Where The Morepork Calls
Jeannette Cavanagh
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Jeannette Cavanagh
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CHAPTER ONE
HOMECOMING
January 1987 (Saturday, towards the end of the month)
Sitting at the window Kate stared out as the plane banked steeply. Far below, she could see the dark waters and muddy shores of Manukau Harbour, then suddenly the plane dropped out of the sky and the runway came rushing up to meet them. There was a dull thud as swiftly, smoothly they touched down and she heard the familiar roar of the engines protesting against the reverse thrust of the massive jet.
As the huge plane taxied slowly towards the buildings Kate scratched in her bag for her mirror and gave herself a cursory check. The flight from London had been a long one. She had lost count of the hours, but after leaving Honolulu she had slept fitfully, glancing with envy at the elderly couple beside her who were both tucked up in their blankets, sound asleep. Tense and wakeful she wanted the flight to be over and was relieved when at last she saw land rushing up to meet them.
Breakfast had been served an hour earlier. Not hungry she had toyed with the food, trying to smother the torpid void that enveloped her. It was January 1987, she'd been away four years. A long time. She knew she should be happy to be home but she felt nothing. Just this numbness that had remained with her ever since Roger...., she pushed the thought away and handed her uneaten food back to the steward.
The cabin crew rose and moved to their allotted landing stations and the plane rolled quietly to a stop.
Kate watched with little interest as people gathered their belongings. Heard the clicking of overhead compartments being opened and shut, as bags were dragged down. The exit doors were not open but people pushed forward into the aisle, anxious to be first off the plane.
Next to her the elderly couple showed no signs of moving and Kate was content to sit with them, and wait until the first rush was over. There was always a delay at the carousel before the bags started to plop down onto the moving belt.
Finally the doors were swung open. The crowd began to move forwards. Three young men in torn jeans went first, laughing and talking to each other. A mother with two wide-eyed children. A Dutch family, some Americans. Kate amused herself for a while, guessing the nationality of the various passengers, then her mind turned to the farm. Would there be any changes since she left. She pictured her parents. Margaret, calm and detached as always, and Guy, with eyes twinkling under bushy brows, busy running the small empire he had created.
Over the years he had developed a foresight which enabled him to pre-judge market trends and move quickly to take advantage of changing demands and price swings. This had made him not only the most influential farmer in the district but one of the most successful farmers in the country.
Kate had always been very close to her father and when the news of his heart attack reached her, she felt as though the foundation of her life had fallen away. She had always believed Guy to be invincible. Someone who would always be there.
Even in London, twelve thousand miles away, she derived a feeling of security, knowing he was there if she needed him. Then suddenly her security had been threatened. He had survived, but she knew he was no longer invincible. There was a shadow lurking, replacing the security he evoked with niggling anxiety.
The elderly couple rose and made their way off the plane. Flicking her long hair off her shoulders Kate followed them down the aisle.
Through customs, Kate moved over to the carousel to retrieve her luggage. She didn't have long to wait before her bags came plopping down onto the moving belt. Following the green arrows Kate moved out to where the crowd of expectant people pressed forward eagerly, searching for their loved ones. Her gaze swept briefly over the unfamiliar faces as she forced her recalcitrant trolley ahead, past the main crowd to where there was only a scattering of people standing about, waiting.
"Kate," Margaret Sailsbury's voice was quiet and controlled as always. She turned. The numbness inside her eased a little, giving way to an unexpected rush of pleasure, as she watched the familiar figure walking towards her.
Margaret hadn't changed. In soft green slacks and a silk blouse, with her dark hair brushed back off her face, and brown eyes that smiled quietly, she stepped deftly past a couple of boisterous children and walked towards Kate. Her tread was calm and unhurried, her dignity, as always, intact.
"Hello, Kate," her smile displayed the genuine pleasure she felt as she leaned forward to kiss her only daughter. Kate was assailed by the familiar combination of fragrances. Apple shampoo and White Satin. Nothing had changed. She almost laughed out loud.
"Mum," they hugged briefly, Kate deliberately holding back, knowing Margaret would not welcome an effusive display of affection. It had always been like this.
