The Dreamers (5 page)

‘I wish I could hear your voice. I’ve heard you singing but …’

Suddenly, the singing was there again: a soft, sweet voice singing Welsh words in her ear. They
were sung so softly, it was almost a whisper.

Ar lan y môr mae rhosys chochion

Ar
lan y môr mae lilis gwynion

Ar
lan y môr mae ‘nghariad inne

Yn
cysgu’r nos a choddi’r bore.

‘I don’t even know what that means,’ Jennifer said. ‘I wish I could understand.’ She turned on her side and gazed at the place she knew her lover was. There was not the slightest image of her but Jennifer knew she was there. She could feel her.

The voice came again, soft and sweet but this time it was only a whisper.

Beside the
sea there are red roses

Beside the
sea there’re lovely lillies

Beside the sea my sweetheart lives

Asleep at night, awake at morning.

‘Sweetheart,’ Jennifer repeated. She turned the word over and over on her tongue. ‘Sweetheart, sweetheart. What word is that? Tell me the welsh.’

‘Cariad’
, came the voice. ‘
Ar lan y môr mae ‘nghariad inne. Beside the sea my sweetheart lives.’

Jennifer turned her face into the warmth she could feel. ‘Am I your sweetheart? Or is there someone else? Who are you? Who do you see when you look at me? Who do you touch when I feel your caress?’

There was silence. Jennifer listened hard. She could feel no caress, no gaze upon her face, and she could hear no voice. There was silence.

Hot breath of a kiss on her cheek, whispered words.
‘You, fy nghariad’.

Jennifer closed her eyes and felt the embrace of her ghostly lover, felt her kisses and soft words, and knew she’d done the right thing.

Arianwen lies still in her bed. She gazes at the soft face of the woman with her head on Arianwen’s pillow. The woman is asleep and Arianwen can see her, can watch the flicker of her eyes behind her lids as she dreams. She knows this is imp
ossible, that this woman could not have come from nowhere into her house, into her life but she does not care. She just wants to drink in every detail about her, in case she never sees her again.

She has shoulder-length, slightly curly black hair. Her skin is darker than Arianwen’s, almost
tanned
. It does not mar her beauty. Her face is pretty but she has a strong jaw and a determined look to her. There is paint under her short fingernails and the smudge of pencil lead on her fingertips. Her body is slim and she is actually wearing trousers. Arianwen rubs her hand along the woman’s thighs. The material of the trousers is rough and course. They are a faded blue colour and look well-worn. She is not a rich person then.

Arianwen cannot take her eyes from her companion. She
has whispered soft words to her, sung to her like they had sung together at the piano. The woman heard her voice, responded to her.

‘Am I your sweetheart?’

‘Yes!’ Arianwen had wanted to shout, to fill the whole cottage, the whole village, the whole world with her proclamation. But her insides had filled with fear and she had shown herself to be a coward. Blodwyn did not want her, why should this woman, this stranger?

Then, in the silence, she had reached out and whispered her confession.
Fy nghariad
. This woman is her sweetheart. She feels a pull to her, some strange connection.

But
there is a distance between them. It is like these times alone with this woman are a world apart from her ordinary life. Arianwen is pulled between these two worlds and she does not know which way to go. Arianwen does not know what it means, only that she knows of no way to cross the distance. She is trapped.

J
ENNIFER WAS AVOIDING CERIS
. She hadn’t seen her since that day in the coffee shop, nearly a week ago now. It was at times like this that she wished her old dad was still around. He always knew how to deal with people. Jennifer knew that was one of her failings. She could make friends easily but she found it far too easy to say the wrong thing, before she’d even thought about it. And she never knew how to put it right.

Could she have broken it off with Ceris in a better way?
Maybe. Could she have thought it through before she’d started dancing with her like that, before she’d started kissing her, before she’d started rubbing against her. She’d had far too much to drink.

Jennifer sat in front of her easel at the back door, which opened onto her little garden. Beyond the garden, she could see the beach. The cove, for which the village
was named, was blue and sparkling. There was a curved beach, golden sand stretching out between the high cliffs. The sea moved gently. There was almost no wind down there. Jennifer adored the colours; the blues and greens all mixing in together fluidly.

She began to paint. She wanted to capture the peace of that quiet little beach. She longed to feel that peace inside her. She began to mix up her colours. The sea was so many shades of blue and green, she knew she could never capture all of them. She would be satisfied with capturing just an impression of it.

‘What do you think?’ she asked the empty room as she considered the blue green mix she’d created to use as a base. ‘Is that about right?’

The answer she got wasn’t with words. Instead, she
was rewarded with a skipping refrain on the piano.

She smiled. ‘I guess you approve then.’

Jennifer began to paint: slow, careful strokes across the canvass. She wanted to recreate the pleasure she felt whenever she looked at that view. She wanted to make herself feel at peace again.

As she painted, she wondered about her companion. She wanted to know more about her. She felt sure she was a real person, no matter what her logical mind said. She was learning about her, learning her soul or her spirit.

