CASTLEMAINE GARDENS There was simply no point in remonstrating with David – anymore than there would have been with a pack of hyenas or a pride of lions. David was a killer – that was now part of his nature. (Part of our nature?) However, I needed to get him away from his kill before we arrived at the next scheduled stop. I calculated, correctly, that the crime (if such it be) would be discovered almost as soon as we pulled into the station. The kill (though death had been quick) had been very messy and bloody. It was entirely instinctive and David had given no thought to concealing it. If we’d had the time and equipment, it would have taken hours to clean up and dispose of the remains. We had neither. David continued his feasting as I considered our options. David’s grisly noise did not help. There was really only one option: flee the train at the earliest opportunity and hide in whichever place best presented itself. Castlemaine was the next scheduled stop. It’s a medium-sized own of, maybe, 10,000 people. It was once much bigger – as were many such towns – during the Victorian Goldrush of the 1850’s and 1860’s. But now it relied on agriculture and tourism. I was familiar, in general terms, with its layout as I had visited elderly relatives there several times in my childhood. Where to flee? Where to hide? I guessed I had less than 10 minutes to weigh my options. There were many abandoned mine-shafts but they were way out of town – and very dangerous. Any mines closer to town had been blocked off or filled in decades ago. So, forget that idea. I remembered that, when I was a kid, I’d played in the botanical gardens. For such a modest town, these were fine gardens. When the town had been larger and more prosperous, the wealthy burghers had decided their town needed such a place for genteel recreation. One of those burghers had even named the ornamental lake after his wife, Lake Johanna. It was a largish lake with an island in the middle where ducks and waterfowl made their nests and raised their young. And, moreover, the gardens were within 100m of the train station, on the edge of town. With luck, a lot of luck, we could sprint there before the mess in the baggage car were discovered.
A ble’th os ta devedhys?langbot langbot