Visions of the Heart (The School Of Dreams Book 2)

Book summary

In "Visions of the Heart," the lives of five Chattlesbury University students intertwine through love, loss, and adversity, each grappling with their unique challenges. Their stories converge in a heartfelt narrative about resilience, growth, and the power of dreams.

Excerpt from Visions of the Heart (The School Of Dreams Book 2)

Chapter One

Will Bentley was stuck in the most delicious dream.  He was lying on a powder white, deserted beach, with one other person: Hema. 

Above them was an azure blue, cloudless sky, where the sun beat down a ferocious heat.  Close by drifted the sound of water lapping, the gentle swell of waves breaking over shimmering sand.  The smell of salt and the fresh, heady aroma of the natural, unpolluted world, permeated the air.  Overhead a bird swooped and dived, its body arched into a graceful crescent that cast a long shadow on the ground.  A contented sigh escaped from Will’s lips, he turned to his right, reaching for her hand, but she was gone, up and away, running erratically down to the majestic ocean, laughing and jumping high in the spray and the bubbling surf.  And Will smiled, his eyes crinkling with pleasure at the sight of the girl he loved.  She turned and beckoned him with the hook of a seductive finger, a radiant smile that pulled him to his feet and propelled him forward, towards her lithe, playful figure.  Then as he was almost there, ready to dive into the crystal blue coolness beside her, he was suddenly awake, alone in a cold, small bedroom, deposited back into reality with a thud, where a clock ticked rhythmically and the chill of the morning air nipped at his bare feet. 

Will tugged at the duvet with an irritated sigh, wishing himself back into dreamland, but sleep eluded him, he struggled into a slouched position, peered at the wall clock then gazed distractedly at a peeling piece of royal blue wallpaper.  The February wind rattled at the window pane.  It was a dreary month, where the cold and ice settled across the city of Chattlesbury like a cloak.  The desk in the corner overflowed with books and paper, reminding him of university commitments; essays, deadlines and texts waiting to be read.  He shook away the last remnants of sleep, rubbed at his tired eyes, then swung himself up out of the warm bed to cross the landing, pausing to listen to the soft sounds of his mother’s warbling drifting up from downstairs.  The bathroom door was closed firmly, the sounds of the power shower rumbling rhythmically through the woodwork.  Will swung on his dressing gown then wandered downstairs.  Flora was busy in the ground floor toilet, head bent and marigolds snapped firmly in place, as she scrubbed at an already gleaming, marble sink. 

“Morning,” Will mumbled, as he staggered through the open door. 

“Will,” she turned in surprise, “you’re up early for a weekend love.”  Her smile was radiant, her face brightly lit, as she surveyed her only child.

“Places to go, people to see, essays to write,” he winked playfully, “can I use the bathroom Mom?”

“Of course,” she stepped aside, then chattered away until he reappeared.

“Have a nice time son, whatever you plan on doing.”

Will nodded, averting his eyes, there was no way he could tell her he was meeting Hema.  As far as his parents were concerned, that relationship was well and truly over, he didn’t want them finding out that they were back together and closer than ever.  Still, he felt guilty for deceiving them, especially his sweet, kind hearted Mom.

“So, what are you up to today?” 

“Oh I’m busy Will, housework, shopping and uncle Evan is coming over for tea, won’t that be nice?”  Flora cocked her head to one side and peered up at Will, who was grimacing at the thought of his Mom’s older brother.  Uncle Evan was a retired army corporal and aspiring local M.P.  He was short, stocky, with a penchant for shouting, intimidation and hearty back slapping.  Nothing like his younger sister with her gentleness and endearing naivety.  Will quickly swilled his hands, glancing in the mirror at a youthful face, lined by faint stubble and framed by a halo of wild, upright hair. 

“Would you like breakfast love?” Flora enquired, “I’ve got some lovely Applewood smoked sausages.  You can have an egg with it too.”

