Dream Girl

Listen. Ecoutez moi. I tell you of my dreams.

I’m at this party, somewhere in the Luberon. It’s a house party, thrown by one of Etienne’s neighbours, up the road in Menerbes. I’m feeling kind of dizzy, the effect of the noise of the music, the conversation, the wine. One of the guests, this English lady, good friend of Etienne’s, takes my arm. She looks out of it, red faced, voice slurring.
Do me a favour, cherie, she says, trying to keep her voice down. Take Garland home. I’m too pissed myself.
I stare at her for a moment, not comprehending her babbling. Then is notice the girl traipsing in her wake.
Ive had too many myself to drive, I say.
You’re fine, she says. Its not far, handing me a bunch of keys. It’s on your way.
Who says I’m leaving anyway?
I stare at the girl, who looks bored and nonchalant. Maybe id be doing her a favour, rather than her mother.
Garland’ll show you the way. Wont you darling.
She pushes the girl forward. She has bright red hair, pink lipstick. She’s wearing a too-short white dress. Pretty in an understated kind of way.
I take the keys and sling my bag over my shoulder.
You win, I say, lead the way.
I follow the girl across the gravel drive in the moonlight, until we come to a yellow convertible. Wow I say you never said mummy had one of these. Nice toy.
The girl, Garland, just smiles, doesn’t speak, gets in beside me. Her legs stretched out next to mine, pale and skinny. As we pull out of the drive, the wind brushes her hair across her face. I put my foot down and squeal across the tarmac.
So, I say, where’s home.
She doesn’t speak.
Garland, where d’you live.
I don’t want to go home, she says, folding her arms across her boobs. She has a slim figure, with small bust and a tiny waist. A red-haired waif. Can’t we just drive for a bit first.
Fine by me, I say, beginning to enjoy the power beneath the bonnet.
I shift up the gears, the engine snarling as we climb the hill towards Roussillon, then race across the plain towards the main road. At the crossroads I take a left and veer in the direction of Cavaillon, feeling the wind rush through my hair. Garland is silent beside me, but I can tell she’s enjoying it. When we reach ? I head towards the Sorgue and the little town where I met Tamara, what seems like many moons ago.
I turn the car round and head back towards Menerbes, along the back roads.
You’re a crazy driver she says, as we hurtle towards the oncoming traffic.
Like you care, I say.
She shrugs. I ain’t complaining, its fun.
Finally she points out the way to her parents house, on the back road between Menerbes and Etienne's place. Only a few minutes away, quite literally.
The house is big and deserted, dark and eerie. The girl makes no attempt to leave the car.
Would you mind coming in with me, she says, it feels kinda spooky.
Of course, I say.
We both get out the car and enter the house, flicking the lights on in the main lounge.
Garland slumps into one of the big sofas. She looks at me with large dark eyes, heavily made up.
Thanks for the drive, she says. You’re quite cool.
Really, that’s nice to know.
Could you stay with me, until mummy gets home. It gets a bit lonely round here at night.
I guess so. Maybe ill sober up enough to drive home.
Where d’you live.
My cousin’s place, it’s a bit isolated, on the road to Bonnieux.
She nods.
I know where you mean. Lots of vines.
She flicks on the TV.
You wanna watch some TV with me?
That would be cool, I say.
She kicks off her shoes.
Make y’self at home, she says.
I think about myself at this age. The girl must be sixteen, roughly. Probably still a virgin. Living abroad among strangers. It can’t be easy.
You’ve got really nice hair, I say.
Thanks, she says, twirling it round her fingers. Mummy wants me to cut it, but I refused.
I had long hair once, I say, when I was a teenager. Then I cut it off. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
You have nice hair, she says. It’s cool. Kind of suits you.
She stretches out a hand and strokes my head.
Sandrine, how old are you.
Oh I’m quite old. Nearly thirty.
Garland laughs. Her teeth are white and straight, her lips pouty. She has nice dimples on her cheeks. Her eyes are like saucers, dark and hollow.
That’s not old. Mummy is forty, like your friend Etienne.
I smile at this.
I have the strangest feeling were going to become friends, I say.
Now that would be really cool, she says. She leans her head on my shoulder and her arm round my waist. The odd thing is , I don’t feel uncomfortable with this.
I stroke her mane of red hair and kiss her on the top of her head.
She makes a sighing noise.

I know what you're going to say.
It's wrong.
She's just a girl.
You should be ashamed.
That kind of thing.
You're right, of course you are.
I shouldn't' have.
But she kissed me. Out of the blue, she kissed me.

Garland. It's such an unusual, and beautiful name.
An unusual, beautiful girl.
And it was only a dream, wasn't it?
At least, I thought so.
Now I'm not so sure.

Felix

Of course, you guessed correctly. The story continues at Falcon Wharf. Another time, another place. Something to believe in, perhaps.

