Claire

T wo

Claire

Ross Richdale

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CHAPTER ONE

Alan Sloane was annoyed with his wife Hazel. Why did she always have to succumb to pressure from the old friends from so far back he didn't even know them? Sure, it was a good cause but surely they could have asked the agency to send the girl to someone more qualified than themselves in the circumstances. This Patricia Braithwaite, an old school friend of Hazel's, had rung out of the blue and here he was having to pick up a girl that Hazel had agreed to take in for the next few months to help her over her difficulties.

Difficulties! The girl was pregnant! It was as simple as that.

He sighed and glowered though the windscreen that could barely cope with the snow splattered rain. If it was like this in Taihape they'd be having a real dumping of snow up on the ridge. After driving around the last bend and crossing a narrow bridge, the streetlights of the township looked almost friendly through the drizzly conditions.

The blower in the middle of the old Land Rover howled but only Alan's left leg felt warm while the rest of his body shivered in the freezing conditions. If the sharks at the garage hadn't been so miserable on a trade in price he would have used his overseas funds to buy one of the new models. He shrugged and reached forward to wipe the inside of the windscreen. The town centre was deserted but that was hardly to be unexpected after midnight on a Thursday night.

He turned right, off Hautapu Street, past the cinema and across to the small parking area in front of the railway station. Its platform was a blaze of lights but, like everything else, was deserted. Alan glanced at his watch. The Limited Express from Wellington was due in five minutes. He had been afraid he'd be late.

He turned the Land Rover into a park, switched off the engine and reached for his parka. He zipped the long raincoat up, flipped the hood over and swallowed in anticipation of the snow flurry that would meet him when he opened the door.

It did! If he was cold in the cab the freezing temperature that hit his face and wind that threatened to wrench the Land Rover's door off, sent shivers through his body. Apart from three years away at boarding school and a brief time with the army overseas, he'd lived in New Zealand's high country all his life but still couldn't stand the July winter storms his hometown was subjected to. Now this poor city girl from Wellington was sent to them for the next six months.

He dashed in under the platform veranda and headed for the one oasis of light, the refreshment room. The sliding door squeaked as he pushed it aside and walked inside. As expected, it was almost empty but the coal range belched out heat to make the whole room swelter. Nobody stood behind the counter covered with rows of New Zealand Railway cups and a silver urn filled with capacity with the thick tea that only a government owned establishment could produce. A heated glass cabinet at one end of the counter held dozens of thick meat pies, a lesser amount of sandwiches and still fewer custard squares and slabs of cake.

A plump middle-aged woman walked out from the back with a tray of sausage rolls and placed them on the counter. She wiped a tea towel over her brow and gazed up.

"Oh hello, Mr Sloane," she said. "What're you doing here on a night like this?"

"Meeting the Limited Express from Wellington. Hazel said we'd take one of those girls who got herself into trouble, Nancy."

Nancy grimaced. "I think it’s a crying shame," she muttered and began to place the sausage rolls in the glass cabinet.

"What is?' Alan retorted.

The woman glanced up and shrugged. "The whole situation. You know what the girls in those working class suburbs of Wellington are like?"

"No I don't," Alan tried to hide his annoyance. "Tell me."

If Nancy noticed Alan's anger she chose to ignore him and continued with her opinion about life in modern day 1961. "It's all too easy now," she snorted. "Where's all the self control gone? These high school girls sleep around, get themselves in the family way and are sent up to us to hide. You know there was one girl who came up here three times in four years. Had a child, adopted it out and went back home to just carry on as before. Every one had a different father, you know but did she care..." Nancy shrugged. "Oh no. The poor little babies were whisked off up to Auckland or whatever. I guess they are better off than if they stayed with their mother. It's not right."

"Sure," Alan interrupted. He glanced at the old gossip. Perhaps his earlier thoughts were somewhat judgmental, too. It was so easy to criticize and make generalisations about others. He decided to change the topic. "Is the express due soon?"

"Another forty minutes, Mr Sloane. Some slip down near Hunterville, the stationmaster said." Nancy finished placing the sausage rolls in the cabinet and slid the door shut. "And I'm expected to keep everything hot until it arrives."

Alan sighed. "Well, can I have a pie and a cuppa tea then, Nancy?" he asked.

The woman screwed her nose up. "We aren't meant to sell things to locals, only the train passengers." A grin crossed her face. "I guess I can make an exception tonight, though. I doubt if many passengers will want to leave their comfortable carriage to come and buy anything, anyway. Last night we sold less than half our pies." She grabbed a plate and placed a pie on it. "Tomato Sauce?"

"Sure," Alan replied and watched as she squirted the sauce out of a plastic bottle.

He placed some coins on the counter, took the pie and cup of tea, spooned in some sugar and sat at one of the few tables in the room. Forty minutes to wait. Oh well, at least it was warm here in the refreshment room.

