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confectioner’s door, his hands cupped by his eyes and his face pressed to the glass as he tried to see inside. He peered, then took a step back and opened the door for the matron and her daughters. They nodded their thanks, then clapped their hands on to their hats and turned into the wind coming up from the beach. The sand lying on the road rose to make a sparkling golden stream at knee height, in which the woman and girls seemed to be paddling.
    Chorley caught sight of Laura and waved.
    She ran across the road to him.
    ‘I’ve been looking for you, Laura.’
    Laura interrupted him. ‘There’s been an accident. Someone is dead.’ She pointed at the crowd around the coach. ‘Rose wanted to help,’ she said, as her uncle opened the car door and handed her into its back seat. ‘She wanted to take charge,’ Laura added, currying favour — she knew that Rose’s father was sometimes irritated by what he called ‘Rose’s prefect manner’.
    Laura watched her uncle walk away from her across the road. She saw him stop on the edge of the crowd and crane across the people’s heads.
    The wind dropped and the sand settled. The girl heard Chorley asking questions. The crowd became quiet. The wind gusted again and sand rose in one place, in a humped wave. Laura watched as her uncle, the driver and the manager climbed on top of the coach to inspect what was tied there. They removed some of the wrappings. Chorley put his face down, close to the wrapped corpse. His hand went into the wrappings where Laura knew a head would be. He straightened, looked at something he held. He showed it to the manager, then they both climbed down. Several men from the crowd clambered up to help the driver unfasten the body and lower it to others on the ground, who carried it into the stage post.
    Laura’s uncle came back across the road, leading her cousin. Rose got in beside Laura. Her expression was sober, and she didn’t say anything. Chorley released the brake and the car rolled away from the kerb. He raised his voice above the engine noise. ‘Your father is back, Laura. But they’ve sent a special train for him.’ He sounded sympathetic.
    Laura put a hand to her throat — she felt breathless, as if the air in her lungs had set hard.
    A special train meant that Laura’s father had one of his rare, priceless dreams — a dream that was contractedto the government and would be commandeered for the public good. He would be performing it for as long as it lasted — a week to ten days. The girls had once asked Rose’s mother — who was always more open about her profession and its mysteries — where exactly Laura’s father took these dreams.
    ‘Insane asylums and the like,’ Grace had said.
    In the car, on their way to the railway station, Laura said to her uncle, ‘But Dad has to be here a week from today. He promised .’
    ‘The Body has him under contract — and that’s a promise too,’ Chorley said, patiently explaining what Laura already understood. ‘Sorry, darling,’ he added.
    ‘Why didn’t he avoid getting a dream they’d want? He knows where his dreams are!’
    ‘I don’t know what he was thinking,’ Chorley said.
    ‘He can’t make it to my Try!’ Laura wailed.
    Laura’s uncle didn’t say anything, but she saw him clench his jaw.
    Rose looked at Laura and blushed, then bit her lip. Laura turned away from her cousin. She didn’t want to see Rose concerned for her, Rose excited by concern, alive with it.
    The Strand was almost deserted. A few people walked, tilting forward or backward, against the wind. The waves were still small, but tipped white. There were flags flying on the twin turrets of the resort’s dream palace — The Beholder — long green pennants, Grace Tiebold’s sign.
    ‘Mother’s back too!’ Rose said. Her mother had gone In three days before.
    ‘She’s dreaming tonight,’ said Chorley.
    Rose squeezed Laura’s arm. ‘That’s something to look forward to, at least.’

Nine
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