The Dreaming

by Barbara Wood

  He looked at Beth's paper again, and, deciding that he was spending too much time dwelling upon a minor problem, he wrote the word "Excellent" across the top of the page.

  "What's the matter?" a boy named Randolph Carey called out to Beth. "Can't come to school without your wog nanny?"

  Beth had had enough. The boys had taunted her all the way from the campus gates, where the Merinda carriage had dropped her off and she had said good-by to Sarah. Beth had ignored their insults and jeers, but this was too much. She turned around and said, "Sarah's not a wog. And she isn't my nanny. She's my friend."

  "Everyone knows your mother is a nigger lover," thirteen-year-old Michael Callahan said. "My father says she should go and live with the Abos, if she's so keen on them."

  "And your father writes poetry," Randolph said. "What is he, a nancy-boy?"

  "A lot of men write poetry!"

  At that moment, Beth caught a glint of sunlight. She looked up and saw Judd MacGregor close the window of his second-story room. Had he heard? she wondered.

  She decided that he had not, because Beth knew Mr. MacGregor was a gentleman. If he had heard what the boys were saying to her, he would have made them stop.

  Beth liked the way Judd MacGregor didn't give her special treatment. He never singled her out, or made fun of her, or treated her as if she might break, like old Mr. Carmichael, who didn't give her hard work or make her stand at attention when he entered the classroom. And if she gave an incorrect answer in class and the boys laughed, Mr. MacGregor never laughed with them, the way Mr. Tyler did. In fact, Mr. MacGregor treated Beth with a kind of indifference that she was certain was a sign of his confidence in her. She suspected that he knew she would rather succeed on her own merits than with special help. And that made her fall all the more desperately in love with him.

  Randolph Carey, a tall boy with red hair and freckles, said, "Whyn-cha go back to England, you bloody pom!"

  "I'm not a pom!"

  "Your mother is. My father says she's a pommie bi—"

  Mr. Edgeware, the Latin professor, appeared at that moment from the Academics Building. The boys fell silent. Then they said, "Good morning, sir," as he hurried by.

  "Why don't you leave me alone?" Beth said to her taunters when Edgeware was out of hearing.

  "Listen, Westbrook," Randolph Carey said, "if you want us to leave you alone, then you've got to become one of us, you have to join us."

  She gave him a wary look. "How do I do that?"

  "You gotta pass a test. Anyone who wants to be one of us, has to go through the initiation."

  "What sort of initiation?"

  "I can't tell you ahead of time. That would make it too easy. But if you don't think you can do it—"

  "I can do it," she said.

  "All right then. This is what you have to do."

  The student body was getting ready to put on its yearly entertainment—an evening of skits, songs and recitals, all written, staged and performed by the pupils without help from the teachers. "There's going to be a rehearsal in the auditorium tomorrow night," Randolph said. "Tell your Abo nanny that you'll be staying for it."

  "But my parents know I'm not in the show."

  "Tell them you're going to watch the rehearsal. It finishes at nine o'clock. But don't go to the auditorium. Be at the dipping paddock at seven o'clock. You'll get your instructions then. Unless, of course, you're too scared to come."

  Beth hesitated. She looked at the boys who surrounded her. She saw the smile playing on Randolph's lips. Then she remembered a snake he had hidden in her desk. "I'll be there," she said.

  When Randolph and his friends walked away, Billie Addison said to Beth, "Be careful. Carey's up to something."

  But Beth already knew that what was going to happen tomorrow night was going to be some sort of test. The dead snake in her desk today had been only one of a series of pranks that had been played on her—ink on her chair; her desk top glued shut; her lunch stolen—small trials to see if she would run to the teachers or to her parents. But Randolph and his friends had yet to receive any satisfaction.

  "If you go," Billie said, "they might do something bad to you."

  "Will you help me?"

  When Billie hesitated, Beth said, "That's all right. I understand."

  "I'm not a coward," Billie said. "It's just that my father says if I get into one more fight, he'll take me out of school and make me work the farm. You should just stay away from the dipping paddock tomorrow night and go home like you always do."

