The House of Dreams

PROLOGUE

Tammy Travoix wandered aimlessly through the rain-saturated night. The water felt cool on her flushed face, her hair was damp and bedraggled, and the water from the pools on the sidewalk soaked into her thin leather shoes. It also trickled down her neck, inside her clothes, and onto her bare skin. She shivered.

She strode along the busy city streets. Her heart was heavy and her mind confused. Passers-by stared at the young woman walking through the Saturday night crowd, oblivious to everyone, as if she was in some kind of trance or drugged out as some seemed to think.

Tammy was unsure of how long she had been walking as her feet seemed to have a mind of their own. She suddenly found herself standing outside a church. What had drawn her here? Was it the tall bell tower that dominated the cobblestone square? Or was God trying to tell her something?

She lifted her drenched feet up onto the large concrete steps and strode up to the wooden, domed-shaped doors. She tried the latch. It was unlocked. The door swung open with a rasping sound. She stepped inside and closed the door, feeling immediately the security of the building envelop her. Whether it was God’s presence or just the fact that the old stone walls smothered any sound that tried to venture here she could not be sure, or maybe it was both. The thick red carpet that ran down the aisle muffled the sound of her footsteps.

Can I help you? enquired a dull, Irish-accented voice that seemed to echo around the confines of the church.

Tammy peered towards the shining altar amid the wavering light from the candles. A figure emerged as if by some divine intervention. It was a priest, wearing black robes and a cross of silver hanging at his chest. It was hard to see his face in the shadows of the candle light. As he came closer in the dim light, she saw that he was a thick-set man with a bald head. Tufts of grey hair remained over his ears giving him an unnatural aura. His voice sounded kind and caring.

I’m not sure why I am here.

Could it be that you are sheltering from the rain?

I only wish it could be as simple as that, Father.

The priest moved a little closer and into the light, his robes rustling as he stepped down to stand in front of her. It was an older face that she saw. There was gentleness in his grey eyes that gave her a feeling of comfort and ease.

"Usually, I have this place locked by now. A sign of the times, I’m afraid. Not so long ago the church commanded a certain respect but unfortunately there are people out there now who don’t respect anything.

Father, tonight I saved the life of a child.

I’m sure that God will be pleased that you have saved one of His children.

I’m a doctor. I have saved and lost many lives.

Why is this child so important to you? asked the priest, looking at the pale face before him and the sad, ebony eyes that seemed to be so far away as if in another world.

* * *

Sydney, Australia 1968

Mother, where is father?

He’s out having a few drinks with one of his old army buddies.

Does that mean we’ll have to put his tea in the oven?

Marion Travoix stared at her sixteen-year-old daughter, Tammy, as she poured herself a glass of milk from the refrigerator. She was growing up fast. She only stood about five and a half-feet-tall and was a little on the skinny side but she was starting to fill out in all the right places. Her hair was dark brown and it hung loosely in a maze of wonderful curls that fell to her shoulders. The dark-ebony eyes ringed by long eyelashes sparkled with an unbridled innocence. She was just starting to develop a certain look; sexy was the word that sprang to Marion’s mind. Even though she didn’t like admitting it, her little girl was turning into a woman.

It only seemed like yesterday when she had held Tammy in her arms as a tiny, soft, bundle of joy. Tom had been there then, by her side when Tammy was born, he was the proudest father and she had been the happiest woman in the world.

Not long after Tammy’s fourth birthday, Tom, who was a regular in the army, was posted to Vietnam, first as an adviser, and then later in the thick of the fighting. The army was Tom’s life, his career and everything that he had ever wanted to do. Marion had to accept that from the very beginning.

His short visits home was never enough for her and when their son Brett was born Tom was fighting in the jungles of Vietnam. It had hurt her that Tom wasn’t there to see his son born, but Marion concealed her pain and took joy from her newborn son. Then Tom had been wounded in a battle almost losing his right leg. He was sent home and later discharged from the army. The leg healed and he was left with a permanent limp. He had a few external scars, but it was the internal ones that affected him the most.

Marion had helped and supported him like a loving wife should. It had been tough as she had to endure his drinking binges, recurring nightmares and swinging moods. There were times when she would cry silently to herself when she was alone and there were times when she thought that she couldn’t put up with it any longer.

