brain with.

It doesn’t work.

I daydream while making the coffee and think of all the adventures I’ve had with Dream Brett over the past few weeks. Worse than falling for a fictional character, because at least then you know you’re never going to actually meet them because they don’t exist, my subconscious has taken the body of someone I used to know and turned them into my ideal man. Said ideal man is now in my actual life and I have an overwhelming attraction towards him thanks to all these memories of us wandering through Covent Garden hand in hand, or running away from overgrown reptiles … but none of it ever happened. I can’t actually be attracted and emotionally connected to the man sitting in Jonathan’s office because I don’t know him.

It’s all utterly ridiculous.

My thoughts turn to Carly and I wonder how she’s feeling now she’s offloaded to someone else. I should’ve just stayed at home and not bothered coming in today. I wish I had.

After taking a deep breath I wander into Jonathan’s office
with my tray of beverages. I hand Jonathan his milky coffee with two sugars, then steel myself as I give Real Brett his.

‘What’s that?’ he asks, frowning at the cup and looking utterly confused.

‘Espresso, one sugar,’ I mumble, realizing my error too late.

‘Oh no – I couldn’t drink that,’ Real Brett laughs, holding his hands up and refusing to take the drink from me. ‘I hate coffee. Sorry, I would’ve said only you ran off so quickly. Too efficient,’ he adds with a pursed smile.

Real Brett doesn’t drink coffee … well, that’s mildly confusing and bizarrely disappointing. But then, he isn’t Dream Brett – that really is a fact that I’m struggling to comprehend.

‘Oh, silly me!’ I flap, putting the drink back on the tray. ‘Would you like something else?’

As I catch his eye there’s a glimmer of something, a little spark of amusement. For a fleeting moment my heart surges as it occurs to me that I’m possibly living in some twisted universe where dreams and reality collide to make some weird augmented reality – and that Brett is just playing games with me and pretending to be this slightly altered figure of himself who hasn’t had those memorable encounters with me in the past few weeks.

‘No, I’m good with just water thanks,’ he says with a polite shrug, turning back to Jonathan.

Maybe not.

‘Sarah,’ Jonathan interrupts. ‘I know I said about you being in with Development today, but as it’s Brett’s first day, would you mind if he settled in first?’

‘No,’ I almost scream, relieved that I won’t have to be in
the boardroom with a guy who I’ve had space sex with – even if he hasn’t the foggiest that the event took place.

Space sex.

Oh gosh, my face turns crimson as I think about it with Real Brett stood next to me. My breath gets caught in my throat as my body reacts to the memory.

‘Are you okay, Sarah?’

‘Huh?’ I ask – worried they can read my mind and see all the devilishly horny and naughty things living in there.

‘You look like you’re burning up,’ adds Real Brett with concern.

‘Oh, my flatmate – she’s been ill. Probably caught something off her,’ I blurt.

Not bloody likely – unless it’s possible to get pregnant from dream sex, which I highly doubt.

‘Oh dear,’ frowns Jonathan, looking from me to Real Brett. ‘If it gets worse just let Julie know and head home – we can’t have everyone catching it.’

I’m not sure whether his offer is because he genuinely cares for my wellbeing, because he really doesn’t want to catch my faux bug, or because he’s just hoping to look good in front of Real Brett. Whatever it is, I’m thankful for the offer and smile feebly at him as I exit the room.

I manage a further forty-three minutes and seventeen seconds of clock watching before leaving to head home, promising to do some work from there instead.

Well, this little turn of events will certainly make Carly laugh.

When I get back to the flat I hear muffled voices coming from Carly’s bedroom.

‘I’m home,’ I shout, not wanting to hear anything I shouldn’t. Any other time I’d be all up for earwigging, but not today. Not with the bombshell she’s dropped.

Josh comes out of Carly’s bedroom looking sheepish with his head bowed.

‘Josh?’

‘Hey …’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I just came to talk to Carly.’

‘Oh …’ I think before saying this, but am pretty certain I’m okay in doing so – especially if he’s been looking after her. ‘So you know?’

‘Yeah …’ he sighs.

‘Massive,’ I reply.

‘Yep.’

‘Huge.’

‘Ah-ha …’

‘Sarah,’ Carly shouts before joining us in the hallway. ‘Stop being so stupid.’

Now I’m thrown – how did her being up the duff become about my intelligence?

‘What?’

‘Josh.’

‘Yes.’

‘Josh?’

‘What?’ I frown, getting annoyed – it’s already felt like an extremely stressful day and my brain can’t cope with being ridiculed.

‘It’s Josh!’

‘What is?’

‘Josh is the dad.’

Now I’m floored.

‘What? How?’ I stammer. ‘I mean, I get the how part … but, how?’

‘We’ve been getting closer for a while,’ starts Josh.

‘But you’ve always been close,’ I blurt, remembering the amount of time the two have spent together over the years. There’s been nothing to suggest that anything had happened between them or that their relationship had advanced beyond just friends.