  But Beth knew she couldn't walk away from Carey's challenge. She had played with boys all her life, she knew their rituals, the tests they put one another to. And she knew that she would eventually have to face Randolph, or she would never be happy at the school.

  "It's something I have to do, Billie. I'll never be accepted if I don't prove myself. But I'll be all right. You'll see."

  Joanna knocked on the door to Beth's room. "Is something the matter, darling?" she said when Beth let her in. "You hardly touched your dinner."

  "I'm all right, Mother," she said. "Just a little tired."

  Joanna searched her daughter's face, then she smoothed back Beth's hair. "Is everything all right at school?"

  "Oh yes. I'm having a marvelous time at school. And by the time you and Father return, I shall have passed my winter exams with honors!"

  Joanna had not wanted to leave Beth at home, but Captain Fielding had advised against taking her with them to Western Australia, saying that it was no place for a young girl. Beth had further assured her parents that she would be all right, that she was grown-up enough to be on her own, and besides, Sarah would be there with her.

  Hugh and Joanna and Captain Fielding were planning on leaving within the week, departing from Melbourne on a coastal steamer that would take them to Perth. Adam was already away, attending his first term at the University of Sydney.

  "Would you rather that we didn't go, Beth?" Joanna said.

  "Oh no, you must go, Mother. You have to find the place where Grandmother was born."

  Whenever Joanna was beset by doubts about her decision to go to Western Australia, she reminded herself that she was going as much for Beth's sake as for her own. Although she had tried to help Beth overcome her new fear of dogs, she had found it nearly impossible, since she herself had the same fear. And Lady Emily, who had also been terrified of dogs, had believed that the cause of that fear, and perhaps therefore its remedy, lay at Karra Karra.

  Joanna thought of the journey she and her mother had almost made fifteen years ago, before the poison had claimed Lady Emily. She wondered if she was near the end of that journey now, if she was close to fulfilling this quest that she had inherited from her mother. What had started out as a duty to her mother, and had changed into a duty to herself, had now become something she must do for Beth. It was like a songline, Joanna thought, whose terminus lay somewhere in Western Australia.

  Joanna looked at Beth and wanted to say, "I'm going for you, darling, to find a way to stop the poison from claiming you." Instead, she said, "I'm worried that you'll miss us, that you'll be lonely."

  "I'll be fine, Mother. I'm making lots of friends at school. And I am so enjoying my studies."

  Besides, Beth thought now, her confidence returning, the boys couldn't keep it up forever; eventually they would get tired of the tricks they played on her and finally accept her. And it wasn't all the boys who tormented her—just the few who followed Randolph Carey. Soon, he too, she decided, would see the futility of his pranks, and leave her alone. Because Beth was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down.

  The next day, the carriage from Merinda did not appear at the school gates at the usual hour, and at seven o'clock Beth was at the dipping paddock.

  The boys showed up five minutes later, carrying a long, narrow plank, which they laid across the large trough that was used for teaching sheep dipping. The trough was twenty feet wide and filled with muddy water that ref
lected the moon as it came out from behind the clouds. "You gotta walk all the way across it," Randolph said. "And then you can be one of us."

  Beth chewed her lip as she eyed the plank. It was easy to see when the moon came out, but when the clouds drifted over the moon, the plank and the trough were hidden in darkness. And it was a very narrow plank, standing only inches above the muddy water.

  Beth suddenly questioned the wisdom of her decision to accept Randolph's dare. She looked around the quiet school campus; most of the buildings were dark, the pathways lighted by gas lamps. Boys' voices drifted over from the auditorium, and the smell of cows and sheep filled the night.

  "Well?" said Randolph. "Too scared to try?"

  She thought of the snake she had found in her desk, and wondered what Mr. MacGregor would have done had he seen it. She believed Mr. MacGregor was fair and would take her side.

  "Well?" Randolph said, and Beth saw all the boys were watching her.