Regardless, she found strength in her friends, relatives, and most of all her children. Tammy especially, as she seemed to understand, seemed to know what was going on without having to say anything. Whenever Marion was down and feeling depressed Tammy was there, brightening her day and making her laugh. She had an amazing sense of responsibility, maturity, and a personality to match. She was every mother’s dream.

She knew her husband still needed the occasional night out with his old army buddies. It was important for him to have an outlet, to be able to talk about the war with somebody other than the doctors. She was always there for him the next day when he was hung-over and remorseful.

It was just then that Brett raced into the kitchen heading straight for the refrigerator. He neither acknowledged his mother’s presence or his sister’s. Food and drink were his only thought.

Mum! he hollered as he surfaced from the bowels of the refrigerator with a leg of chicken in his hand. He glared at Tammy. Tammy’s drank all the milk.

You are too slow, squirt.

Squirt was the name Tammy used to address her brother whenever he got under her skin. Brett was eleven years old and he was a full head shorter than Tammy. He had straight brown hair and brown eyes, his facial features swung more to his father’s side than his mother’s.

Tammy, can you nip down to the shop before it closes and get another bottle of milk?

Tammy gave her brother a hateful look. Brett responded by poking his tongue out at her. He disappeared out the kitchen door and into the lounge room where he turned on the television set and then nestled down in his father’s big red-leather recliner to chew on his chicken leg.

Tammy finished her drink and then collected some money from the small change jar in the pantry. I won’t be long.

When she came back, she helped her mother slice the vegetables ready for dinner. At six o’clock precisely they sat down. They ate their meal in silence, except for Brett who burst into the occasional chatter about nothing. Tom had not turned up. After they had finished their meal Tammy and Brett helped their mother wash up, then they all sat in front of the television to watch one of their favorite shows.

When it was time to go to bed both Tammy and Brett kissed their mother and said goodnight. Tammy knew that her mother would sit up and wait for her father, she always did, however late he came home.

Around midnight Tammy was woken by some awful singing that was way out of tune. It was her father and someone else. She rose from her bed and went to the door, opened it slightly and heard her mother as she tried to make her father lower his voice. Usually, they argued when he came home drunk, but tonight her father seemed happy, jovial, and somewhat carefree. It worried Tammy that one day her mother would get sick of her father’s drinking and confront the issue with traumatic results for the family. She didn’t want that. What she wanted was for the family to be as one, united and happy.

Tom, please keep it down, you will wake the children, said Marion.

Tom replied with an obvious slur in his speech. I’m not loud. Vincent and I have just been having a few drinks.

A few too many if you ask me.

I love you, said Tom.

And I love you too, said Marion. But not as much when you are drunk. It is a good thing you don’t have to work tomorrow.

It was becoming quieter. Tammy closed the door and went back to bed and snuggled down. She didn’t hear another thing.

The next morning Tammy showered and then dressed in a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a yellow short-sleeved top. Her hair was still wet so she piled it neatly on top of her head and wrapped it in a towel. She slid her feet into a pair of pink slippers and proceeded down the carpeted stairs that lead into the lounge room. On entering the room, she suddenly stopped as she was momentarily taken by surprise. A man with short brown hair and blue eyes was sitting on the settee sipping at a cup of tea. He was wearing black jeans and a striped brown shirt that was creased and looked as though it had been slept in. A crumpled pillow and a blanket lay beside him. He was staring at her.

Hello, she said nervously.

Hi, replied the man, smiling at her. You’re, Tammy?

Yes. She took a couple of tentative steps towards the kitchen.

We met a few years ago at the barbeque.

I don’t recall….

We had a water fight.

Yes of course, now she remembered. Her father was home on leave and he had a barbeque with some of the new recruits who were going back to Vietnam with him. She was only about thirteen or fourteen at the time. It had been in the summer and a water fight had erupted and she had doused some of the men, including her father, with the hose. This man had pursued her with a bucket of water and had drenched her. She remembered having enjoyed the attention from him.

Tammy began to walk backwards to the kitchen. Her eyes never left him until she went through the door. She leaned back against the door. Her heart was beating fast and she felt weak in the legs. Reaching up she remembered that she still had her hair wrapped in the towel. She immediately felt her face flush with embarrassment. She pulled the towel from her head and let her damp hair fall to her shoulders.