An hour and five minutes later, Taihape Railway Station was lit up by a massive headlight through the mist as the steam KA locomotive thundered in. Smoke belched into the night air and steam hissed from the driving wheels as it flashed by the platform. It slowed and the dark red carriages followed. Some windows showed a yellow light but most remained dark as the passengers inside attempted to sleep. Brakes beneath the carriages hissed and the mighty, if somewhat antiquated Limited Express stopped.

"The Limited Express from Wellington will remain in Taihape for fifteen minutes while the engine replenishes its water supply, Refreshments are available at the refreshment room. Passengers are reminded that they may take their cups back onto the train..."

The loudspeaker announcement continued but Alan stopped listening. Instead, he stood on the platform and watched as passengers dismounted. There was a surge of bodies as everyone jostled for space in front of the counter. Nancy and three other assistants filled cups with tea, handed out pies and sausage rolls, collected money and went on to the next customer. People, carrying hot tea and plates of food slipped between those who had not yet been served and headed back to their carriage. It was one mad scramble akin to the refreshment room at a racecourse.

Alan glanced through the horde but could see nobody vaguely resembling a young pregnant girl. He gave up and turned to watch the railway employees unhitch the engine. It puffed out a cloud of smoke and chugged away up line. Here, Alan knew, its boiler would be topped up from a high wooden tank. By the time the engine returned and was hitched up to the carriages again a guard would have blown his whistle and everyone would be back aboard.

He grinned as the inevitable late passengers balanced their food and drinks and clamoured up the steel steps. A guard walked along, slammed every carriage door until he reached the end guard's van. There he turned, shouted at one last passenger who climbed aboard, blew a whistle and waved a grubby green flag. As the train pulled out, he swung himself up to the guard's van and disappeared.

The crowd had gone, as had the train that headed north with its destination at Auckland rescheduled to arrive mid morning, over three hours late. All that remained was the smell of smoke and an empty platform.

A girl stood at the far end of the refreshment room, almost beyond the platform itself. Alan walked closer and wondered if this was the one he’d been sent to meet.

She wore clothes that were far too light for the harsh weather but they were of high quality, a long blue cardigan and dark floral dress that, in modern style, barely reached her knees. She had no hat and the modern high-heeled shoes shone in the light. Her slim body showed no sign of any pregnancy.

Alan hesitated and studied the young woman. This couldn't be her. He expected someone with a swollen stomach stretched beneath a tatty high school raincoat, tartan skirt and flat-heeled shoes. He turned and glanced in the refreshment room. It was empty.

He turned back and, for the first time, noticed the girl's face. She looked utterly forlorn. Perhaps this was her! She certainly looked lost. Alan walked up to her and coughed.

She gasped and swung around.

"Claire?" he asked

"Why yes," she replied, biting on her bottom lip. "I'm Claire Woodham."

Alan held his hand out. "Alan Sloane." He took her cold, somewhat limp hand.

"Oh thank goodness, Mr Sloane. For a moment I thought..." Her voice faded and she stepped back as if her confidence had deserted her.

"Call me Alan."

"Of course... err … Alan. The train was held up twice and I thought nobody would be here..." She hesitated again and stood there shivering.

"Here take this." Alan took his parka off, slipped it around her shoulders and picked up her suitcase. "My Land Rover is right down the other end."

"Thank you." Claire gave him a tiny smile and pulled his parka close around her neck. "I'm sorry to get you out on such a bad night."

"No problem," Alan said. "I'll just drive up to the telephone box by the post office and phone Hazel. She's the one who worries."

"Mrs Sloane?"

Alan nodded. "I guess you heard that we live out in the country. I'm afraid there's a bit of a drive."

They reached the Land Rover and he placed her suitcase in the back. "The old girl doesn't look much but she'll get us through if the snow gets deep."

"Snow?" Claire said as she took off the parka and handed it back to Alan. "Thanks for the coat. I never realised it would be so cold here."

"Yeah. If snow's in the air here it'll be settling on the road home. The top table is a higher than Taihape."

A small glimmer of light seemed to appear in Claire's eyes. "I've never been in snow."

Alan smiled. "Come tomorrow and our whole farm will be covered."

"Will it?" Claire whispered. "I guess I have a lot to learn about country life." She lapsed into silence as Alan reversed the Land Rover around and headed a block back to the main road. He stopped by the post office and looked at Claire. "Is there anyone you'd like to ring to say you've arrived?"

Claire's eyes focused on him. That forlorn expression had returned. "No thank you Alan," she whispered. "There's nobody who would be interested."

The journey northeast from Taihape wasn't too bad at first. Spooner's Hill with its sharp bends was easy to drive through because Alan knew the route like the back of his hand and there was no opposing traffic. When they turned off the highway, though, the snow arrived in vengeance with huge flakes that settled on the bonnet. Ahead, the road looked like a tunnel in the vehicle's headlights.

Inside the Land Rover's cab, the fan blew hot air onto Alan and Claire's feet but that was as far as the warmth went. Wind whistled through the sliding side windows and the rest of the cab was freezing.

Claire shivered.

"Take my parka again," Alan said.

"No thanks, you need it," Claire replied.

"Then grab the blanket off the back seat and wrap it around yourself."

