Dreamscapes

by Tamara McKinley

  A three-piece band set up their instruments in the corner of the drawing room and the carpet was pulled back and the floor polished and chalked ready for the dancing. In the kitchens there was the delicious smell of baking bread and roasting meat. Fresh vegetables were being prepared and sauces mixed by the fat cook who came up each day from the nearby town. Then of course there was the cake – a magnificent tower of white icing and sugared flowers, topped off with even more candles.

  Taking advantage of the lull at tea-time, Catriona decided she had to confide in Demetri before Kane took things further. He was her only real friend, and maybe when he’d heard what she had to say he would do something to help. She’d been stupid not to trust him.

  She came out of the kitchen and noticed how dark it had become. The rain had been falling all day and the sky was thick with black clouds. She grabbed a raincoat from a peg by the front door and was just pulling it on when a voice stopped her.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  Catriona froze as Kane emerged from the shadows of the deep chair he’d been sitting in by the ornate hall fireplace. ‘I’m going to see Demetri.’ Her voice sounded breathless and high.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied, cupping her elbow with his hand.

  She yanked her arm from his clutches. ‘You can’t stop me,’ she hissed.

  ‘What’s so important you see him now?’ he asked, unfazed by her fury.

  ‘I’m going to tell him what you’re doing to me,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve already told Mam.’

  His fair brows lifted and his eyes glinted in the light from the crystal chandelier. ‘And what did Velda have to say?’ His voice was smooth and mocking and sent a chill through her.

  She shook her head, unwilling to tell him her mother had taken no notice – had barely listened on the occasions she’d tried to broach the subject.

  ‘So,’ he said softly. ‘Your mother doesn’t believe you. And what is there to tell Demetri? Eh?’ He lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘That the man who has looked after you and your family for over a year has dared to kiss his daughter? That I take the time and trouble to tuck you in bed at night?’

  ‘I’m not your daughter, and no Da kisses their daughter like that – or touches her like you do.’ Her voice rose as his fingers tightened on her chin.

  ‘Shut up and listen, Catriona.’ His voice was like a gunshot and she obeyed instantly, the fear stilling her tongue. ‘Your mother is a sick woman. On the edge of reason. I am her saviour and you are just a little girl. She won’t believe you today, tomorrow or ever.’ He fell silent, allowing his words to drip remorselessly into her mind. ‘As for Demetri. He’s a murderer. If you go running to him with your lies you will have blood on your hands.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she muttered. ‘You’re making this up.’

  He ignored her interruption. ‘He’s a dangerous man, Catriona. He has killed once already – he will have no compunction about doing it again.’

  She stared back at him through her tears, as transfixed as a rabbit in the stare of a snake.

  ‘Your mother is in danger of losing her mind. What would it do to her if your lies killed me and put Demetri in gaol? You would end up with no home, no one to look after you. With Demetri in prison waiting for the hangman, the hotel would be closed up and you would be sent packing and your mother would spend her last days in an asylum for the mentally disturbed.’

  She saw the iron will in his eyes, the firmness in the set of his mouth and felt the tight grasp of his fingers on her jawbone. She was a prisoner, with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide and with no one to help her. ‘They aren’t lies,’ she whispered. ‘I know what you’re up to.’

  ‘Innocent kisses and caresses.’ He released her and stood back. ‘A fatherly interest in your welfare. Hardly worth a mention, let alone these histrionics.’ He folded his arms and looked down at her. ‘You have a vivid imagination, but then I suppose that can’t be helped considering the life you’ve led. Now go and find something to do to help Edith, and we’ll hear no more of it.’

  Catriona eased away from him and flew up the stairs. She knew what she knew. Kane had kissed her and touched her, had come into her room at night and made it obvious he was planning to take things further. These were not signs of fatherly affection, but something darker, more unpleasant and deeply disturbing.

