Synopsis

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Cpt 2

Cpt 3

Cpt 4

Cpt 5

Cpt 7

Cpt 8

Cpt 9

Cpt 10

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In theory the prongs at the front of the tractor slipped under four hay bales, piled in two rows of two. These were tipped back into the bucket section of the loader, raised and carried around to the trailer where they could be lowered onto the decking and the tractor reversed out ready to get another load.

Claire handled the hydraulic system quite well but when she approached the hay, the prongs went though the bales rather than under them. After several attempts she had no success so decided, on Bob's advice to move them anyway. On her next try the prongs went too low and when Claire raised the bucket, nine bales rose up. The end ones leaned perilously sideways while another crashed to the ground and split open.

"Keep going!" Bob shouted.

"Why not?" Claire muttered, reversed back with a roar, braked and moved over to the trailer. By mistake she tipped rather than lowered the eight remaining bales and they crashed down in a pile.

Bob chuckled. "Well, they're there," he said.

Her second load was a little more successful with five bales transferred across. One split on impact and the trailer was covered in loose hay.

"What a mess." Claire jumped down to the ground and pulled herself onto the trailer. She shoved and heaved until she managed to move the bales at the rear forward so there was now space for a third load. Even though she wore mittens, sharp needles of hay poked though and her clothes were covered in spiky pieces.

"You're a country girl now," Bob called up at her.

"Yeah. If Miss Braithwaite could see me..."

She managed to move three more loads across the trailer that now resembled an old-fashioned haystack or pyramid with the centre piled high and bales arranged haphazardly all over the place. She grinned, reversed the tractor back to the trailer and helped Bob bolt it on. The two farm dogs were let off their chains and jumped onto the trailer. Jiggy ran out from the house, sat beside the tractor and barked.

"She usually sits in that toolbox beside the driver's seat," Bob said.

"Right," Claire lifted the little dog up. Jiggy sat up with her tail thumping, ready to go.

"Now the old fellow," Bob muttered. He disappeared into the shed and returned with a small stepladder. He climbed onto the trailer and sat down with his legs dangling over the side. "Take it away, Claire," he yelled.

*

The actual feeding out was relatively easy with Bob taking over driving through the cattle paddock. He used the hand throttle instead of the accelerator and his good foot to depress the clutch or use the brake. Claire stood on the trailer, sliced the string off bales and threw the sections to the left or right where the cattle grabbed whole hunks in their mouths. Huge tongues curled around hay and devoured it. The two farm dogs had jumped off earlier and stood guard by the open gate while Jiggy sat beside Claire with her tail wagging.

After the cattle had been given about three quarters of the hay and they went back to the farm track, Claire closed the gate and took over the driving again. She watched apprehensively as Bob manoeuvred himself on a wooden box he'd pulled off the trailer and used it as a step to climb aboard. He whistled the dogs who jumped aboard and they were off up the steep section.

Claire felt nervous but managed well on the somewhat muddy track where the snow had melted in all but the shady spots. The chained back wheels coped easily with the slush. She stopped at the gate that was shut from the day before and glanced down the valley. The truck was still there, of course but the hay around had either been eaten or trampled in mud. Sheep were dotted around the hillside like dirty grey objects against the frosty grass.

"Keep going to the top," Bob shouted. "Just take it slowly on the steep part."

Again Claire handled the tractor well though perhaps she went a little too close to the cliff opposite the place where the truck had gone over. They arrived at the top paddock and she stopped. Bob slid off the trailer and smiled at her.

"You did well," he said. "Have a wee rest while I bring the sheep back up."

Before Claire could reply he limped off with the two farm dogs at his side. As usual, Jiggy stayed with her. Bob whistled and yelled while the dogs tore up the track and down the hill. Within moments a closely packed mob of sheep appeared and charged through the gate.

"Good dogs," Bob praised and rubbed each of them around the ears. They sat panting and wagged their tails as if proud of the job they'd done.  "Right, Claire, the last bit and just on time, too," he said and nodded to the hill behind.

Claire turned. Huge almost purple clouds filled half the sky. "Thunder storm?" she called.

"No. Snow. More than yesterday I reckon. We'll feed the sheep and head for home."

*

They were half way back to the house when a few flakes of snow dropped straight down ahead of the tractor. This lasted several seconds before a mass of snow tumbled down so thickly that the track ahead almost disappeared in the dim light. Claire was mesmerised as snow landed everywhere. Her hair and shoulders became covered as the snow settled on every horizontal surface around. Bits even stuck on the steering wheel and her gloves. Except for the throb of the engine it was so quiet. The snow sort of drifted onto the road ahead and by the time they were back near the sheep paddock there was no road, just snow that stretched from fence to fence where the posts and battens had a coating of snow on them.

Claire shuddered. A slither of freezing water had slid under her collar and down her back. She reached up and folded her collar up, brushed snow off her eyebrows and ignored her freezing cheeks. This new experience was surreal. It was a fairy world like in books she had read as a child of an English Christmas. With the hot summer sun outside she had not really been able to imagine what it was like. But here she was right in the middle of it. She hummed a carol and looked out for the farm buildings ahead.

The present though jerked back into her mind when Bob shouted. The tractor bumped and she realised she was too close to the right fence. Oh hell, she had almost driven off the track. She swung the steering wheel left and straightened up when she was more or less in the middle between the two fences.

