Synopsis

Cpt 1

Cpt 3

Cpt 4

Cpt 5

Cpt 6

Cpt 7

Cpt 8

Cpt 9

Cpt 10

Bonus

Extra

Paperback $US10.67

Ebook
$5.00

Claire studied the woman's smiling face beneath the snow-covered scarf and felt an instant empathy towards her. Hazel was just the sort of wife she imagined Alan would have. She shifted her attention to the man behind the wheel and chastised herself for going into a defensive mode so quickly. It was something she had promised herself not to do.

"You look cold," Hazel said.

"Yes... err ... Hazel. I thought it got cold in Wellington at times but I was not expecting snow. I told Alan I was sorry to drag him out on such a terrible night and the train was so late..." She stopped and flushed. When she was nervous she always talked too much.

Hazel though, did not appear to notice. "We'll get you home," she said and turned to Alan. "What say I leave the tractor here until tomorrow?"

"No," Alan replied. "I'll need it in the morning. You take the Rover and I'll drive the tractor home. He slid out of the Land Rover, held the door open for Hazel to climb in, waved at Claire and climbed onto the tractor.

Hazel grinned at Claire and they drove off. "Long day?" she asked.

"Mine?" Claire replied.

"Yes."

"It was."

Today had been sheer hell but if she confessed to that, what would Hazel think of her? Alan’s wife drove more slowly than he had but still appeared a confident driver as she headed down the narrow windy road. Again, snow covered everything except the tractor tracks that Hazel had left on the way up.

"I just thought... " Claire began and wiped a hand over her face. Oh hell, why was she like this? Uncontrolled tears built in her eyes and rolled down her face.

Hazel glanced at her. "Just let them flow, Claire," she whispered.

Claire sniffed back yet more tears and found a handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

"Tell me about it if you like otherwise I'll just mind my own business." Hazel changed gears. "It'll take us a good twenty minutes to get home in this weather."

"It's just that I felt so utterly alone," Claire sobbed.  "I didn't want this to happen but I was a fool... over everything."

"I doubt that," Hazel said sympathetically.

"It was something that happened to others," Claire whispered. "You know like the road accident where two people are killed. It's headlines in the paper one day and forgotten the next. Your own life is not affected and nobody ever bothers to write a follow up article about what happened to the families affected." She glanced at Hazel. "The hard thing is that the people you thought would support you turned away."

"The boy who put you in this condition?"

Claire shrugged. "Never told the bastard," she muttered. "No I'm talking about my family and friends. I did receive help from one unexpected place, though."

"And where was that?"

"My school. She shrugged stared out the window and perhaps because it was the easiest event to talk about, told of her last weeks at school.

*

Claire felt her skin freeze when the tiny third form messenger girl appeared in the 6A biology class and handed a note to the teacher.

"Claire," the teacher said. "Miss Braithwaite wishes to speak to you immediately."

Miss Braithwaite was the headmistress at Princess Alexandra College. She was a stern but respected authority figure who Claire had only really got to know in her senior year.

As they walked along the corridor, the younger girl stared with respect at Claire's jacket supporting a silver prefect's badge. "You look nervous," she said. "Trouble?"

Claire bit on her bottom lip. "You could say that," she replied.

The girl grinned. "And I thought it was only the fourth form girls who got into trouble. Of course the 3D girls are a ripe pain in the butt."

"And what form are you in…?"

"Anne. I'm in 3A2. Mum reckons if it wasn't for my poor spelling I'd be in 3A1..."

Anne rattled on, so by the time they reached the administration area near the main entrance, Claire felt a little better. Anne returned to the desk allocated to the duty girl next to the main office and gave her a grin of encouragement.

"You can go straight in, Claire," the office assistant said.

Miss Braithwaite was not sitting behind her massive oaken desk but in an armchair beside it. "Sit down, Claire," she said in a soft voice and waved to the second armchair in the room. She waited until Claire sat on the edge of it and opened a folder resting on her knees.

"Your mother rang," she began. "She said that you are being withdrawn from our school because of your domestic situation. It appears that you have become impregnated."

Claire stared at the floor but could not stop her hands shaking or the ballooning tears in her eyes. She nodded and waited for the lecture about her lack of morals and how she let the school down. Instead, Miss Braithwaite handed her a paper tissue and waited until her sobs subsided.

"Your mother told me very little, Claire. Would you like to talk about it? "

Claire shrugged. "Not really." She glanced up and saw the headmistress's eyes firmly fixed on herself. She flushed and blew her nose into the tissue. "I'm sorry, Miss Braithwaite. I did not mean to be disrespectful. It's just that…" Her attempt to control her crying only made it worse as her tears dropped onto the carpet. "I don't know what to do, Miss Braithwaite?" She shook her head and burst into tears again.

