PART THREE
March 1986
O N E
Crito, we owe a cock to Aesculapius. Please
pay it,
and don't let it pass
—Socrates
"I dreamt it."
"It doesn't seem possible."
"But there it is."
Ella and Honora, heads together, huddle in secrecy in the panelled snug of Belfast's Crown, sipping creamy black stout that left thin white moustaches of foam on their upper lips.
"But he was never in your bed, or close to it?"
"Ella, I was dreaming, but I wasn't drunk. I wasn't interested in him. Apart from that dreamthing Brad never got near enough, and neither did anyone else. If it had been Lee things could have been different."
"I always knew that you had something for each other."
"I could never have stolen him away from you Ella. He was starry-eyed."
"But this thing with Brad; it was rape."
"Yes. At least that's what I thought then, and for a long time afterwards. But he said I could have stopped it if I'd wanted. It was a mind thing, and I let it happen. I've thought about it a lot since. I don't know if he's right."
"But you were paralyzed; he was stronger and he took advantage. It's no different from the real thing."
"It might as well have been the real thing."
"That's the part that doesn't seem possible."
"You see! Even you doubt me! You've had experience of dreaming, you've been there. You know how it is—but you can't bring yourself to believe that I got pregnant because of something that happened on dreamside. Maybe she was drunk, maybe she can't remember, maybe she just doesn't want to admit it, I've had plenty of time to try them all on. How could I expect anyone else to accept this, if you of all people can't see it?"
"Honora, I do believe you; I have to believe you. Like you said, I've got some experience of this, but even for me it seems like a long time ago and sometimes I don't even know how much of it was true."
"It was all true, all right. The pregnancy was confirmed, absolutely. No question of error."
"But you lost the baby? It miscarried? Was that before or after you took an overdose?"
"After. It was the pregnancy that made me do it. I was going mad. You don't know what it was like. I thought I might have the baby; then I thought it might be born with two heads or not even human at all. And me a good Catholic girl. At least, I was then. Anyway, the suicide attempt induced the miscarriage. It was finished."
Ella put a hand on Honora's.
"You'd best be moving if you really want to catch that ferry. Will you let me know what Lee found out about you-know-who? Though I'll tell you something Ella, I didn't have a bad dream or a repeater while you were here. Maybe they've stopped again after all. God help us, I hope so."
"I hope so too Honora. Now, no more grieving about lost babies, OK? Promise?"
"No more grieving. I mean, if she were out there now, she'd forgive me, wouldn't she?"
"Just try not to think about it."
"Right. No more grieving."
"You'll come over to England and see us?"
"I'll try."
"I don't want try, I want promise."
"Perhaps when I get a few days' holiday . . . Easter."
"Easter. That's a promise and I'll keep you to it."
Outside the Crown they walked to the car park and kissed, something they would never have done in student days. Age softens as much as it hardens, thought Ella. She got into her Midget and raced back.
She arrived at Lee's cottage before midnight. He had heard the car and was standing silhouetted in the doorway. The hall was spiced with the smell of the curry which simmered on the stove, a hint of whiskey on Lee as Ella squeezed his hand and went by him into the lounge.
He poured strong drinks and served up the curry. They caught up in shorthand, then finished the meal in silence. Ella took her glass and sat on the floor in front of the open fire while Lee massaged her aching shoulders. The fire sparked and flickered hypnotically.
"So it could be him?" Ella said lazily.
"It could be; he's fallen into a well. I never got near enough to second-guess him. It wasn't the fond reunion. He's been that way so long his face has gone whiskey coloured."
"But he's had the dreams?"
"Oh, he's had the dreams all right; there was a very scared Brad inside that alcohol. He made a little speech about unwanted visitors, but I didn't know whether he was talking about me or the dreams."
"But is he bringing them on? Has he been back there?"
"That's the question. Whatever it is, he seems to think that they've started to get up and walk. He kept staring out of his window at the empty cottage next door. Looking for enemies.”
"What did your instincts say?"
"Too frightened. What about her?"
"She was definitely holding out on me. I'm sure it's her. She gave me as much of the story as she thought would keep me satisfied. Rationed it out, right up until the end. But there's more, I'm sure of it."
"So it's Honora."
"I could be wrong."
"It's all we've got to go on. So how was the journey?"
"I had some bad feelings on the way over. Then when I got to Ireland it was OK. Honora was warm after she'd recovered from the shock of seeing me. It brought a lot of things back."
"Me too.Seeing Brad, even in that state."
"It brought back things about us, too."
"All of it?"
"Everything."
Lee kissed Ella's neck. "I never really figured why or how it ended."
"Well," Ella smiled, "we never really forgave each other for being only human."
"One day you were gone, then there were three postcards, and then thirteen years had passed."
"The postcards! I remember trying to fill them with anything but what really mattered."
They lapsed into silence. Ella felt Lee's loneliness dangerously close to the surface.
"You were never out of my mind. All the years."
"Stop talking about it. Come here. We can make the years fall away." She smiled again, and put her hand inside his shirt. "Do you remember a certain game we used to play?"
"Of course I remember”.
Ella pulled him down on to the rug and they made love. It was clean, hungry sex. They pretended nothing had changed, that they were back in Ella's scented cave and that the amber light from the fire was the dawn breaking through the heavy curtains of their old world. They could be childlike again. They could pretend to be victims of a fold in the ordinary sequence of time, with the intervening thirteen years as a long cold night. Pretending was good, and each could pretend as well as the other, and the game of pretending didn't devour the way that dreaming devoured.