"Sorry!" she called back, wiped snow from her eyes and concentrated on the driving.

*

With all the outside chores done, Claire and Bob walked into the kitchen and she removed her coat. For the first time she realised that everything else she wore was wet and she shivered with the cold.

"You will get a cold if you stay in wet clothes. Go and take a hot bath," Bob said.

"Can we get through to the Wanganui Hospital first to see how Alan and Hazel are?" Claire asked.

Bob nodded. "I was about to say the same thing." He walked down the corridor to the telephone but returned seconds later. "Line's out," he said. "The snow short-circuits the wires. Last winter they were out for three days." He grimaced. "At least we still have electricity. That can go too after a heavy snow storm."

Claire felt disappointed but tried to remain positive. At least she wasn't alone. She helped Bob get the fire going and went to run the bath. After a long hot soak she dressed in dry clothes, a blouse and skirt.  Damn she'd left a jersey in the bedroom. She gathered up her wet clothes and slipped across to the bedroom. Near the bottom of her suitcase was an orange knitted jersey that her mother had poked in against her own advice. Now, though, she realised it would be a good one to wear. As she pulled it out a pink envelope fell onto the floor.

She picked it up and lifted the folded in back flap. There was a small passbook and letter inside. The red and grey coloured booklet looked familiar but this one was new. It was a Post Office Savings Bank Book. She opened it and gasped. There under her name was a post office stamp dated the day before she came north that showed a deposit of five hundred pounds. This was more than double the money she had saved in her entire life,

She unfolded the letter, sat on the bed and read it.

Dearest Claire,

Please take this money as a late present for your eighteenth birthday, last month. I guess you blame me for what happened and I understand. I should have helped. I'm so, so sorry My Dear but, though you won't believe me now I was a victim too, you know.

It is no excuse but you are really all I have. Spend the money however you wish for it is yours. I saved it up over the last five years without telling your father. Please remember me and when the anger has subsided write to me. If you wish you can use my work address.

I love you

Mum

*

Claire's hands trembled as she folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. The high spirits of a few minutes ago had gone and she shook her head. Tears had risen and were already rolling down her face.

She brushed them aside and wriggled into the orange jersey. "Oh Mum," she whispered. "I was angry but it wasn't really at you."

Again remorse overcame her and more tears rolled down her face and plopped onto the carpet. She tried to hold them back but only succeeded in sobbing as the room became blurred through even more tears.

"It catches up with you doesn't it," said a soft voice. "Was it something in your suitcase?"

Claire glanced up and saw Bob sitting on the other side of the bed. He made no effort to reach over and touch her. Instead he just patted Fluffy who was in his arms. His eyes, though, showed the compassion Claire had noticed earlier.

She nodded and attempted to talk but only shuddering sobs came out.

"Here," Bob said. He handed her a handkerchief and placed Fluffy on her lap. The cat seemed to sense something was wrong and raised her head up. Claire cuddled Fluffy and let the tears flow for several moments.

"Would you like me to go?" Bob whispered.

Claire shook her head. "No. Please stay. I'm sorry to spoil what's been a wonderful day."

"There is nothing to be sorry about." Bob glanced at the passbook. "Yours?" he asked.

"We had a terrible row," Claire sobbed. "Yet Mum gave me all her savings. She was saving for a new car but..." Claire burst into tears again and handed Bob the letter. "Read it if you wish."

Bob thanked her and read the brief note. "It's from the heart, Claire. I can't say I understand the circumstances but your Mum sounds genuine. If would like to tell me about it now, I'm here to listen. Hazel always said I was a good listener. If it is still too hard, that is also fine. I'll get something cooked for lunch." He glanced at his watch. "If you can call almost three o'clock in the afternoon lunchtime."

Claire patted Fluffy and looked at Bob through her tears. "Thank you, Bob," she whispered. "One day perhaps.

"Come into the kitchen," Bob said. "The fire's roaring and I found some coffee in the cupboard. I'll make you a hot drink."

He stood back and Claire, still holding Fluffy, slipped past and walked into the kitchen. She sat on the sofa near the fire and waited while Bob made a coffee. He handed her a mug along with a shortbread biscuit, sat in the armchair across the mat and talked about the farm.

"I didn't care where the train took me," she interrupted when Bob paused to sip his drink. "Then Alan came up to me on the station and here I am. And now they had this terrible accident and... I tried to talk to Mum but she said ... oh perhaps I got her wrong."  She wiped her eyes and opened the passbook. "I never thought she would do this."

"So what do you want to do now, Claire?" Bob asked.

"What can I do?"

"Look at the snow outside."

Claire looked up out the window. It was still snowing but not as heavily as earlier. Already the lawn and hedge were covered. The garage and other buildings had snow on the roof and the tracks made by the tractor had almost disappeared, "Its beautiful," Claire whispered but wondered why Bob had changed the topic.

"Every snowflake is different. There are millions of them on our farm right now. You are delicate like a snowflake, Claire. Remember, though, that a snowflake is never alone. And neither are you. I will help you and so will Hazel and Alan when they come home. Others will help too, I am sure. You are not alone. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Claire glanced up at Bob and burst into tears again. This time, he did stand. He limped over, sat on the couch beside her and placed an arm gently around her shoulders while she sobbed and leaned against him.

The kind, gentle man just held her as she stared into the flames curling around the pieces of wood in the fireplace and held her mother's passbook and letter in her hand.

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