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She dug out an old moth eaten paperback and curling her feet up under her, she began to read. Sam glanced down at the floor to see her discarded shoes, they looked tiny almost childlike, if they had not been so ridiculously high, pale blue stilettos that matched the knee length flowing summer dress she wore. She wore her blond hair scooped up with a clip so that it was difficult to tell how long it was. He wondered if it was natural or from a bottle and began to imagine ways of finding out. His body responded accordingly and he shifted uncomfortably. He moved the brief case he had with him onto his lap, and opened it up so that the girl was now out of sight. He picked out the papers he had bought with him to read on this train and slammed the lid down on his case. She was staring at him! The colour rose once more into her cheeks as he raised his eyebrows mockingly. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked. She swallowed and the colour faded. ‘Sorry I was miles away and didn’t mean to stare.’. Yet Dreamaway was not quite a part of this world: she inhabited an insulated but hyperbolic world of her own that seemed to tumble along inside this small constellation of family, and the girl came of age knowing little of the world down the mountain. Her world might have been dwarfed by unknown rhythms within a universe of vast, lurking sin — had she but known even the barest contours of the world — but that other world had been defined for her by Preacher-Jim at the little Baptist church her family went to every Sunday. She had yet to be bitten by one of the preacher’s rattlers so all knew her heart was pure. Beyond the wall of forest temptation stalked the unwary: the lesson had been drummed into Dreamaway all her life. Conversely, behind their forest wall time had stopped, they were lost to the present and all of them were safe, in this insular world all the little girl’s dreams derived from absolute good and unwavering evil. She knew of no other life beyond that which she.
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