  "If I walk all the way across the plank then I can be one of you?" she said.

  "Fair dinkum."

  Beth went to one end of the plank, and saw it was even narrower than she had thought, and that it sagged in the middle. She also realized in dismay that, when she looked down, her skirt hid her feet. She couldn't watch where she stepped.

  "Go on," Randolph said.

  She looked at Billie Addison, who didn't meet her eyes. Then she proceeded to walk out onto the plank.

  The boys stood in a circle around the trough, watching in silence as Beth made shaky but careful progress over the water. The moon came out and disappeared again. Laughter came from the auditorium. A cow lowed softly in the nearby barn.

  Beth walked with her arms out, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other, her eyes on the plank and the water, just inches from her hem. A cold wind blew from the south, rippling the water. Beth held her breath as she moved along the board.

  "She's doing it," one of the boys said.

  "Shut up," Randolph said.

  Beth felt her mouth go dry as the board sagged beneath her. The night suddenly seemed colder. She started to shiver.

  "You're halfway, Beth," Billie said.

  She stopped for a moment. The trough seemed too wide; the water, deep and cold. When the moon winked from behind the clouds, Beth saw insects floating on the water's surface.

  "Go on," Billie said softly. "You can do it."

  She continued. The wind picked up, and tugged at her skirt. The plank wobbled beneath her feet.

  "She's doing okay!" Declan McCloud said.

  "Go on, Beth," another boy said.

  When she realized she was nearing the other side, she raised her head and saw Randolph Carey standing there, waiting for her. She smiled.

  And then she froze.

  She saw the dog at his side. One of the school's sheepdogs.

  "C'mon, Westbrook," Carey said. "What's the matter? You're not afraid of an old dog, are you?"

  She began to tremble. She felt her mouth go dry; her stomach rose up. She tried not to look at the dog, tried not to think about it. Just put one foot in front of the other, then another, and another—and she would reach the end.

  But she looked at the dog's eyes, golden in the moonlight. He wasn't menacing, or growling or threatening in any way. She knew his name, too: Wizard. A friendly old kelpie. But his eyes were fixed on her.

  And then she saw dingoes—chasing her—and Button, desperately trying to protect her.

  Beth felt the world suddenly swing around her, and then suddenly there was nothing beneath her feet. She hit the water with a tremendous splash, and went under. For an instant she panicked, as the icy water closed over her head and she felt the weight of her skirts pull her down. Then her feet touched the bottom. She tried to stand up, but the mud was too slippery. She flailed her arms and gasped for air. Then all of a sudden she was being lifted up and out by Billie Addison and Declan McCloud.

  Randolph Carey roared with laughter, and a few of the others joined him. But as she struggled out of the water, her hair streaming down her face, Beth caught the uncertain looks on the other boys' faces.

  "That wasn't fair, Carey," Billie Addison said.

  But Randolph only laughed harder. "Yer all a bunch of sissies!" he said. "I reckon you can't be one of us after all, Miss High-and-Mighty. You didn't pass the test. Not if you're gonna be afraid of an old dog!" He turned and walked away, leading the dog, a few of the other boys following.

  "Cripes," Declan McCloud said as he helped Beth out of the water. "You're a mess."

  Beth was shivering so badly that her teeth chattered.

  "What're you going to do?" Billie said. "Are you going to tell old man Carpenter?"

  "You'd better go home," said Declan. "You can't let any of the blokes see you like this."

  But Beth couldn't go home; the carriage wasn't due for another two hours.

  She tried to keep from shaking. She looked around the dark campus and wondered what she was going to do. She couldn't remember having ever been this cold.

  "You'll catch pneumonia," Declan said. "People die from that."

  "You can sit in the barn," Billie said. "You might get warm in there."

  But Beth said, "No. I'm all right. You can go."

  "What are you going to do? You're a mess!"

  Beth looked at a lighted window in the second story of the staff residence. She knew the person she could go to for help.

  When Judd opened the door and saw Beth standing there, he said, "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

  "I fell."

