Dreamquake: Book Two of the Dreamhunter Duet (20 page)

She stepped up onto a tree root and peered around the trunk—yes, she
had
seen a light. There was a lamp sitting unattended beside the pile of surplus rails. Nothing moved in the circle of its vaporous white light. And then a moth appeared and began a colliding orbit.

Rose, craning around the trunk of the plane tree, saw four rangers appear. The men flickered into existence beside the pallets and their loads. The rangers were working in pairs, picking up several rails each and carrying them out of sight, Into the Place.

For two weeks Rose had walked by the stacked rails—and, for that matter, the pile of surplus timber ties a few paces away, concealed in a patch of fennel. She had walked past them and hadn’t wondered how Doran’s builders had made such a huge overestimation when buying for what was, after
all, less than a mile of line. Nor had she wondered why the rails, after sitting there for years, lacked even the faintest freckle of rust.

Now she knew. The piled rails never rusted because they were replaced, new ones were landed on the shore—probably when the house was empty—and were carried by engine to this spot, then, by rangers, into the Place.

Rose knew nothing about the country In from the Awa Inlet, but she knew that she’d never heard
anything
about a railway in the Place. Where would a rail line go? And what would run on it, if a flame couldn’t be kindled and put to coal to heat a boiler and make steam? If there could be no spark in the valves of a combustion engine, if only muscle could move things?

As Rose considered all this, the rangers came and went, and the stacks of rails were gradually reduced. She remained where she was till she worked out, from snatches of talk and the rangers’ gestures, that next they meant to start transporting the timber ties from the fennel patch to the border.

Rose realized that she couldn’t keep edging around the tree in order to stay out of sight. She’d have to make a run for it. She’d have to wait till they were all In, then break cover and run as far from the lamplight as she could. She hoped the light had formed a kind of capsule and sealed the rangers into it, so that they would be as blinded as people coming from a bright outdoors into a dark room. She hoped the moonlight would seem weak to their dazzled eyes and they would miss her running form, her pale hair and white nightgown.

Rose waited till all four rangers were out of sight, then sprinted flat-out for the next tree. She slid behind it before they reappeared. Again she waited, ducked out, dashed on, scrambled under cover. When she was five trees farther up the
avenue, she looked back to see the lamp moving, then passing into the fennel, casting giant, feathery shadows on the smooth trunks of the nearest plane trees. The shadows leapt to engulf the trees as the lamp was lowered to the ground.

Rose sprinted through the orchard and up the steps to the house. Her feet and the hem of her nightgown were wet with dew, the cloth clinging to her ankles. She didn’t pause to catch her breath but headed straight for the unlocked dining room doors.

Then she stopped dead.

Ru Doran was standing on the veranda beside the only unlocked door. He looked at Rose, then past her at the lamplight along the rail line. He craned his neck and came forward. Rose edged away a little, so he stopped. “What was it?” he said.

“Rangers,” said Rose.

He regarded her. “You know—most girls would be more cautious about wandering at night.”

Rose shrugged. She met his eyes, but only briefly.

“But you aren’t like most girls, are you, Rose?”

“What do you mean?” Rose said. She felt uneasy. Ru was standing between her and the door.

“Well—your mother is a dreamhunter. And so you’ve been exposed.” His tone was insinuating.

Rose tossed her head, snorted, and started forward briskly.

Ru intercepted her. He put his shoulder against her, backed her into the wall, and caught hold of her wrist.

“Please let me go,” she said.

“You’re still whispering.” He sounded amused. “Very sensible. It would be a shame to be caught. Out of your bed. Snooping.”

“Let go of me,” Rose said, angry but ineffectual. She found
that she was feeling more indignant than frightened, though she knew fear was probably the sensible response to being cornered and threatened.

Ru Doran
was
threatening her. She knew that he had decided she was a certain kind of girl. A girl somehow spoiled by “exposure” to freedoms and excitements most girls hadn’t had. He’d decided she was fair game. And he was laughing at her, chuckling in a superior, indulgent way and shaking his head. How dare he be so comfortable about making her uncomfortable. “Let go of me,” she said, “or I’ll get my father to take care of you—or, better, I’ll get your father to do it!”

Ru’s face went hard with anger and, immediately following the anger, spite. He put his free hand to her face, perhaps to press it over her mouth. But Rose had had enough. She moved toward him and let herself fall forward. One of her feet thumped onto his instep, and her wrist wrenched free from his grip. She plunged through the gap between his body and the wall of the house, caught herself on her hands, sprang up, ran to the door. She jerked the door open and rushed inside.

Rose hurried back to her room, closed the door, and locked it. She climbed into bed and lay fuming and shivering till the birds started up, legitimately this time, to greet the dawn.

2

E FOLLOWING DAY, SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH, CAS DORAN WAS IN THE LIBRARY, HAVING A FINE TIME MARKING
different-sized circles on a map of Founderston, when he heard raised voices in the hallway. His wife’s voice, and his daughter’s. He opened the door and put his head out to hear.