What’s wrong with you? asked Tammy’s mother who was standing by the stove with a frying pan in her hand.

You could have told me that we had someone stay over, I came down the stairs and walked straight into him. Tammy stepped away from the door.

It’s just one of your father’s old army buddies. That’s who your father was drinking with last night.

I heard father come in.

Heard the noise I suppose. Marion slipped a couple of rounds of bread into the toaster.

Can you tell Vincent, the guy in the lounge, that his breakfast is ready?

Mum! exclaimed Tammy as she tried in vain to do something with her hair. She gave up and bundled it back up into the towel. Gingerly, she held onto the towel as she went back into the lounge room.

Marion shook her head and smiled to herself. Tammy was going through that time in her life when she was self-conscious about her looks, but she didn’t need to be, she would never have to worry about her looks.

He was still seated on the settee with his now empty cup sitting on the coffee table.

Vincent is it?

Vincent Malloy.

Mum said to tell you that your breakfast is ready.

Thank you, he said standing up. He was tall; easily six-feet and he had broad strong looking shoulders. You have certainly changed since I saw you last.

Yes, sir, stammered Tammy.

I have never been called sir before, call me Vincent.

Tammy sensed the flush in her cheeks as he stared at her. I have to go and dry my hair. She backed away and then turned to go up the stairs.

She wasn’t sure how she should negotiate the stairs, she felt like running, but she calmed herself and proceeded to walk like a lady, or how she thought a lady should. She closed her bedroom door and threw the towel on the floor near her dresser and then fumbled for the hair dryer in the top drawer. Tammy plugged it into the outlet and began drying her hair as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her whole body was trembling as she tried to convince herself that this was just another ordinary day in the Travoix household.

Later, when she went back downstairs Vincent Malloy was nowhere to be seen, the blanket and pillow gone. Her mother and Brett were coming out from the kitchen.

I was just about to call you. We are going down to the supermarket. Do you want to come with us?

No, I might have some breakfast and do a bit of studying.

Please yourself, when your father surfaces can you remind him about the leaking tap in the laundry.

About two hours later her father came down the stairs walking very slowly. Tammy was sitting on the settee with her feet curled up beneath her. She was reading a text book from the school library.

I presume Vincent has gone? said Tom with a croaky voice.

Tammy looked up from her book at her father. He was about three inches taller than her, with straight brown hair and brown eyes that had a tinge of red in them this morning. He was thin but wiry. His equally thin face was pale and it was obvious he was suffering from the after affects of last night.

Yes, some time ago, replied Tammy. Not feeling too well?

I need a cup of coffee, said her father as he turned towards the kitchen.

Mum and Brett have gone to the supermarket and she told me to remind you about the leaking tap in the laundry.

Yes, I know, but I need a coffee first, said Tom as he made his way to the kitchen.

Glancing back at Tammy he saw in those stern ebony eyes a subtle hint of anxiety and apprehension, tinged with a shadow of anger. Tammy had an aura that was infectious and impossible to ignore, she was a shining light in a rather dull world. He was very proud of his daughter, even if she sometimes showed her displeasure at his drinking.

As Tom made his coffee his thoughts went back to last night. His conversation with Vincent had awoken him to the realisation that he had been wallowing in his own self pity too long. When he compared what he had against the likes of Vincent and others of his friends who went to Vietnam, he knew he was in a far better position to adjust, to learn to live again, and to leave the war behind him.

He knew that through the love and assistance of his family, he would eventually make that transition. He wasn’t so sure about some of his friends, like Vincent, who had absolutely no one to help and support him. He had to do better for the family’s sake. Vincent’s plight had made him realise that he had been taking his family for granted. It was time for him to move on, control himself, and take more responsibility for his actions.

Tammy could hear her father in the kitchen. She would never be able to fully understand what he had gone through in the war but in her own small way she could help him, help her mother and make sure that the family survived. Her thoughts turned to Vincent Malloy. Would he have the same problems as her father? She returned to her reading. Sometime later she heard the tinkering sound of wrenches on pipes in the laundry.

It wasn’t long after that she heard the car pull up in the driveway. Her mother and Brett had arrived home. Tammy went out to help them with the bags of groceries.

Is your father out of bed yet? asked Marion.

Yes, but he’s not feeling too well.