  She raced into the bathroom and shot the bolt, then fell sobbing onto the tiled floor. If only her mother had listened to her. If only she could see what was happening. But Kane was right, Mam was seriously troubled – and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more anguish for her. She would have to find Demetri. He was her only chance.

  She finally dragged a brush through her hair and splashed cold water on her face before returning to the warmth and friendliness of the kitchen. There was still no sign of Mam, and she felt safer with Cook than on her own and Kane rarely came in here.

  At six o’clock her mother sent a message downstairs. It was time for her to get ready. She opened the door to her room and found Velda waiting for her. There was the new dress laid out on the bed, with shoes and stockings and delicate underwear to go with it.

  ‘Get dressed and I’ll do your hair before you go down,’ she said as she wandered out of the room.

  Catriona looked at the finery laid out on her bed. She touched the silky underwear and the laced petticoat, and admired the gown Velda had spent so many hours sewing. It was the loveliest pale green satin, with delicate straps, a tight bodice, and a froth of matching net for the skirt.

  She stepped into it, feeling its coolness on her skin as she fastened the tiny buttons at her side. The skirts rustled as she walked up and down the room in the satin pumps Velda had dyed to match the dress. Despite the heartache, a thrill of excitement ran through her as she danced around the narrow room. Her mother did care after all, for why else would she have gone to all this trouble.

  She went swiftly to Velda’s room and tapped on the door. Her mother was sitting on the bed, as pale and as languid as the lilies in the vases downstairs. ‘It’s a lovely dress, Mam. Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Velda gave no sign she’d heard her and began to sort through her bag of brushes and make-up. When she’d finished, Catriona looked in amazement at her reflection. The dark, lustrous hair had been twisted into an elegant chignon, and decorated with a single white camellia. Velda had touched her lips with lipstick and added a delicate dusting of powder to her face. Mascara darkened her lashes, and a hint of rouge enhanced the shape of her cheek-bones.

  ‘If you were older,’ said Velda studying her thoughtfully. ‘I would have lent you my necklace and earrings. But I see you have a pendant already. Where did it come from?’

  ‘It was a present from Demetri,’ she replied. Catriona kissed her cheek, careful not to smudge her mother’s make-up. ‘Thanks for everything, Mam,’ she said softly.

  Velda ran her hands down her slender hips. The dark red satin enhanced her pale skin and dark hair to perfection, but she was too thin and the shadows were like bruises beneath her lovely eyes. ‘You don’t deserve it,’ she said gruffly. ‘But you’re only thirteen once, so I could hardly ignore such an important milestone.’

  Catriona watched as she finished the drink in the tumbler that always seemed to be beside her mother’s bed, picked up a glittering shawl and pulled it around her shoulders. Velda had never before mingled with the guests and Catriona could see it was taking a great effort for her to pluck up the energy to do so tonight.

  Velda hesitated in the doorway. ‘Catriona, there’s something…’

  ‘Come on birthday girl.’ The shout had come from below. ‘The champagne’s getting warm.’

  ‘What is it, Mam?’ There was something even stranger about her mother this evening, but Catriona put it down to nerves.

  Velda shook her head and took a deep breath. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered. ‘Come on, we’d better go down.’


  Catriona felt the nervous flutter in her stomach as she reached the final landing. It was such a special night, surely nothing bad would happen to spoil it?

  The hall was crowded with guests, some strangers, some familiar, the staff lined up along the wall, outside the door to the kitchens. As she began the long descent, their animated conversation stopped and they turned to watch her. She slowly made her way down the stairs, the skirts rustling around her ankles, the tight bodice making it difficult to breathe. It was stage fright all over again – only it seemed as if it had been years since she’d made such a dramatic entrance.

  The waiting guests began to applaud and the staff shouted out ‘Happy Birthday’. She laughed and clapped her hands in delight as she sketched a curtsy. Then her spirits sank and all the joy of the occasion was swept away in the realisation that Mr Kane was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking up at her, a strange and all-too-familiar gleam in his eyes as he reached out to help her and her mother down the last step.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ he murmured in her ear.