Claire looked as if she was about to refuse but caught Alan's eyes and nodded. She reached back, pulled the blanket that covered the back seat out from under her suitcase and wrapped it around herself. She smiled slightly. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. Tuck your hands beneath it. These old girls can go anywhere but weren't designed for comfort."

"Old girls?" Claire asked.

Alan grinned. "The Land Rover."

Claire's smile extended and she nodded as she pulled her hands beneath the blanket. She leaned forward, wiped condensation off the inside of the window and peered out into the darkness. The snowflakes hit them soundlessly while the wipers scraped across in a losing effort to keep the glass clear.

Alan slowed the Land Rover and changed down a gear. He could see only the snow everywhere. Even the glass verge had disappeared so he made sure he remained in the centre of the road.

"We'll be okay," he said when Claire glanced at him. "As long as I stick to the middle of the road we won't go wrong."

"And if someone coming towards us is doing the same thing?"

"We'll see their lights and stop." Alan wiped his own side of the windscreen with a rag. "I doubt if there'll be any other traffic at this time of night, anyway."

Claire nodded and lapsed into silence as she continued to stare out the front. Alan concentrated on the driving and began to worry a little. A mile ahead they would cross a bridge and from there on the narrow gravel road curved up a hillside. As they moved higher the snow became thicker. Already the snowflakes had increased in size.

He slowed and changed down yet again. "I have to stop," he muttered.

"Why?' Claire gasped in alarm.

Alan glanced at her and realised she was scared, not of the snow or conditions but of something else. He swung his eyes back out through the windscreen but could see practically nothing. The wipers could not cope with the snow and had stopped. He braked and brought the Land Rover to a stop before he found time to glance at Claire again.

She sat there wide-eyed and with her top teeth biting down on her bottom lip. She stared back, switched her eyes to the wipers and back again.

"You need to clear the windscreen?" she whispered.

Alan nodded.

"I'm sorry… I thought..." she said.

Alan studied the young woman. She was afraid of him! He grimaced and sat with his hands on the steering wheel while he wondered whether to say anything or not. He could ignore her uneasiness and just continue the small talk or he could say something. She was now looking straight ahead while she clasped the blanket.

"You are safe with me, Claire," he finally said. "Hazel would have come into town too if we'd known you might feel nervous with a strange man. Out here in the country we all know each other and there is mutual respect between everyone." He grinned slightly and felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. "You had a tough time, did you?"

Claire switched her eyes back and appeared to relax. Perhaps she had seen his flushed face in the dim light.

"Everyone said it was my fault," she whispered. "Everything was my fault. I was a …" She stopped. "Let's say even my friends and family turned against me."

"And you lost your trust in men?"

Claire pouted. "Not just men," she whispered. Again her eyes turned to his. "Can I help clear the wipers?"

"Sure," Alan responded, relieved that the embarrassing moment had passed. "Just clear the snow away from under them. Once they start moving again we can be on our way."

Claire responded by flinging the blanket aside, opening her door and jumping out. She turned and grinned. "My God it is snowing," she called out and immediately began to take handfuls of snow off the windscreen.

In a moment the wipers were scraping across the frozen glass. Claire climbed back in and blew onto her fingers.

"I never knew snow was so cold," she said.

Alan laughed. "I was going to give you a pair of gloves to put on but you were too fast for me."

Claire smiled and held her hands down by the heater. "Thank you." She hesitated. "For being so understanding, I mean. I'm sorry for thinking... well you know."

"There is nothing to be sorry about," Alan said. "If our situations were changed I'd be terrified… dark night… lonely road, a snow storm and travelling with someone I'd just met."

Claire smiled. "How far to go?" she asked.

"Ten miles." Alan said. "In this weather it'll take us forty minutes or so."

He let out the clutch and they started on their slow journey forward. With luck, once they reached the eastern slope they'd be cut off from the main snow flurry. This usually happened in this type of storm.

He was right. They went out of the heavy snow into slushy rain with water running in two streams down through the road ruts. Alan knew the road and navigated it with ease. At the top bend they came back into the snow and he saw vehicle lights coming up the hill.

"Damn," he said and pulled to the outside of the next bend. "Not many passing places," he said to Claire. "Uphill traffic has the right of way."

"And not a traffic light in sight," Claire said in a deadpan voice.

The other vehicle came slowly up the road but it wasn't until the last few moments that Alan recognised who it was. A tractor came towards them with the driver wrapped up against the cold. It pulled in beside them and the driver unwrapped a scarf from around her mouth.

"Thank God, Alan," she said "I thought you must have slipped off the road so I came searching for you."

"Who is it?" Claire whispered.

"Hazel, my wife," Alan explained. "I told you she was a worrying type."

Hazel climbed down from the tractor and walked over to them. She poked her head through Alan's window and smiled at Claire.

"Hi Claire," she said, "Welcome to the Taihape high country. It's one hell of a night, isn't it but don't worry, I've got a pot of soup simmering on the stove back home and a hottie put in your bed for you.

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