“Great Mom, I’m starving,” his stomach rumbled in agreement.

Flora bustled into the kitchen, chattering about the weather, how she could never get the washing dry and the expensive cost of using the tumble drier.  Will perched on a stool and scrolled through Facebook.  The news feed reminded him of stranger’s birthdays, another celebrity death, explicit animal cruelty shots which made him shudder and pleas for donations to cancer research.  Ah, but there was a cheeky status from his mate Jimmy, who was feeling fed up of having to work on a cold, Saturday morning.  A girl from his old secondary school, and an aspiring model, had also posted a portfolio of half-naked selfies which had accumulated 200 likes.  Not from me he thought, as he resolutely scrolled past.

“Mom, why don’t you join Facebook?”  Will grinned across at her, as she turned the spitting sausages. 

“Now can you imagine what your Father would have to say about that.”

“None of his business I reckon,” Will retorted. 

“He’s a prominent head teacher Will, of a very successful Catholic primary school.  How would it look if his wife began cavorting on social media?”

Will snorted with laughter, “you are allowed a life of your own.  Maybe you could befriend a couple of hunky men.”

Flora chuckled along in good humour, “and maybe I could also get a tattoo.”

“On your buttocks?”

“Yes, a love heart with your Dad’s initials.”

“And the Chattlesbury Football club logo on the other cheek?” 

Will collapsed over the table, shoulders shaking with mirth.  While Flora wiped away tears of merriment. 

“What’s the joke?”  Max Bentley enquired, as he strode into the kitchen.

“We were just discussing the pros and cons of Facebook.”

“Worst thing ever invented,” Max replied in a firm tone, “every head teacher’s nightmare.  Causes problems with staff, pupils, parents, a school’s reputation.  I say ban it.”

Will rolled his eyes, “I am so glad I’m not going to be working in education.”

Max spun towards his son, “well, what are your employment plans then?  Your Mother and I are longing to know.” 

“Er, I’m still working on it.”  Will ran a hand through his tousled hair, maybe winding up his Dad this early on a weekend wasn’t such a good idea.  He noticed Flora looking across at him, a small smile playing on her lips.  She then proceeded to distract Max with subsequent chatter on household finances.  Will’s phone buzzed to signify a message from Hema, reminding him of their lunchtime rendezvous. 

“So yes, we’ve managed to save a fair bit on the electricity this quarter,” Flora cracked an egg into the pan with a happy glance at her husband.

“Good,” Max grumbled, “have you seen my striped tie?  It had a tea stain on, I put it in the washing basket last week.”

Flora pointed to the clothes horse wedged against the radiator.  Ruby, the family Border Collie was pacing agitatedly, she paused in front of Will for a fuss, her nose was turned upwards as she frantically sniffed out the succulent smell of cooking meat.

“So, how is uni going dear?” Will frowned at his mother’s question.  The first year was almost over, lectures, seminars, debates and discussions, culminating in headache inducing essays, to show that it had all been understood and your own opinions of the texts formulated into a cohesive argument.  

“It’s flown by,” he confirmed, “I’m looking forward to the summer.”

The end of term was just a few months away.  Light nights beckoned, bringing the possibility of warm sunshine and time off to relax and unwind.  Although he had planned on increasing his shifts at the Student Union bar, he wanted to purchase Hema a ring, a token of his love and commitment.  He’d spotted the perfect one, last week in the jeweller’s window, emerald and diamonds curled into an exquisite pattern.  Now he had to find out her ring size, which could be a bit tricky, but Jimmy’s girlfriend Sadie had declared that she would find out for him, which was cool with Will.    

“You really need to study more,” Max Bentley voiced, with a shake of his head.  Droplets of water dripped from his still damp hair.   “Prolific reading is the key to a successful English degree.”

“Er, wasn’t your degree in Maths?”  Will questioned.