  Catriona saw her mother tuck her hand in the crook of his arm and was forced to follow her lead as he escorted them both into the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks and tiny canapés. Phoebe gave her a wink as she carried the vast silver tray around the room and Catriona searched among the faces for Demetri. He was late – surely he hadn’t meant it when he said he wouldn’t be coming?

  The party moved into the dining room. The food was probably delicious, but squeezed as she was between her mother and Mr Kane, she barely tasted it, for she was aware of the pressure of his thigh and the seemingly innocent brush of his arm against her breast as he reached for his glass.

  Velda appeared more animated than she had for months and actually allowed her to have a little watered-down wine to go with the dessert. Then it was time to cut the cake and open her presents. She tore the wrapping off and untied ribbons and expressed her genuine delight in the strings of beads, the shawls and gloves and books the guests and staff had given her. She had never had so many presents in her life, and if it hadn’t been for Kane watching her every move, this would have been the most wonderful birthday ever.

  The orchestra started to play as they entered the drawing room. The carpet had been rolled back, the chairs placed around the room. She stiffened as Mr Kane encircled her waist and led her on to the floor to begin the first waltz. Her feet refused to obey her and she stumbled against him. She could feel the heat of his hands and the pressure of his fingers on the small of her back as he held her tightly. His cologne was strong and she could smell his freshly laundered shirt and the carnation in his button-hole.

  ‘You look very grown-up,’ he murmured as the music and the chatter swirled around them, cutting them off as surely as an island by the tide. ‘But I prefer you without all that powder and paint – makes you look like a tart.’

  Stung by his insult she tried to escape his tight embrace, but he smiled and whirled her around the floor, completely in charge, and determined to remain so.

  When the music stopped she managed to escape, but was immediately swept away in a fast foxtrot by one of the younger guests, and if it hadn’t been for Kane’s ominous presence, she might have actually begun to enjoy herself.

  The night was spent avoiding him. She caught glimpses of him dancing with the single ladies and with her mother, but she knew he was watching her every move – knew he was waiting to snare her into another dance so he could press her tightly to him. He seemed to get some kind of perverse pleasure out of it – knowing she couldn’t escape, couldn’t make a fuss in front of all these people.

  As the night wore on, and he returned again and again to dance with her, she decided it was time to tell Velda what had been going on. But this time she would make her listen, force her if she had to – surely even in the depths of whatever illness ailed her, she would take notice and do something to protect her?

  She swiftly looked around and saw Velda sitting with another woman at the far end of the room. Kane was dancing with an animated brunette, so he was occupied for now. Catriona shook her head as someone asked her to dance and began to weave her way through the others. ‘Mam,’ she said.

  ‘I’m talking, Catriona. Don’t interrupt.’

  ‘Mam,’ she said more firmly. ‘It’s important. Very important.’

  Velda made her excuses to the other woman and stood. ‘It had better be,’ she said grimly. ‘That was very rude.’

  Catriona grabbed her mother’s hand and began to pull her, protesting, towards the door. ‘Mam, it’s about K …’ She got no further, for there he was, at her side, his eyes arctic.

  ‘There you are, Velda,’ he said smoothly, capturing her hand. ‘I think it’s time, don’t you?’

  Velda looked up at him, her eyes dull, her expression confused. ‘Catriona was just about to …’

  ‘I’m sure Catriona can wait just one more minute. This is important.’ He glanced at Catriona, his eyes bright with some kind of malicious humour she didn’t understand. ‘Come, my dear.’

  Catriona watched him tuck Velda’s hand into the crook of his arm and lead her into the centre of the dance-floor. With a nod to the bandmaster, the music stopped and the dancers slowly came to a halt. The waitresses came in with trays of glasses filled with what looked suspiciously like champagne. A hush fell over the drawing room and Catriona realised Kane was probably going to make a speech about the successful season. It would be an excellent time to make her escape and go and see Demetri.

