It was a bright summer’s day.  Genie discovered she was standing by the riverside. Beside her a rush of water cascaded over a small waterfall that flowed into the Spur River.  She noticed a huge barge was docked by the old pier.  An ancient steam locomotive was busy shunting wagons up and down the single track to the edge of the pier. Behind her Spurlake glistened in the sunshine and although she could see the Anglican Church spire in the distance, she noticed all kinds of buildings were missing from the town.

What was going on here?  This wasn’t the Spurlake she knew.  A crane lifted rocks onto the barge and beyond; in the river, she could see they were dredging a channel for the barges to get to and from the deep water.  Somehow she knew this was Spurlake, but it had to be a long time in the past. 

Why was she here?  Was this a dream?  It had to be one of her dreams

She felt light-headed and happy for some reason.  It felt good to have the warm sun on her back though and she saw some an ancient truck go by belching smoke from its exhaust.
            The hiss of the steam locomotive caught her attention again.  She’d never seen a steam train in action and realised with surprise that this was the Prairie class steam loco that now stood rusting on display in the Pioneer Park further up the river.  How weird was that?
            She heard a sudden noise and a boy’s laugher.  She turned her head searching for the source.  A girl and a boy were making out under the pier.  He was laughing, but it seemed to Genie that the girl wasn’t enjoying it at all.  She was trying to pull away and he was holding her hair.  Genie suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  A man was approaching.  It was the train driver. 

He strolled right by Genie, heading for the water’s edge where he stooped down to pick up stones.  He seemed very particular and only chose flat ones, then stood up and started skimming.  Genie was bemused momentarily.  The kids under the pier were still lying there, hoping not to be seen.  The driver, completely unaware of them, happy to throw stone after stone across the top of the water.
            Genie was looking at the girl; she looked scared, deeply uncomfortable, and afraid of being discovered.  The boy seemed very familiar somehow.  She didn’t know either of them, but why would she, this wasn’t Spurlake now; this was years before her time.  She was sure of it.  A long time before she was born even.
            The girl tried to break free and pull her dress down, but the boy wouldn’t let her.  He was on top of her now, got her pinned down and Genie could see she was struggling against him.
            The train driver bent down to pick another skimmer when he suddenly noticed them.  Genie could see he was surprised.
            “Hey, you boy, what are you doing there?”
            The girl was trying to get away now and the boy was angry with her.  Genie was surprised to see the girl looked a lot like herself.  Indeed, could even be her.  Had to be a Munby girl.  But who?   Not her mother – she had never looked as pretty as this girl.  Who was she?  Was this why she was here?  To witness this rape?
            “What’s your problem old man?”
            “What you doing to that girl?  Miss are you alright?”
            The girl was attempting to straighten her dress and hair, she tried to roll away from the boy, but he grabbed her ankles and she stumbled.
            The train driver was angry now; he began to approach the pier.  “You leave her alone boy.  Let her go.  Let her go now.  You’ve had your fun, let her go.”
            The man reached the boy, who didn’t back down.
            “Or what?”  He asked belligerently
            “Let her be.  Girl.  Get out of here.”
            The girl stood, but stumbled on the rocks and fell backwards, staggering down to the waterline and the barge moored there. 
            The train driver raised a hand to strike the boy, but the boy had a heavy rock in his hand and he got in a blow first, bringing the man to his knees and then again, he slammed the rock on the man’s head.  Blood spurted in an arc from the man’s head and he went down hard.  The girl yelled at him. “Stop. Leave him alone.  Leave him alone.”
            Genie realised she was paralysed with fright.  She couldn’t move, she couldn’t do anything at all, she wasn’t really there. 
            The girl yelled at the boy to stop again, but the boy got up and tried to grab her.  She jumped away from him, trying to get to the open water between the barge and the pier. At that precise moment the barge heaved in the river, squeezing the gap.  Suddenly she missed her footing and fell into the narrowing space between the barge and pier.  She discovered she was being sucked under; the gap relentlessly narrowing against the wooden piles as the barge slowly rose.  She began to scream.  She couldn’t get a grip on anything and she was going to be crushed…  Genie quickly looked away.
            The train driver recovered enough to start shouting for help, but the boy ignored them both.  He was busy pulling his jeans back on.  He grabbed his sneakers and casually walked away from the pier, almost brushing against Genie.  With hair-raising horror Genie realised that this boy was a young Reverend Schneider.  He could have saved the girl, but he chose to walk away.
            She remained frozen to the spot.  She knew she could do nothing.  She could not save the girl; she couldn’t help the train driver, all she could do was watch the evil boy disappear, never once looking back.
            Men were coming now, alerted by the shouting, but she knew it was too late. Now, for the first time, she realised something else, remembered a story her mother once told her about how evil Spurlake could be.  One of the many horrible tales about Spurlake she’d told to her to justify why she cannot ever be out late.
            The story involved a girl, long ago.  Something about a train driver, who tried to rape a girl under the old pier.  She had managed to repel the beast, bash him on the head with a stone and kill him, and then tragically mysteriously drowned when trying to get away.
            Shortly after that they had closed the rail spur to the pier. 
            The train driver was entirely innocent, she realised.  Never once had her mother mentioned the identity of the girl, but Genie knew, for sure now, that it had been a Munby girl.  And Reverend Schneider, the good man of Spurlake, was a murderer, the boy who had so calmly killed a man and left a girl to die.