“It was,” Max confirmed with a proud smile, “and let me tell you, I worked bloody hard to attain my first.  Maths is straightforward, you either get it or you don’t, but English, it’s a tricky subject.  Some people think it’s easy - it’s not.  A lot of reading and that’s just the primary texts.  Then you must be proficient at writing, spelling, grammar, coherence and fluency.  It’s hard work.”

“You don’t need to convince me; I’m living it remember.”

“So then set more time aside for study,” Max suggested, “it’s three years of your life.  Your mates will still be there at the end of it.”

Will knew he was right, his sensible Dad, perfection personified. 

Max was pulling on his tie, adjusting it in the steamed-up mirror, “a few of my teachers are English grads, I could introduce you if you need extra help.”

“No thanks,” Will replied firmly, “I can manage.”

“Will is doing really well love,” Flora interjected, jumping to her son’s defence, “he’s trying his best and that’s all he can do.”

“It’s a competitive world out there and grades count.  I wouldn’t consider employing a teacher with a degree below a 2.1”

“I don’t want to go into teaching,” Will snapped in anger.

“Let’s discuss holidays,” Flora said brightly, “I stopped at the Travel Agents the other day, there’s some super deals at the moment, with really cheap flights and you really do need a holiday love.”  She peered at her husband with sympathy. 

Max nodded, looking thoroughly fed up, “I am looking forward to the end of this year.  It’s been a tough one.  Pupils behaviour is worsening and parents seem devoid of any respect and support for the teachers now-a-days.” 

“Well at least it’s the weekend,” Flora stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on her husband’s lips, “where are you off to anyway, all spruced up?”

“St Mary’s,” Max sighed.

“On a weekend?  Surely it can wait until Monday?”  Will raised an eyebrow at the tetchiness in his mother’s tone. 

“Just half a day,” Max replied curtly, “it’s parents evening next week, I need to make sure that everything’s organised and the PTA are holding a meeting this morning, so I want to keep an eye on things, otherwise they’ll be running me down like the rest of the staff do.”  He bit into a cold piece of toast, which had been intended for the dog. 

“What’s the PTA?”  Will asked with a yawn.

Flora answered for him, “it’s the Parent Teacher Association dear.  There are some very outspoken ladies in it, that seem to enjoy making your Dad’s life even more difficult.”

“Oh.  Why do you stick it there?”  Will grumbled, “no job is worth this constant hassle, surely.”

“My job pays for this house and your education,” Max snapped irritably, “besides I’m not about to let a gang of bitter, stressed out teachers and a bunch of menopausal PTA members run me out of a career.”

“Whatever!”  Will’s eyes lit up at the sight of the oozing sandwich heading his way.

“Can’t your deputy take some of the burden dear?”  Flora piped up, ever helpful. 

Max’s top lip curled in disdain, “Marcia Bent is a nutcase, admittedly a very educated one at that.  I’ve had so many staff threaten to file a grievance against her, it’s a miracle she’s still in employment.  Parents are terrified of her.  Even the priest hides behind the font when she’s around.”

Flora clutched at her bosom, “Father McGregor?  But he’s such a lovely man.”

“I know!”  Max agreed, “but one surly look from that woman could turn water to ice.”

“Sack her then,” Will commented, as he wiped a blob of runny egg from his chin. 

Max laughed, “it really is a good job you’re not going into teaching my lad.  I really wish it were that simple.  She’s a governor Will and has a lot of influence within the school.  Her husband is a solicitor, specialising in employment law.  Then there’s the Unions – don’t get me started on them.  I’ve tried to get rid of her before, but she managed to wheedle out of it and all the other staff are too busy watching their own backs to lend me a hand, or to support a bullied colleague.  No, I’ve got to wait until she does something really malicious.”

“Sounds like a bitch to me,” Will concluded. 

“What a thoroughly nasty person,” Flora was shocked by the revelations, “and in a religious school too.”

“You’ll find her at church every Sunday,” Max revealed with a shake of his head. 

