Overheard in a Dream. Torey Hayden

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      “So what do you think happened to you during that period between seeing her and your ending up at the gate into your backyard?” James asked.

      “Simple. I’d followed her. I walked into another world that evening,” Laura said quietly. “A world inside my head. Nowhere else and I knew it was nowhere else. But it was another world, nonetheless, and no less real for being in there instead of out here. I experienced it with immense clarity. As vividly, as vibrantly as I can see this room around us right now.”

      She looked directly at James. “Does that sound crazy?”

      James smiled gently. “No, not crazy. Many children are gifted with astonishing imaginations and can create some very detailed fantasies.”

      “It was astonishing all right. But it proved to be much more than a child’s fantasy because it didn’t end there with my childhood. That’s why it’s so hard to talk about. Because there is a type of craziness about it and I do know that.” She studied her fingers a moment. “But I also need to tell you about it. Because that night on the path through Adler’s lot has influenced everything that’s ever happened to me since.”

      This had not been what James had been expecting at all. Fascinated, he leaned forward towards her. “Fantasy tends to be a reflection of our lives, of needs that aren’t being fulfilled, of desires we have,” he said. “I’d be very interested to hear what your childhood was like at that point.”

      Laura grew thoughtful for a moment. “Most people stereotype my childhood straightaway when they hear that I was a foster child,” she said at last. “They assume it must have been unsettled and full of traumatic events. The truth is, for the most part, it was actually quite a good childhood. I was happy.

      “I only ever lived with one family. I had been with them since I was only a few weeks old, so it always did feel like my family. My foster parents had four sons of their own, all older than me, so I was the daughter they’d never had and I felt very cherished. Mecks was their name. I called them Ma and Pa and they always treated me as if I were their own child. I was well loved and knew it.”

      “How did you come to be in foster care?” James asked.

      “My mother developed an embolism and died only two days after I was born. I was a bit of an accident anyway, as my two brothers are eight and ten years older than I am. This was not an era when men were very domestic. My father felt he could cope with two school-aged boys but not with a tiny baby. So, I went to the Meckses very early on.”

      Laura grew pensive. “In many ways it was an idyllic life for an imaginative child. I was essentially a last-born child, which meant I was spoilt a bit, given my way, left largely free of expectations. And it was an amazing environment to grow up in. The Meckses had this huge, old, turn-of-the-century house with a big staircase in the front hall and a banister you could slide down, just like kids do in the movies. Everybody in town called it ‘the lake house’ because it was built right at the very end of Kenally Street and so backed onto Spearfish Lake. We even had our own bit of shoreline. Thinking back on it now, I suspect the house wasn’t as grand as I remember it. In fact, it was probably downright shabby by adult standards, because there was a lot of peeling paint, stained wallpaper and squeaky floorboards by that point. But it was a kid’s paradise.

      “Pa had converted part of the attic into a bedroom for me when I was five. It was gigantic – this huge, dark, draughty space that baked in summer and froze in winter, I couldn’t stand upright in three-quarters of it because of the slope of the roof – and I thought it was heaven on earth. I was one of those kids who was always making things, always had a ‘project’ going. And always collecting things. I was big into collecting. Rocks, leaves, horses – you know, those plastic Breyer horses that were so popular in those days – all sorts of things. Pa built me shelves under the eaves for everything and made a desk out of an old door.” She grinned charmingly at James. “It was wonderful.”

      “And into all this came your imagination,” he said.

      “Oh god, yes. That was my favourite thing of all – pretending. At seven I was in my horsy stage. I desperately wanted a real one, but there was, of course, just no way to have one. So I spent about two years pretending to be one myself. ‘Butterfly the Trick Pony’.” She smiled. “I used to wear this towel over my shoulders for a horse blanket.

      “In the attic I’d also ‘built’ myself a horse by attaching a cardboard head and a yarn tail to the stepladder. I’d straddle the top of the ladder and pretend I was Dale Evans’s very best friend, and she and I would ride out to meet Roy on the range or we’d round up wild horses and shoot bad guys.

      “In fact, that’s why Torgon stood out so much. While I wasn’t at all surprised that a strange lady had popped up in Adlers lot, what was remarkable was that she wasn’t a horse!” Laura laughed heartily.

      “Torgon?”

      “Yes, that’s what I called her. Right from the beginning, because I knew that was her name. I thought her arrival was very auspicious. It happened right at the point where I was always pretending to be Butterfly the Trick Pony. One of the horsy things I liked to do was eat raw porridge oats and Ma was convinced eating so much roughage would give me appendicitis. I overheard her tell Pa how much she was looking forward to my outgrowing my horsy stage. So I have this wonderful memory of sitting in the bath that night I’d first seen Torgon. I was sluicing water up and down my arms with a washcloth and thinking about what had happened, and I remember feeling such an incredible sense of pride in myself because I had seen Torgon and not simply another horse. I just knew it meant I was growing up!” She laughed so infectiously it was hard not to join in.

      “What about your natural family?” James asked. “Did you have contact with them?”

      “Oh yes. My dad was living here in Rapid City at the time. He drove up to see me every third Sunday like clockwork. My brothers Russell and Grant always came with him, so despite the fact I didn’t live with them, we were still all quite close.

      “Dad would pick me up at the Meckses and we’d always go out on the highway to this diner called the Wayside and have their Sunday special, which was a roast beef dinner with apple pie for dessert. Then afterwards, if it was at all nice, we’d go for a drive through the Black Hills. If the weather was bad, we went bowling.” Laura grinned. “As a consequence, I’m a devilish good bowler, even today!

      “I lived for those Sundays. My dad was very good at knowing how to make a kid feel special. He always arrived really enthusiastic to see me, always full of news he thought I’d like to hear, and without fail he brought a present. A good present, you know? Not just a couple of pencils or socks or something. Mostly it was a new Breyer horse statue for my collection. This meant so much to me. I absolutely coveted these horses. They cost quite a bit of money, so most kids didn’t have many of them, but because my dad gave me one almost every month, I had the biggest collection of anybody else in my class. I didn’t have a lot of status otherwise, but in this one way, I was best.

      “Of course, what I wanted most was to actually live with my father and my brothers. Content as I was at the lake house with the Meckses, it was different from what other kids had, and different is awful when you’re little. I hated always having to explain why my last name wasn’t the same as theirs, how I came to live with them, why I didn’t live with my own family. So I dreamed relentlessly of the day when I’d be reunited with my birth family. Dad liked this game too, this idea that I was at the Meckses only temporarily. One of the happiest rituals of those Sunday visits revolved around his telling me how he was always just on the verge of taking me back to him, and СКАЧАТЬ