Tammy took two of the parcels and tucked them under each arm while her brother ran off down the driveway and across the road to the neighbour’s house. Tammy yelled out to him to come and help, but he only ran faster.

I told him he could go over to Daren’s to play, said Marion.

He could at least have carried one of the parcels.

I think we can manage. Marion made her way to the front door. Tom, we are home. Marion put the groceries on the kitchen table.

Tom came through the back door wiping his hands on a towel. Well, that’s fixed. What’s for lunch?

Last nights tea is still in the oven, said Marion with a serious expression on her face.

Tammy had to turn away from her father and mother as she was about to laugh. This scenario was repeated every time he had one of his nights out. She started packing some of the groceries into the refrigerator. It always ended up with her father apologizing and her mother forgiving him.

I’m sorry about last night. It is just that Vincent wanted someone to have a drink with.

Tammy pricked her ears up at the sound of Vincent Malloy’s name.

Well, you certainly did that, by the condition you both came home in last night. Marion avoided looking at her husband as she packed some tinned food into the pantry.

Here, said Tom as he started helping her unpack the groceries, let me do that while you make me a sandwich.

She stared at her husband. Sometimes I wonder why I married you.

Because you love me, said Tom, giving her a long lingering kiss.

He knew that his incessant drinking was having its problems within the family. He ran his hand through Marion’s short blond curly hair and looked into those wonderful blue eyes as he sensed her anger with him fading and melting away like the snow on a sunny day.

You are impossible, Thomas Travoix. Marion now had a smile on her face. She turned towards Tammy who was holding the sliced ham and butter ready in her hands. She took them from Tammy and put them on the table. We may as well make up a plateful for lunch, said Marion as she took the sliced bread from the pantry. Tell me, what is Vincent’s problem?

Tammy poured herself a glass of lemonade and sat down at the table. She wanted to hear this.

What makes you think he has a problem? Tom was being a little defensive of Vincent.

Tom, you all have problems, said Marion with a hint of sadness in her voice as she thought about all Tom’s mates who had gone away bright and cheerful and ready to conquer the world. They never came back that way, including her Thomas.

He was one of the last to come out. When he arrived home, he found out his girlfriend was going out with someone else.

Happens all the time, Tom.

Yes, I know. One of the things that you hang onto over there is the fact that you have someone waiting for you, someone who loves you and cares about you. You need that something to hang onto and if the cord is cut, even after the war, it can be frightening for some blokes as they try to get back into civilian life.

He will have to adjust, just like you had too.

Yes, but I am lucky. I have you, Tammy and Brett.

Marion looked up at her husband from the sandwiches she was making and stared into his eyes that were peering straight back at her. She was surprised by his words, he had never spoken like this before, never admitted that he was vulnerable. He had always tried to convey the macho image of the bronzed Australian soldier. He was opening his soul to her and the family for the first time since he had come home. At that very moment, his eyes were a window to his heart, she could see the pain in them, and she saw the pleading in them.

Tammy sensed that this was a good time to disappear. She finished her lemonade took a couple of sandwiches off the plate and turned to leave.

Where are you going? asked her mother.

I’m just going down to see Angela.

Okay, but don’t be late, said her mother as she looked back at her husband who was smiling at her.

Tammy knew that her mother and father would retire to the bedroom. They both had that look in their eyes, the look that only belonged to them. She wondered what it was like to be in love, to be loved and to feel the physical sensations of that love. To her it seemed like a distant and strange world that was hidden from her as a child growing up. But now she was starting to notice the little things, like her parents when they only had eyes for each other, the whispers of sex in the corridors at school, and Angela’s openness towards sex.

Angela was Tammy’s best friend. They were in the same class at school. She was a tallish blond with blue eyes and devil like attitude to the world. Angela liked to confront the world, rather than wait for the world to confront her.

Most of the boys in the class had asked her out, but she couldn’t make up her mind which boy she liked best. So, she just led them all on. Tammy often told her off about leading them on as it was giving them false hope.

Angela in turn had told Tammy to get with it and to soak up the admiration from the lustful boys. It would be good for your ego, she had said. Tammy liked the attention from the boys, but not in the way that Angela did. Anyway, they were too young to be thinking about boys seriously. Tammy had other ideas, she wanted to study hard, go to university and become a doctor. That was her ultimate dream and she knew it would mean years of hard work, she didn’t need any distractions in the form of boys or men.