“Yeah, she must think that if she prays for forgiveness, then her behaviours okay.”  Will was reminded yet again why he no longer attended church.  He thought of Hema and her religion.  Karma seemed a pretty cool ideology to him.

Flora rubbed at her reddening throat, “well Will, there are a lot of truly good people attend church too you know.”

Will looked across at his mother, noting her fingers hovering over her gold cross pendant.

“Yes I know Mom,” he sighed, “you’re an absolute angel.”

“Exactly,” Max snapped, “don’t tar us all with the same brush.  Anyway, what I personally think of the staff is irrespective.  As long as they do their job, then I’m happy.”

“Don’t work too hard dear,” Flora admonished gently, “I’ll have a nice lunch waiting for you when you get home.”

“Oh?”  Max brightened at the prospect of food.

“Crusty cobs, your favourite,” she beamed, “do you want two saving Will?   I’ve bought some of that crumbly, extra mature cheddar you love.”

“Maybe tomorrow Mom, I’m off out for lunch with mates,” Will hated lying to Flora, but Hema had insisted there was no other way for them to be together.  Their relationship had to remain a secret.  He noticed Max lingering by the door, with a suspicious look on his face.

“Don’t forget your briefcase,” he mumbled to his Dad.

“Have a good day,” Max nodded, then strode from the room. 

Will lobbed the last remaining piece of sausage into Ruby’s metallic bowl and bounded up the stairs for a revitalising shower, a couple of hours’ study and then a lie on the bed, with his iPod blasting Arctic Monkeys.  Soon enough it was mid-day, he stood in the kitchen staring despondently out at the lashing rain.

“Do you want a lift son?”  Flora enquired.

She dropped him on the outskirts of the city centre, waving and tooting cheerfully as she chugged off up the street.  Will jogged towards the bank, swerving around lines of shoppers clutching umbrellas.  The bad weather could not dull his spirits, he felt happy and excited to see her.  To hold her in his arms and hear her chattering about her day.   He could see her now, leaning against a high wall, shielding her head with a large, shiny bag, as she looked for him, searching the crowds of people.  As he neared her, he slowed his pace, appreciating her striking beauty, thoughts of kissing her full lips and staring into her honey golden eyes distracted him, so he was clumsily tripping over his own feet.  He could see a range of emotions flickering across her visage; anxiety, trepidation and genuine fear.  A lump rose into his throat, as thoughts of her strict parents niggled at him.  Then she spotted him and a small, sweet smile wiped away the other emotions and quelled his own sense of anxiety. 

“Hema,” he panted breathlessly as he strode to meet her, “are you okay?”

“We need to talk,” her reply was soft, but direct. 

“What’s wrong?”  He grasped her hand, pulling her towards him. 

Gently she shrugged him off, “not here.” 

Will followed her through the crowds, down a deserted alleyway and into a quaint tea shop.

They sank down at a table covered in pretty red and white gingham.  A smiling waitress jotted down their order, then retreated to leave them alone, silently facing each other.  Will moved the vase of flowers to one side and reached across to take her hand. 

“Would you like a muffin to go with your tea?”  Hema asked in a high pitch, that was different from her usual subdued tones. 

Will nodded, feeling a little bemused at the strained atmosphere that surrounded them.   

She called across to the busy waitress, “two blueberry muffins please.”

Will leant forward in his seat, attempting to catch her eye, but Hema was looking anywhere but at him. 

What on earth had got into her?  He thought with agitation, as her beautiful eyes flickered around the café.  At the table next to them a baby wailed and a harassed looking mother lifted it onto her lap, making cooing noises as she did.  Hema’s gaze fixated on the child, then she pulled her hand away sharply. 

“Is it your family?”  Will enquired, “have they found out about us again?”

Hema shook her head firmly.

“Thank God,” Will breathed a sigh of relief, running a terse hand through his floppy hair. 