  ‘I have an announcement to make,’ boomed Kane in his best stage-voice.

  Catriona began to edge towards the door.

  ‘Not only are we celebrating a very successful year at the Petersburg, and the thirteenth birthday of the delightful Catriona.’ There was a ripple of applause and Catriona blushed as all eyes turned her way. ‘But also the happy news that this wonderful lady, Velda Summers, has agreed to become my wife.’

  Catriona froze. Kane looked across the room, his gaze alight with victory as he raised his glass. The shouts of congratulations galvanised her into action and regardless of the curious stares, she raced out of the room and into the hallway. She didn’t stop until she had reached the garden.

  It was a sultry night. The soft, drenching rains had started earlier in the day, which had enhanced the heat and humidity and soaked the lawn. Kicking off her shoes, she lifted her skirts and ran across the lawn to the shelter of the overhanging roof of the workshop. She could barely see for her tears, could hardly catch her breath as the sheer horror of what she’d heard began to really sink in.

  Demetri’s shed was in darkness, and there was no reply when she rapped heavily on the door. She looked over her shoulder. The doors to the drawing room were open, the lights and the sound of the party spilling into the darkness as the rain grew heavier and more determined. There was no sign she had been followed or that Kane had come looking for her.

  She sheltered under the overhanging roof and knocked again, louder this time. ‘Demetri?’ she called. ‘Are you in there? Demetri? Please. I need you.’

  There was no reply. No answering light or movement from behind the door. Catriona turned the handle, found it was unlocked, and stepped inside. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, he was always working in here through the night and often used to bed down on the sacks in the corner.

  But as she lit the lamp she looked around in shock. The shed had been stripped of the mining tools and the old clothes and tents. The desk was bare, the cauldron gone along with the ladles and boxes of nuggets. It was as if Demetri had simply vanished.

  ‘He left late last night,’ said the voice at her shoulder.

  Catriona whirled to face him, pulse jumping, the breath caught in her throat. ‘He couldn’t have done,’ she protested. ‘He would have told me.’

  Kane smiled as he stepped into the shelter of the hut and selected a cigar from the leather case he always carried in his top pocket. ‘He told me to tell you
he was sorry, but he couldn’t stay any longer.’

  ‘But why?’ it was a wail of despair.

  ‘His dream didn’t turn out the way he thought it would,’ said Kane as he put a match to his cigar. Having lit it satisfactorily, he held it between his teeth at the corner of his mouth. ‘Demetri missed the cut and thrust of the gold-fields. He hated the noise and the upheaval of this place and wanted to return to the solitude of the outback diggings.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have gone without telling me,’ she said with the stubborn logic of a thirteen-year-old who couldn’t accept that her one and only friend had deserted her when she needed him most.

  Kane took the cigar from his mouth, studied the burning tip before flicking ash onto the dirt floor. ‘He knew you’d be upset, and he didn’t want to have to choose between you and the lure of the gold he knew was still waiting for him out there.’ He waved his arm in the vague direction of the west. ‘He’s gone back to the Territory,’ he said softly. ‘It’s where he feels at home.’

  ‘But this is his home. He was happy here.’

  He sighed. ‘Catriona, don’t be childish. He was a man who liked to be free – a gypsy, like your father. He could never be happy in one place for very long. That’s why he’s gone.’ He stared back at the house. ‘Ask your mother if you don’t believe me,’ he said.

  ‘Mam knew?’ This was an even crueller blow. ‘Will he come back?’ Catriona stepped out of the shed, heedless of the rain ruining her dress and drenching her hair. She had to get away from him; had to find Mam and make her listen.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Kane in his matter-of-fact way. ‘But only when he’s ready to – until then you’ll just have to accept it is what he wants.’ His smile didn’t touch his eyes.