Miss Braithwaite frowned and consulted her notes. "Your father is a vicar in the Anglican Church our school is associated with, I believe."

"Yeah," Claire's voice became bitter. "The…" She bit on her lip to stop the word bastard from coming up and muttered. "He blames me for everything."

"In this situation, parents often find it hard to say what they feel within their hearts, Claire."

Claire leaped to her feet and stood there trembling. "Oh he told me exactly what he thought, Miss Braithwaite and in no uncertain terms. I was a slut and a whore. He's not the mild minister the local parishioners think but an autocratic bully. Even Mum's scared of him."

She waited for a reprimand but the headmistress also stood, placed an arm out and guided her back to the armchair. Miss Braithwaite pressed an intercom button on her desk. "Alison, can we have that tray of tea and scones please?"

"At once, Miss Braithwaite," the office assistant's voice came back through the speaker.

A moment later the woman appeared with a tray covered in a lace cloth covering a silver teapot, two cups and a tray of steaming scones. Claire realised they must have been there, waiting. There was no way Alison Fromont could have prepared them in that short time.

"I guess you'd prefer a soft drink," the headmistress said as she poured the tea.

"It's fine thank you," Claire replied. "I often drink tea or coffee at home."

"Sugar and milk?"

"Both please."

Claire didn't really like the taste of tea but found the hot drink relaxing. She took the scone offered to her and nibbled the edge of it.

"Why are you being so understanding, Miss Braithwaite?" she asked. "Everyone else has written me off..."

"Written you off, Claire?"

"Why is it always our fault? We are expected to be ... oh be so prim and proper yet men can do whatever they wish and become heroes if they shag around yet we..." Claire gulped when she remembered where she was. "I'm sorry, Miss Braithwaite."

"And your immediate future, Claire?"

Claire shrugged. "What future, Miss Braithwaite?" she asked.

*

Claire glanced across the Land Rover at Hazel before she switched her eyes to the snow and darkness outside. "Two days later Miss Braithwaite gave me information about adopting the baby out and told me about your offer to take me. Here I am. That was three weeks ago. "

"I went to school with Patricia Braithwaite," Hazel said. "We were actually good friends."

"What?" Claire gasped.

"It must have been that night when she phoned and asked if we could take you."

"She did? I thought it was the doctor who arranged it all."

"Patricia said she wanted you to be with someone she knew rather than a total stranger. Most hosts who provide a home for girls in your situation are excellent but a few exploit them, shall we say."

"Like what?”

"Nothing sinister," Hazel said. "We are given an allowance from the government to help to feed you and so forth and in return you are expected to do light duties around the farm."

"So?"

"A few regard the girls as a source of cheap labour."

"But why did Miss Braithwaite do this?"

Hazel smiled. "I think you are highly regarded at the girls' college. Teachers, even headmistresses are caring people, you know. Without Patricia's high recommendation, I probably wouldn't have agreed to take you. She's also arranged for you to complete your Higher School Certificate work through Correspondence School. The first bag of lessons has already arrived at home."

"Oh hell," Claire whispered. "I didn't know. Thank you."

"I'm glad Alan and I can help, Claire," Hazel whispered and reached across to squeeze her leg.

Claire saw her companion gaze out the windscreen with a far away look in her eyes. There was something in that expression. It was as if she really did understand.

Hazel turned and smiled. "The last hill," she said. "We can see the house from this top bend. I left all the lights on." She glanced in the rear vision mirror. "We left Alan behind, too. I hope he's not too cold on the tractor."

*

It was easy to see where they were going for the only tracks in the snow-covered road came from a driveway. Hazel turned the Land Rover in over a cattle stop and Claire saw a sign on the wooden fence.

"Knotted Pine Farm. That's a nice name."

"Yes. I think my grandparents named it. The tree itself has long gone."

"Your grandparents?" Claire asked.

Hazel nodded. "The farm is owned by my father. When Mum died a few years ago, Alan and I shifted back to help Dad and I guess we just stayed on. A few months ago we persuaded him to move to Taihape and we shifted into the main house from a smaller one along the road. He has a little house in town and spends most of his time playing bowls. Even though he grumbles a lot, I'm sure he enjoys being in close contact with his friends."

She drove through a long curving driveway towards the house. The snow on the ground reflected the house lights and Claire could see it piled on fence posts, tree boughs and the farm buildings. The snow had stopped falling and a half moon peeped out from behind the clouds. The whole area looked like a Christmas card scene. Smoke from a house chimney was rising straight up in the still air.

