It was the silence that woke her.
Daria peered through the blinds but the darkness defeated her. She had a feeling the train had been stopped for some time. Toowoomba? The last major centre before the train headed down the winding loops and tunnels of the range on its' way to the coast. To the city. Her fresh start.
She'd made such a mess of everything. Hopefully in Brisbane she could escape. In a small town everyone knew your business. Everyone knew when you made a mistake. There was little enough to talk about, so a teenage indiscretion was welcome fodder for the town gossips to chew over. It didn't even have to be true.
At the thought of Rodney, her fists clenched painfully. Lying skeeze-ball. Spouting off to his friends about what they'd supposedly done. What sort of videos had he watched to be able to describe those things? Disgusting things she never would have considered. Even if she liked him, which she didn't really. But there wasn't a lot of choice in the country and she'd needed a partner for the Debutante Ball.
Restless, she pushed back the blankets. It was nice of Dad to pay for a sleeper, but she wasn't doing much sleeping. The corridor stretched long and empty, the dim lights illuminating the way. The door at the end of the carriage was her best bet to see where they were.
No platform, only a freight train sitting parallel to her own, the open wagons piled with apples, of all things.
"From the Granite Belt. South of here." The deep voice came out of the darkness and she strained to see the source of the disembodied speech.
A fair head loomed closer, illuminated by the weak glow from the night lights in the corridor behind her. He must be tall, standing on the ground beside the train. A movement startled her and she drew back.
"Would you like an apple?" He caught it easily, as if juggling were his trade.
"Where did you get them?"
He tossed it again, shrugging towards the freight train. "Where do you think?"
"But that's stealing."
"I hardly think they'll notice. They're for the cannery. Tons and tons of loose apples." He vanished into the darkness and she heard the sound of something striking metal and saw a silhouette as the stranger leaned over the wagon. Stealing more fruit.
He appeared below her again, apples piled in the fabric of his t-shirt, held like an apron in front of him and revealing a stretch of bare muscular midriff. "Out of the way, I'm coming up."
Backing away, she watching him climb the ladder awkwardly, one hand holding the rail beside the door to steady himself. "You can't just come onto the train like this. You need a ticket."
"I don't see any conductor. Lead the way to your cabin and we'll divide the spoils."
She hesitated, staring up at him. Spoils was about right. He looked like a Viking warrior, bronze skinned with pale, almost silvery hair and matching eyes. He was like a photograph in negative, the fair brows and lashes snowy against his tanned face.
He smiled down at her, his slightly crooked teeth showing white as they caught the light. "Don't be afraid. I'm not planning on doing the temptation scene from the Garden of Eden."
"That's a funny thing to say for a thief."
"You think a sinner wouldn't know his bible? I'll have you know I won an award from the nun's for my religious knowledge back in the day. I was an altar boy too."
She opened her mouth to say something snarky but the urge died under the amused contemplation of those pale eyes. Oddly reassured she led the way, quickly smoothing the covers on the bunk before sitting down. Besides, other people would be asleep so she could hardly argue with him in the corridor.
The apples tumbled onto the bunk beside her and as he seated himself near the door, she noticed he left it ajar. His quick glance down the corridor confirmed her suspicions. He wanted to keep an eye out for the conductor.
For the moment she wanted to play his game. He could hardly try anything on a train with people right next door. That smile had made her heart flip-flop in a way Rodney's attention never could.
"An apple for Eve?"
She took the fruit from his long elegant fingers with a smile. It was damp from the autumn dew and she polished it on her cotton pyjama trousers. "Is it true that forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest?"
His strong teeth bit into the apple with a sharp crunch. "The freshest fruit is the sweetest in my book." His eyes seemed to scan her, top to bottom, with a speculative gleam before returning to contemplate his apple. "These were probably still on the trees yesterday."
Tentatively, Daria took a bite. It was good. Sweet and crisp, the juice bursting from the clean pale flesh. She grinned back at him and suddenly he didn't seem like a stranger, for all he must be several years older than her own seventeen years.
Feasting on apples, they talked about everything, and nothing. Daria even told him about Rodney and the lies that everyone seemed to want to believe. He'd sobered as she stammered out the story and for a brief moment his hand rested on her wrist, imparting something more than mere body warmth.
Eventually she slept, tucked into the bunk by her friendly stowaway. Her last thought as her eyes fluttered closed, was how still he sat, watching the corridor from his perch by the door.
When she woke he was gone, the door shut and locked. Where he'd been sitting, one apple remained, red and glossy against the blue blankets. Daria picked it up, holding it to her nose. The fresh smell reminded her of him. She smiled, biting into the fruit, filled with hope for the future.