  He took in the drenched hair and dress, the pool of water collecting at her feet. Then he said, "Come in," quickly looking up and down the hall before closing the door.

  He took Beth over to the fire. "Tell me what happened."

  "I was walking by the dipping trough, and I fell in."

  "The dipping trough! What were you doing over there—and what are you doing at school at this hour?"

  When she didn't reply, Judd tried to think of what to do. Beth was a sight, with her wet hair hanging down, her skirt clinging to her legs. And she was shaking badly.

  Judd removed a blanket from his bed and handed it to her. "Here. Take off those wet things and wrap this around yourself. Stay close to the fire. I'll find someone to go to Merinda and tell your parents."

  When he came back a short while later, he found her sitting by the fire wrapped in the blanket, her clothes spread on the hearth.

  "Someone has gone to Merinda," he said, looking down at her. "Beth, who did this to you?"

  When she didn't answer, he said, "This is serious. You understand that, don't you? You have to tell me who did this to you."

  "I just fell, that's all."

  Judd looked at his watch. How long would it be before her parents got there? He knew what to do for boys who got into trouble, but Beth confounded him. There was a small spirit lamp on his worktable. He heated some water on it and stirred in some tea, keeping an eye on the silent girl.

  "Beth," he said when he came back with the tea. "I want to help you. You won't get into any trouble, I promise. Just tell me what happened."

  She continued to watch the flames, her eyes shimmering with tears. A few strands of wet hair lay across her cheek.

  "The boys have been teasing you, haven't they?" he said.

  "It's all right," she said. "They don't bother me."

  He watched a tear roll down her cheek. And Judd suddenly felt inexplicably uncomfortable.

  "If you tell me who did this to you, Beth, I'll see that they're punished."

  But she said nothing.

  There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Carpenter came in with Hugh and Joanna.

  Joanna took Beth into the next room, dried her off and helped her into the clothes she had brought. "Are you all right, darling?" she said. "Tell me what happened."

  "Oh, Mother," Beth said, trying not to cry, but sobbing all the same. "It was a dare. They made me walk a plank. And there was a dog—
"

  Joanna took her daughter into her arms and held her close, as if to draw Beth's pain into herself. It is going to go on, she thought—on and on.

  When they came back into the room, Joanna said, "She'll be all right, Mr. Carpenter. I want to know who is responsible for this."

  "I assure you, Mrs. Westbrook," the superintendent said, "we are trying to get to the bottom of it."

  Hugh said, "Beth, tell us who pushed you into the trough."

  But Beth sat close to her mother and said nothing.

  "Has anything like this happened before, Beth?" Hugh said. "Have the boys been cruel to you?"

  "I warned you, Mr. Westbrook," Judd said. "I told you there would be problems. It is not easy for a girl to be accepted in a boys' school."

  "Did you do anything to help her?" Hugh shouted.

  "It's not Mr. MacGregor's fault, Father," Beth said.

  Miles Carpenter said, "I'll instruct the staff to be more watchful in the future. And I assure you, Mr. Westbrook, that this won't happen again."

  "Mr. Carpenter," Joanna said, putting an arm around Beth. "Our family is leaving on a trip in a few days, we're going to Western Australia, and Beth is coming with us."

  "But Mother—" Beth began.

  Carpenter said, "Oh dear. Mrs. Westbrook, I wish you wouldn't withdraw your daughter from the school. I can assure you—"

  "I am not withdrawing her from the school. We shall be back in a few months, in time for the beginning of the next term. I trust that by that time you will have found out who is responsible for this incident and have dealt with him."

  Judd said, "I have an idea who is behind it, Mrs. Westbrook. In fact, I'll go and have a word with the boy right now."

  As Miles Carpenter hastened to reassure Hugh and Joanna that everything was going to be all right, Beth suddenly jumped up and ran out after Judd.

  "Mr. MacGregor, please wait," she called, stopping him on the steps.

  "I'm sorry, Beth, but we have to get to the bottom of this."

  "That's not what I wanted to say. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am that I let you down."