Her mind went back to boarding school days and the end of term. With her suitcase packed she would wait with her friends, their conversation desultory as they watched the cars sweeping up the drive to the boarding establishment, their minds already leaping ahead to the leisurely days stretching in front of them.
"Are you going away for the hols?"
"No, just to the farm."
"My parents are away in the States so I am going to my gran."
"Do you mind?"
"No, not really. She's quite neat. O,oh, look at that car. I say Kate, those are your parents. That's a new car isn't it? Is that your brother in the back? I didn't know you had a brother?"
A brother, so long as he was of a reasonable age, was always a useful asset to have at school. Heady with happiness, Kate would leave her friends giggling to themselves and run down the steps to be swept into her father's strong embrace. Still bubbling over in anticipation of the holidays and the delicious freedom from the rigid disciplines of boarding she would turn to where her mother stood quietly, waiting.
Excited and happy, she had always been taken aback by the controlled dignity of her mother's greeting. In those teenage years it had acted as a damper, quelling her exuberance, marring the exquisite joy of the moment. Now, it was somehow, reassuring and familiar and she was grateful.
"Where's Dad?" she looked around, expectant.
"He didn't come, we'll be home soon, you can see him then." Margaret told her. "The whole family will be at dinner tonight so we felt it was better if he didn't tire himself unnecessarily by coming to the airport." Her mother's tone was calm and untroubled but Kate frowned as a little chill of anxiety edged back into her mind.
"That bad?" She couldn't imagine her father an invalid. He had always been such a vital person. Abounding with energy, always busy. Somehow, even though she had known he had suffered a heart attack she hadn't expected this.
"No, not really," said Margaret. They stepped out into the sunshine and walked towards the car, Kate still battling with her rebellious trolley. "He's fine now, this was just a precaution." Seeing Kate's struggle she put a firm hand onto the handle of the trolley and together they managed to keep it reasonably under control.
"Don't forget he hasn't long been out of hospital," she continued, her voice purposefully reassuring.
They loaded the bags into Guy's grey Audi, Kate walked round to the passenger side and waited while her mother unlocked the doors. Then she climbed in, dumped her handbag in the back, buckled her seat belt and sat back to enjoy the drive.
Margaret's driving, like everything else about her was conservative but efficient and it wasn't long before they were out of the traffic and speeding north on the highway.
"Now, I want to hear all about your job, about London and what you have been doing," Margaret smiled warmly at her then turned her attention back to the road. Taken aback Kate felt a little ill at ease. She wasn't used to mother and daughter confidences and where once she might have welcomed them , now she felt awkward and searched desperately for a starting point.
"Your secretary, Vicky wasn't it. Seems to be a good friend." Margaret prodded gently, sensing Kate's reticence.
"Yes," Kate smiled as her mind went back to the hilarious but somewhat tearful evening they had spent together on the eve of her departure.
Vicky, with a bottle of Bailey's under her arm, had arrived to help with the last minute packing. Sipping the rich liqueur it wasn't long before all sense of reason departed leaving the two girls giggling helplessly over past memories and dissolving periodically into tears at the thought of Kate's impending departure.
"Vicky was great," she nodded, then stumbled on. "I really enjoyed London but it's good to be home." She looked appreciatively at the tranquil beauty of the bays and beautiful beaches and the deep unhappiness that numbed all feeling lifted a little. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it all is."
"How long have you got. You don't have to rush back to your job do you?"
Kate said nothing for a moment. Her farewells in London had been permanent but was she ready to commit to a life back in New Zealand? She wasn't sure and wanted the freedom to make up her own mind without the pressures from family and friends.
"Bramley's were very good, they're holding my job open for me," she said. Well, it was almost true. When she handed in her resignation Ronald Braithwaite told her.
"If you are ever in London again give me a call, we're very sorry to lose you and would love to have you back on board. Even if there is no vacancy I'm sure we'll fit you in somewhere."
Kate turned to her mother. Asking about her brothers she deftly steered the conversation away from herself.