Her companion’s music filled the cottage: soft and lilting but tinged with sadness. They were communicating in a way deeper than words.

Jennifer smiled, painting and listening to that music. She felt at peace, that she could stay here forever. She would never have to face the world and its pain again.

‘Arianwen, will you go out and fetch the plaice from the fishmonger’s?’

‘Yes, mother,’ Arianwen says wearily.
The days hear stretch into one long expanse of time. She wishes there was something else to do besides play her piano, stare longingly out of her window and do errands for her mother.

Still, at least she gets
out of the house. She walks slowly up the hill, letting her footsteps count out the time. If she is careful, she can use up an hour of her day on this errand.

The
hill rises to its finish and Arianwen can see the spread of the village laid out before her. She was born in this village and she is sure she will die here. Every moment of her life, her love, her loneliness, her boredom, they have all been here. When she has gone, will the village remember her?

She has walked along these rough tracks, a
cross those cobbles hundreds of times. She has passed these buildings nearly every day of her life. The sky, the sand and the trees have been there through every joy and sadness of her life. Will they remember her when she is gone?

Why is she thinking like this? She is young; she has years to live. Yet why does it feel as though she is done?

She passes Blodwyn in the street. She is
walking to the bakery, hand in hand with her fiancé. Arianwen turns her gaze to the ground, hoping Blodwyn will not look her way. Surely, after the letter, she will not want to be associated with her.

It
takes effort to keep her head down. As she feels Blodwyn getting nearer, the temptation to glance up rises. No, she must not. She would ignore. Blodwyn would ignore.

She feels the heat of the couple as they reach her. At the last moment, the temptation is too
much and her eyes lift and a shock jerks through her body. Blodwyn is not ignoring but staring straight at Arianwen. A sneer mars that beautiful face and she turns to kiss her beau on the cheek.

‘
Oh, my love, I do love you so.’

He smiles and cups her cheek. ‘
Ah, cariad, I know you do.’

Arianwen’s insides rock
and swirl. She pinches her wrist to prevent herself from crying out. It throbs but it cannot cover the pain pulsating inside her.

She stumbles and behind her Blodwyn’s
laugh rings out. Arianwen runs, tripping over her long skirts until she turns the corner and is finally alone. Tears soak her face and her whole body trembles.

She thinks of that pretty face, mocking her and she hates it. Yet the love crowds into her
and she cannot escape it. How can she ever?

Jennifer sighed as she leaned against the counter washing her paintbrushes in the sink.
She’d painted three new canvases over the last few days and her mind was absorbed by them. She no longer thought of the look Ceris had given her, well perhaps she thought of it a little, but she forced it away each time.

All day, she had entertained her mind with
the blues and greens of her painting of the sea, with the browns and reds of the woodland and with the turquoise and white of the sky.

Now her
thoughts turned to what dreams she might have that night. She ate dinner alone at her kitchen table and retired to bed whilst it was still light outside.

The world outside seems so dark.
Arianwen closes the curtains against its grey light, undresses and, in her long cotton nightgown, climbs into her welcoming bed.

The warmth envelops her and she wraps her arms around her
self, longing for the touch of her sweetheart. Can wishing bring her?

‘Please, please, I wish, I wish.’

A glimpse of dark hair, silky touch of the strands. Reaching out, kisses on soft skin, a gasp in reply.

Pleasure dimples her body and she surrenders herself to it, letting the shared touches overcome her. She does not care if this is a sin.

Jennifer lay on her bed, closed her eyes and welcomed her lover into her embrace.

Breath
of a kiss across her jaw, her cheek, her lips.

She reached out and stroked the soft skin close to her. It felt so real. It was real, as long as she kept her eyes closed. Her lover was with her, would always be with her.

Kisses down her body, caressing each turn of her body with soft lips.

Jennifer let out a cry of pleasure into the still air as she felt lips and tongue press between her legs, push inside her and fill her with pleasure.

‘Oh! Oh!’ she cried into the stillness of her bedroom, of their bedroom. They were together. They were going to stay together, no matter what.

Jennifer’s hips moved uncontrollably as her entire body rocked with pleasure. This was more than she’d ever felt, more than she could bear but she wanted more, more and more. She wanted to see the face of her sweetheart as they made love to each other. She wanted to return the pleasure she was receiving. She wanted everything.

Fingers firm on her hips, holding her steady as her lover’s hot, hard tongue moves inside her, flutters inside her, and she can feel her heart pounding through her whole body.

‘Please! Oh please, more,’ she begged.

Her lover grasps hold of her, flicks her tongue over her hot swollen clit, and Jennifer bucks and shouts her pleasure into the room.

Jennifer collapsed on the bed, eyes still firmly closed. Strong, soft arms wrapped around her and held her tight.

She turned her face into the warmth of her lover’s neck and breathed in the scent of the sweat they have created together.

Her insides ached. She wanted to give back to her sweetheart but didn’t know how. She could feel her lover in her arms but one glance, even through half-opened eyes, and Jennifer knew she would disappear, that she’d be left alone in her bed. She would be left alone without the comfort of her lover.