"It's beautiful," Claire whispered.

"Yes, it is," Hazel said. "Doesn't last though. Usually after a day or two, it turns to slush. The animals hate it. Most paddocks have shelter belts for them to get behind."

She drove off the gravel onto a level concrete area the size of half a tennis court and into a wide garage next to a modern car. Further along was parked a truck with a flat wooden deck and other farm machinery. A tiny dog came running out and sat near the Land Rover with its tail wagging.

"That's Jiggy," Hazel said. "She didn't want to be left behind when I took the tractor but I thought it was too cold for her."

Claire smiled and climbed down beside Jiggy. The dog backed away a little until she saw Hazel and barked happily. Claire patted her and glanced up to see a massive Persian cat amble into sight.

"Fluffy reckons she owns the place." Hazel laughed and picked the cat up.

There was an engine roar as Alan and the tractor appeared. He drove in beside the Land Rover and switched off.

"It's cold," His breath puffed out a cloud of condensation as he climbed down and picked both pets up in his arms. "And why are you two still here?" he asked. "Only a fool would be out in these conditions." He turned to Claire. "Just go inside. I'll bring your suitcase in later."

"Yes do," Hazel added. "You must be freezing in your light dress."

It was cold but Claire had to stop and glance around. To her left was another outbuilding filled with piles of firewood and an empty animal pen while to the right was the house itself. It was wooden, painted white and would have been about sixty years old with a wide back veranda lit up by several outside lights. The whole place radiated a kind of warmth and security that Claire had not felt at home.

She followed Hazel into a blast of warm air and the smell of vegetable soup. They were in a long kitchen and lounge with a fireplace along the inside wall under a massive mantelpiece covered in photographs and other paraphernalia. The wood had burnt down to embers but burst into flame when Hazel placed a couple more pieces on and stirred up the coals with a poker.

"The bathroom and toilet are through that door," Hazel said indicating a door along from the fire. "The blue towels are for you to use."

*

The Sloanes did everything to make Claire welcome and feel at home. Even the bedroom allocated to her had a wall bar heater glowing and the bed blankets were folded back to show crisp sheets beneath. There was even a vase of flowers on the dressing table and an envelope. Claire opened it to find a card to welcome her to Knotted Pine Farm. She smiled and turned when there was a knock on the door.

Hazel poked her head in. "There's a bowl of soup in the kitchen," she said.

"You're so kind," Claire whispered. "The flowers and card. I never expected this sort of treatment." She felt a surge of tears but this time managed to stop them from flowing. "I few hours ago I felt totally alone but now..." She smiled. "Oh Hazel, thank you."

"I think you impressed Alan. He said he expected a spotty nosed kid as big as a balloon in an old raincoat who couldn't sling three words together without swearing."

"That'll come," Claire whispered.

"What the ballooning figure or the swearing?"

Claire laughed.  "Both probably."

"Oh one more thing," Hazel said. "That bathroom you used is exclusively yours. We've got our own one up the front. So spread yourself out and just make yourself at home."

"Oh hell," Claire replied, gulped and put a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, I've started already."

"That's okay. You should hear Alan when he gets mad with the dogs." Hazel swung around. "Come and have that soup before it gets cold."

*

Forty minutes later Claire was in bed and, for the first time in weeks, fell asleep and straight into a dream which was unusual in that it was not a nightmare that jerked her awake perspiring and shaking with dreams of being attacked. This time she was back at primary school painting a picture of the Land Rover in the snow. In her subconscious mind, she knew the two didn't relate in time but it was a pleasant dream with that security she had not felt since she had been told she was pregnant.

Sunlight streamed into her bedroom at Knotted Pine Farm when she awoke and glanced at her watch. It was after nine o'clock. What would Alan and Hazel think? She tossed the blankets aside and was about to jump out of bed when she saw a small note by the bedside lamp.

Shivering in the cold air, she picked it up to read.

Hi Claire,

There is no need to rush. Alan and I have taken a load of hay out to feed the animals and will be back by mid-morning. You'll find some old clothes on the dresser. If you'd like to use them, please do. Breakfast is on the stove and table. Take whatever you wish. Perhaps you could stoke up the fire in the kitchen when you get up.

Oh yes, Fluffy has been fed. Don't let him tell you otherwise.  Jiggy and the farm dogs are with us.

See you soon

Hazel

Claire grinned as she picked up the jeans, blouse and woollen jersey. They seemed to fit the farm, somehow. She found her other clothes and headed off to the bathroom before she realised something else.

For the first time in over a week, she was not suffering from morning sickness.

Next Chapter >>>