“Do you love me Will?”  The question rattled him and he gaped at her with surprise. 

“Here you go,” the waitress chirped cheerfully, as she set two china cups and a plate of cakes down in front of them.    

Will waited until she had moved away before replying, “of course I do, you know I do. 

Hema spooned sugar into her drink, not looking convinced. 

“Are you ill?”  He quizzed, “Talk to me!”

There was silence.  Will sighed and relaxed back in his seat.  The door pinged open, a lady with a metal zimmer frame plodded inside.  She looked wet through and thoroughly fed up. 

“Looks like it’s still raining,” Will commented, wondering why he was talking about the weather.  Hema chewed her bottom lip, staring at the rivulets of water trickling down the misted window pane. 

“Fancy a movie night tonight?  There’s a new Brad Pitt film out and I’ve heard he wears nothing more than a loin cloth in it,” he winked salaciously at her and was rewarded by a curve of her mouth.  “Then we could grab a pizza after, maybe drop in and watch Jimmy play pool, Sadie should be there, you could have a good girly ch…”

“I’m pregnant.”

Two whispered words and Will felt his world crumbling apart.

For a split second he felt he was freefalling, the air rushed from his lungs, the colour drained from his cheeks.  He thought he must have misheard her, a slip of the tongue maybe, a cruel joke.  Anytime now she would burst into laughter, point across at him and giggle, “gotcha.”  But she did none of those things.  Hema sat perfectly still, like an impassive statue, a beautiful work of art. 

“What?”  He scratched his head in bewildered denial.

“I’m having your baby Will.”

Now there were more words.  A confirmation.  Bloody hell, was this a dream?

Heat coursed through his body as he stared at her, open mouthed, dazed and shocked. 

“Are you okay?”  Hema asked, with a frown.

“But wh-what…how?”  The words stuttered from his mouth, louder then he intended.

A few of the other diners paused to stare his way, interest piqued. 

Hema’s lips pursed into a thin line.  She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture, turning her face away from him.

Silence stretched between them.  Then suddenly a soft, furry rattle landed on their table, jolting them both from their reverie.  Will looked down at a chubby, red face, flailing fists, the sounds of an angry child in mid rant.  Oh.My.God!

He took a slug of lukewarm tea and let out a long shaky breath.  Hema meanwhile was picking apart her muffin, arranging the pieces in an intricate pattern on the plate.

“Are you sure?”

Her head snapped back to face him.  For the first time ever, her usually molten eyes were stone cold.

“Two positive tests, 99% accurate, I’m sure.”

Will rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes momentarily. 

“We were so careful.” 

“Then there’s the morning sickness, the constant fatigue, the strange metallic taste I have in my mouth right now actually.”

“But you haven’t mentioned feeling unwell, why didn’t you say something?”

“Technically speaking I’m not unwell,” Hema snapped, “I just presumed it was too much indulgence at Christmas, the time of year.  Everyone feels shitty in February right?”

“This must be a mistake,” Will decided, “we used contraception, we were so careful.”  He was genuinely puzzled by the anger emanating from her.  “We’ll go to the doctors and he will confirm that the test was wrong.  Everything will be okay.”

“It’s not a mistake Will, I can feel it, my body is changing.”

Will gaped, “you look the same.”

Hema rolled her eyes, “no contraception is totally safe, you know that Will.  How many times did they drum that into us at school?  Remember old battle-axe Brookes preaching that to abstain from all sexual activity was the most effective form of contraception.”  She tittered, then her eyes filled with tears, “we obviously weren’t careful enough.  Maybe we were carried away in the heat of the moment.  I don’t know,” she shrugged with resignation, “it’s too late now to ponder on the whys and how’s, it’s here, this is real and it’s happening right now!”

She jumped to her feet, burst into a flood of tears and loud sobbing, then fled away, out of the café, leaving Will alone shouting her name in desperation, panic and utter fear.