The train was almost full. It was the last sleeper to be heading north before the ice set in and made travel impossible. Outside was already dark. It had been since three o'clock.
For the elite, there was a dining carriage at the head of the train. Close to midnight, and this carriage was still full. Full of the lace, the tight boned bodices, the satin, the crisp suits, the polished boots, the pale skin, the sharp eyes, the cigars. Sierra and her husband were sat at a smaller table by one of steamed up windows. Her husband ordered tea for her, something stronger for himself. Then he talked.
Sierra listened. He gossiped; she had the excuse to look around at other people. An hour passed. People started leaving. Sierra spotted one girl loosening her bodice before the door had even fully closed behind her. She shifted uncomfortably in her own. Her husband had bought her a new one upon their marriage. His thinking was the tighter the better. Slimmer waist, more swollen cleavage. Sierra wore a shawl most of the time, to his displeasure.
Something he said required her to look at a table behind them. Embarrassed by his gossip, she nevertheless turned to observe. Indifferent. She turned back. As she did, she caught someone else looking at her. An interested look; one that flicked downwards to where the shawl had opened, showing exactly why her husband liked the bodice. Yet the look was not the usual disapproval with which one lady might look upon a younger one. It was just interest.
Self-conscious, Sierra was glad for a break in the talking. She announced her sleepiness and proposed returning to the carriage. He agreed. Unable to help herself, she could not but look towards the lady as she stood up. The lady had been looking away, talking to her companion, but now glanced back. Still with interest.
Sierra turned away and followed her husband, resisting the urge to loosen he bodice until the door was fully closed behind them. She wondered if the previous girl had deliberately loosened her bodice while still in sight of the carriage. Maybe the lady had been watching her too. That gaze seemed to invite such audacity.
Back in the privacy of their compartment and the lady's face was burned into Sierra's vision. Ingrained in the window's frost. Charred on the bedpost. Sierra removed her bodice and skirts, only brushing her hair by the time her husband was asleep and snoring. An announcement through the train informed her the dining carriage was closing and that everyone was advised to retire.
She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, the lady before her. While she had indeed been dressed as a lady, there was a roughness to her face. An aggression. No delicacy. No fragility. No warmth, but an intense heat. Blonde hair. Pale skin. Cat eyes. Full lips. Not beautiful, not pretty, but magnetic. Adorned with second-hand furs and the colour black.
Sierra could hear nothing beyond the closed door of the compartment. Just the constant thumping of the train as it sped north. She laid down. Unable to sleep, she noticed when the train slowed and stopped inexplicably less than an hour later. Only a couple of lanterns visible through the frosted windows indicated they were anywhere near civilization; but not their destination. She arose and looked out into the corridor. Shapes of people were moving in the carriages further down, also confused, but she was the only one awake in hers.
The driver was just the other side of the dining carriage, or so she thought. As no announcement came over the speakers, she dressed again and headed in search of the driver or conductor.
The dining carriage was deserted. Until she reached the far end. Just outside the main door, two men were talking. One was still on the train, the other on the tracks. The one inside the train was talking urgently.
'Can he see them yet? They're at this end, they shouldn't be that bloody hard to find.'
Another voice sounded from under the train. The one on the tracks passed on the message.
'He's got them. Here's the cash.'
The first man started to pull back into the train. Only now that he pulled back could Sierra see that there was yet another person involved in this transaction.
'Give me the cash and go wake the driver. Stay with him.'
A woman. The man handed her a small bag and left the carriage into the adjoining driver's compartment. The woman started in Sierra's direction before she could move. Too slow to hide, she made to run instead. The woman caught her by the neck before she could open the door at the other end and spun her around, still gripping her neck.
The lady from before. Except no longer dressed as rusty nobility. She wore the same tattered bodice from before, but now with trousers. What looked like a soldier's trousers.
'Should be in bed, shouldn't you?'
Sierra did not answer. The pressure on her neck was too much. She could hear people the other side of the door. So could the lady. She fumbled for the key, locked the door and tossed the key away down the carriage.
