Daniel's Dream Read Online Free PDF

understanding spoken, declarations made... and nothing had changed.
     
    Six months previously while covering the Hindu/Muslim riots in northern India for a major news and current affairs magazine, Daniel had been involved in a serious road accident in which a colleague and friend, Alex, a very promising young journalist, was killed.
     
    There was nothing Daniel could have done about the incident. He had not been responsible for the vehicle they were travelling in, for the vehicle’s driver, or for any of the series of small, individually insignificant events that conspired to turn a simple cross-town journey in an open jeep into a fiery maelstrom.
     
    He was not Alex’s guardian or keeper, yet for reasons that neither Lisanne, Dr Fischer or the ‘knuckle-headed shrink’ Daniel had seen shortly after the accident had been able to divine, he held himself responsible for Alex’s death. It was such a sensitive issue that Lisanne could barely bring herself to talk about it these days.
     
    Daniel’s own injuries were serious but not life-threatening; some severe burns, a few broken bones and - the legacy of this whole affair - chronic damage to his spine which meant that he was still unable to lift anything much heavier than a cup of tea and was certainly in no condition to travel around Asia wielding metal-bodied cameras, heavy glass lenses and a tripod which, thanks to its use of especially dense metals, was as sturdy as the Rock of Gibraltar.
     
    But somehow even these injuries paled into insignificance when compared to the emotional damage the accident inflicted on Daniel’s troubled psyche. In six months he had been transformed from a young, energetic and slightly wild maverick to a sad, pathetic and purposeless sap, drifting without direction, apparently doomed to wallow in guilt and self-pity with little hope of escape. God knows they had tried everything; even the professionals had all but given up hope.
     
    Only Dr Fischer, last of a dying breed, a product of the old school with his homilies and anachronistic methods - retained any faith that Daniel would, eventually, recover. However, even Lisanne, who was deeply fond of the doctor, had to admit that his prescribed remedy seemed to fall short of the mark. ‘Ah Lisanne,’ he would say to her when despair was starting to get the upper hand, ‘never forget; time heals.’ It was not much, by way of either therapy or comfort, but in the absence of any alternatives, she had tried to maintain faith in the old man’s prognosis.
     
    To add the final insult to the list of injuries, at the back of her mind Lisanne could not but be a little suspicious about the circumstances of the accident, especially considering the devastating effect it had had on Daniel. Lisanne had never met Alex, but it was well known that, in addition to being fun, talented and adventurous, she had also been an exceptionally attractive young woman.
     
    They drank the rest of their tea together in silence. After a few minutes Lisanne returned upstairs to ready herself for work. Daniel waited impatiently for her to complete her complicated preparations - showering, cleansing, deodorising, dressing, making-up - oddly anxious to get out of the house himself. He could not account for why he should be in such a hurry to see the outside world after all this time. It was a pleasant morning, admittedly, but no different from a dozen or so that had graced them that summer. Nevertheless, he felt a strong urge to be on the move, even if it was just on foot through the local neighbourhood.
     
    ‘See you later then,’ said Lisanne, leaning over the kitchen table to kiss him on the cheek.
     
    ‘Sure,’ said Daniel, then, almost as an afterthought, ‘Shall I cook tonight?’
     
    Lisanne tried not to appear shocked. Daniel was a good cook, on occasion exceptional, and until the accident they had shared kitchen duties on a more or less