Falcon Wharf, anyway. An exclusive riverside development of luxury apartments with stunning views across the Thames. Prices start at £800 per week for a 2 bedroom duplex. I start to wonder how Felix can afford it. I mean, he tells me he’s director of an art gallery in Berlin, but this is serious money. And there’s his art collection – it must be worth a lot. Thousands at least.

Naturally, we start talking about art. I tell Felix about Etienne and my life as the artists muse, model and sometime lover. He seems very interested in all this, which I find unusual. We talk about the exhibits at the Tate, and other recent shows like the Van Doesberg and Anish Kapoor.

We’re talking about the film History of Nothing by Paolozzi, and I tell Felix about my friend David, an English artist, who has actually met Paolozzi, amongst others. He’s not familiar with David’s work, but I guess maybe he isn’t into erotica. I also tell him how saddened I feel now that David seems to have less time for our friendship. He seems sympathetic, but maybe he also senses an opportunity?

The apartment is very tastefully furnished, ultra modern, uber chic.
I can tell you’re a man of taste, I tell him.
He smiles.
I just tend to like beautiful things, he says – paintings, sculpture, furniture, and of course women. He looks me straight in the eye.
What about your wife, I ask. Is she beautiful?
He looks away for a moment.
We’re no longer together, I’m afraid. And you, I don’t sink you are married?
Not yet, I say, but I could be. Maybe next year sometime, who knows.
I see. You have a boyfriend at home.
I nod.
A pity, I was razzer hoppink ve could spent time togezzer.
I don’t see why not.
Good, now lets eat.

During the meal Felix starts to tell me about his business, back in Berlin. A small gallery, dedicated to modern artists, he says.
I wonder how he manages to afford the flat. Except I must have said it out loud.
Ziss, he says, spreading his arms wide. He laughs. He taps his nose. Nazi gold, he says.
I nearly choke on my steak. But he’s not laughing now.
No, really, he says. In ze vore, my fazzer’s unit looted many places. After ze vore, much later, zay sold ze pieces slowly, not to arouse suspicion.
I don’t know what to say, so I don't say anything.
You're going to tell me its immoral, or something, aren't you. he looks amused.
Its none of my business, I say. But preferable to murdering Jews, I guess.
That’s true, but you could look more disgusted.
I'm just not very moral either, I guess

Later, after the meal, and two bottles of Chianti, we’re looking at the view from across the Thames at dusk. Felix is sitting in a chair whilst I drag on a cigarette, leaning against the balcony.
I sink it might be time to talk bissness , he suggests.
I finish the fag, toss it into the river over my shoulder.
I guess so, I mean, that’s why im here.
He smiles.
And I sought it voss my jovial company, he laughs.
Well, maybe that also, I concede.
Its nice to mix bissness with a liddle pleasure, don’t you sink?
Why not, I say.
He gets up from the chair, and holds the door open for me. We sit on one of the two large white sofas.
So, vot have you got to offer me sandrine, he says, leaning back on the sofa, his bulky frame almost taking up the whole of the furniture. Apart from ze obvious, he adds, chuckling to himself.
As much as you want, basically, I say. Maybe at first we should start with small amounts – I mean until you can trust me. You see, I'd need payment up front, in cash.
He strokes his stubble thoughtfully. I see, zat vont be a problem. Ant I do truss you. off course.
Do you haff any off ze…..vine….. wizz you?
Of course.
I open my bag and produce a miniature bottle, and hand it to Felix. He carefully unscrews the lid and extracts some with his index finger, and places it on his tongue.
Perhaps we should try some, you ant I? He suggests. Right now.
I don’t normally do that.....but ok.
He takes a note from his wallet and places it on the table in front of us. He takes some of the powder and hands the rest to me. We both inhale at the same time.
I tell him I read somewhere that most of the banknotes in London are contaminated with coke. He laughs. A wicked laugh.
Lets talk money, sandrine. how much are you vonting for ziss vine.
Per case, about a grand.
He nods.its good stuff, I can tell. Vare did you get it?
That would be telling.
Come now, don’t be shy.
I sigh. Mainly from the beurs in Marseille, or Avignon. I happen to have some connections down there.
Incredible, I'd never have believed it. A girl like you. How come you get mixed up in ziss?
I shrug.
It was by accident I guess. But its easy money.
You could end up in jail, if you get caught.
I never carry enough on me for that.
He places a hand on my thigh, strokes my knee gently.
Its time we got to know each other a liddle better, don’t you sink.
I stare at him.
That would be extra, Felix.
He raises an eyebrow.
So you charge for ze pleasure as well as the buissness? I see.How much extra?
I leave that up to you, I say. let's call it a tip.
He laughs loudly.
You really are a wicked woman, Sandrine.
As his left hand moves, slowly, between my legs, pushing my skirt higher, I can feel my temperature rising suddenly. The drugs are beginning to take hold, and I've lost all sense of time and place. Felix pulls me on top of him, and plunges deep inside me.