“You’re not doing anything, Mother! I’m sorry I lost my temper at breakfast, but as far as I can tell the day’s just humming along as usual.”

“Be quiet and go back upstairs, Mamie.”

Doran went out to investigate.

As soon as she saw him, Mamie hurled herself at him, though stopping short of actual contact. “Father, Rose is going to go home!”

“What on earth is going on?” Doran demanded.

“Ru assaulted Rose!” Mamie said.

There was a moment of blank, burning silence.

Doran looked at his wife. She appeared pained and put out. “Mamie,” she said, coldly, and pointed at the stairs. “Please go, before you do any more damage.”

Mamie looked at her father and clasped her hands together to make a gesture of pleading. “I don’t see why Mother must believe Ru!” she said.

Doran held up his hand. “I don’t see any point in you offering
your opinion, Mamie. I’ll wait to hear from your friend.”

Mamie started to cry. “Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t do that thing where you start talking about someone not using their name but only their relation to some other person or thing—”

“Mamie, you’re being oddly abstract,” said her father. He wasn’t used to seeing her cry—in fact, he hadn’t seen her shed a tear since she was quite small.

“She’s Rose, not ‘your friend,’ ” Mamie said. She turned around and stomped back upstairs, wiping her eyes on her sleeve—mottled, stout, ugly, angry.

Doran asked his wife to step into the library. He held the door open for her and closed it firmly after them.

Mrs. Doran told him that Mamie had been in her room since breakfast, after tipping a plate of black pudding and grilled tomato into her brother’s lap.

“What did Ru have to say?”

Mrs. Doran folded her hands into one of the pleats at the front of her lace tea gown and looked trustingly and calmly at her husband. She waited for him to take charge.

“Yes, I suppose I should ask him myself,” said Doran. “Will you fetch him for me? And I’ll want to speak to Rose too. Perhaps you should dispatch Mamie to find her.”

Mrs. Doran said, “It’s my opinion that, since making friends with Rose, Mamie is showing signs of becoming a rather passionate and dramatic girl.”

“So you think Mamie is exaggerating?”

“Yes, I do.”

Doran said, “Please send Ru to me.”

Ru looked astonished when his father asked him what he’d done to upset Rose.

“Sometime last night?” said Doran, prompting.

“Oh.” Ru touched his forehead, tapped himself several times between the eyebrows. His father knew this gesture—Ru was organizing his thoughts. “I thought Mother had this all under control. Very well. Last night I couldn’t go to sleep,” he said. “So I went out onto the terrace to have a cigarette. I’m sorry, Father, I know you don’t like me to smoke.” He looked contrite. “While I was there, I noticed a light on the avenue. A lamp of some sort. I was about to go and see what it was when I saw Rose hurrying back up the lawn. I guessed that she’d been meeting someone—perhaps her cousin—since the light was just about where the border is.” Ru looked earnestly at his father. “Whatever she was up to, I caught her at it.”

Doran nodded.

“When she saw me, she wasn’t pleased. She tried to push past me. I grabbed her wrist and asked what she was doing. Then she stepped on my foot—I can show you the bruise if you like. She rushed off inside, and the lamp went out a few moments later.”

“And that’s all there was to it?”

“Yes, Father. Rose was startled because I caught her up to something. It’s my fault if she’s upset. But I was only having a bit of fun with her, pretending to want to interrogate her.”

Doran nodded. “Thank you, Ru. You may go now.”

Ru gave his father a tight little smile and left.

Rose had her dress back on over her wet bathing suit. Her hair was dull and full-bodied with salt. She was walking back along the railway when Mamie met her. “Good God, Mamie!
Have you been crying?” Rose asked. She reached out for her friend, then thought better of it and only gave Mamie her shoes to carry. They fell into step, Rose still occasionally mounting a rail, her toes curled to grip, swaying as she balanced along it. She told Mamie she’d gone out to get away from everyone. “You were so upset when I said I’d be leaving. I thought I should cool down and think about it. Anyway, I’ve given it some more thought, and I think the sensible thing
is
to cut my visit short.” Rose gave her friend a careful look.

There wasn’t much Mamie could say to Rose’s plans. She did say, “Father wants to speak to you.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, I—” Mamie’s mouth worked, then she smiled. “I tipped Ru’s breakfast on him. I mean, on Ru, not on Father. Then I had to explain to Mother. Then Mother spoke to Ru. Then she spoke to Father. I’ve spent most of the day shut in my room.”

“Oh, hell,” said Rose. She came to a stop, and her foot slipped off the rail. She tumbled and barely caught herself, then stood rubbing the knee of the leg she’d landed on awkwardly.

Mamie said, “I’m supposed to deliver you to Father in the library.” Then, “For goodness’ sake, Rose, can’t you walk and think at the same time?”

Rose started walking again. She said, “I may have to go home, but you should come stay at Summerfort. Make a return visit. Do you think your parents will let you?”

“One minute you’re upset, the next you’re arranging your social calendar.”