Strolling down the concrete pavement under the cooling shade of the old gum trees Tammy’s thought turned to a certain man named Vincent Malloy. She couldn’t understand the feelings she had felt this morning in his presence. It was a sort of fear that had clutched at her heart, a fear that she found to both be exhilarating and profoundly exciting.

She wondered if he too was fighting his demons just as his father was. Many of her father’s friends were hopeless drunks who were unable to cope with the adjustment to civilian life after being trained to kill. She finished off the last of her sandwich as she approached Angela’s house

Tammy!

It was Angela calling from the steps of her house. She had apparently been watching out for her. Angela hurried towards her dressed in sneakers, blue jeans and a simple white sleeved blouse. Her long silky blond hair hung down over her shoulders. They met at the front gate.

Quick, let’s get the hell out of here. Mum is trying to get me to do the ironing. I told her that you were coming over and that we were going for a walk down to the jetty. You are my saviour, Tammy.

It will probably still be there when you come back.

Maybe the fairies will do it, said Angela with a girlish giggle as they headed down the street.

The jetty was an old wooden-railed pier that jutted out into Haddocks Bay some one hundred and fifty yards long where the fishing boats used to tie up to; some still do. But now it was used as a nice place to just sit and enjoy the fresh air. Teenagers like them selves tended to congregate around the café that sat at the entrance to the jetty. When they arrived at the café a couple of the other girls from their school were there, Pamela and Teresa.

What’s going on, girls? Pamela asked.

Not much, replied Angela.

I saw Ronny out on the pier a moment ago, said Teresa to Tammy.

Ronny was one of the boys in Tammy’s class who had asked her to the movies a couple of times. He was a nice boy, but that was all.

Well, I hope he doesn’t see us. Tammy looked out along the pier. She couldn’t see Ronnie.

Let’s go inside, my treat, said Angela.

The four of them went into the café and for the next couple of hours they played songs on the juke box, sipped milkshakes and gossiped about everyone. A couple of times they had to duck their heads as some of the boys from school passed by. This, they had proclaimed, was a girl’s afternoon and they didn’t want any boys hanging around.

Later in the afternoon Tammy and Angela said goodbye to the other girls and then began an idle stroll back to their homes via the shops in the main street, which faced outwards onto the harbor.

Angela dug her elbow into Tammy’s ribs. Take a look at this.

Tammy stared at the staggering figure in front of them. It was Vincent Malloy. He wore a dirty white tee-shirt, blue jeans and no shoes. In his hand was a half-empty bottle of whisky. He suddenly fell forward and went head first into the gutter where his head hit the side of the concrete kerbing with a sickening thud. The bottle in his hand shattered on impact with the ground.

Without even thinking Tammy ran forward, knelt down and gently lifted his head. There was a deep cut on his forehead, but at least he was still breathing.

Quick, said Tammy to Angela, get an ambulance.

Angela turned around and went into the nearest shop.

A pool of blood was forming underneath Vincent’s hand. The palm of his hand was sliced open right back to the wrist and it was bleeding profusely. She needed something to tie around his hand to stem the flow of blood. Tammy stripped off her yellow top leaving her semi-naked with only a tiny black bra covering her breasts. People began to gather around as she wrapped the top firmly around his wrist and hand.

The ambulance is on its way, said Angela. How is he?

I think he’s okay, he has just knocked himself around a bit.

When the ambulance pulled up with its flashing lights and wailing siren a plumpish dark curly haired woman of around thirty wearing a white coat jumped out from the passenger side and immediately checked Vincent’s pulse. She looked at the bloodstained shirt wrapped around his hand, and then back up at Tammy who was still standing there without a top. The woman took off her coat and passed it to Tammy. You had better put this on.

Thank you, replied Tammy.

By this time the driver of the ambulance, who was thin short man with glasses had the stretcher out and ready beside Vincent. Carefully, they rolled him onto the stretcher and proceeded to load him into the back of the ambulance. It was then that the woman came back over to Tammy.

Do you know this man?

Yes, he is a friend of my father. His name is Vincent Malloy.

Would you like to go to the hospital with him?

Yes. Tammy turned towards Angela. Can you call my mother and tell her where I am?

Sure thing, said Angela.

"You did the right thing with his