"What's been happening in Kaihia while I've been away? How are Peter and Amy and the children, and you must tell me all about Simon. Is he really enjoying working for Gramps?" Margaret willingly fell into the trap.
"Peter and Amy are fine, they have achieved great things at Hazy View. You won't recognise the place. And Amy has a beautiful garden."
"She must take after her mother-in-law," Kate laughed, referring to Margaret's love of gardening.
"Yes, well, I think she does enjoy gardening as much as I do. And of course, it is so good to have them all so close.
Your father and I really enjoy our grandchildren. Timothy's at school now and Lucy is a dear little soul."
"And Simon?'
"He loves working for Markham Douglas, and of course, its the best thing that could have happened for Doug. You know how keen he has always been to have someone in the family join him. Simon and Doug have always got on really well. I'm sure it won't be long now before Doug hands the business over. He's not getting any younger and it's time he retired so he and Mary can enjoy life before they get too old."
They chatted companionably as the car powered north.
It was two hours drive to Kaihia and the traffic was heavy until they left Auckland behind, then just past Albany it thinned away to a trickle. When she had momentarily exhausted family news, Margaret proceeded to bring Kate up to date with all the latest happenings in Kaihia, the farming district where they lived.
Lulled by the regular purr from the engine and the warm sun coming in through the window, sleep invaded Kate. Her eyelids grew heavy and she fought desperately to concentrate on her mother's conversation. She longed to drop into the delicious sleep that temptingly beckoned. Tiredness enveloped her like a mantle, cloaking all other emotions. She tried to concentrate on the road signs, forcing her eyes to stay open. What was that her mother was saying.
"Bruce, oh, yes," forgotten images tugged at her memory. "What is he doing now?"
"I've just told you, dear. He's an agricultural advisory officer and was lucky enough to be posted here in Kaihia." Kate allowed her eyes to close and for one sweet, blissful second felt sleep steal over her. Margaret's voice continued.
"He married Stephanie Beddock."
"Stephanie?" Kate pushed her eyes open and made a valiant effort to stay in the conversation. Stephanie had come on the scene not long before she left for London. Kate remembered her as being quite nice, a bit spoilt and demanding maybe, but nice. A very attractive girl and fun to be with, which was what attracted her to Bruce. From Auckland, she was the only daughter of wealthy parents. No one had really expected anything to come of her friendship with Bruce. He was such an outdoors type, keen on mountaineering, camping and fishing, whereas Stephanie with her sun-bed tan, immaculate hair and designer clothes shuddered at the thought of getting dirt under her carefully lacquered nails.
Knowing Bruce as she did Kate decided Stephanie's values must have altered. Kate had grown up with Bruce McGehan. The McGehan's and Sailsbury's had farmed in the same district and been close family friends for as long as she could remember. Kate's younger brother Simon, and Bruce had been inseparable as youngsters and together with Kate had often made up a trio riding their ponies across the paddocks with the happy abandonment of childhood. But as he grew older Bruce had changed his interests to mountaineering and Kate knew this had become a big part of his life.
"Does Stephanie join Bruce on his expeditions?"
"No," Margaret laughed at such a ludicrous idea. "But Bruce refuses to give it up and I believe this has caused some problems in their marriage."
Kate smiled to herself at her mother's words. Now she knew she was home. Where everyone knew more about your life than you knew yourself, and what they didn't know they happily made up and passed on to each other, building webs of intrigue to brighten their dull days, regardless of the pain they were inflicting on their hapless victims.
Past the Whangaparoa Peninsula and through tree shaded Orewa, where the sea lapped gently along the white beach. The miles dropped away behind them as the big car sped north. Kate was relieved when at last they turned off the main road and headed towards Kaihia. They by-passed the small town and tarseal gave way to a well kept gravel road. Kate knew every bend and twist of this road, it had been as much a part of her life as had the farm, and up ahead, just past the next bend she would see the sign. It was wooden and painted white with charcoal grey writing that read. 'Grey Cliffs' and underneath...G.D. & M.G. Sailsbury. They were home.
Margaret slowed down and turned into the driveway. The heavy tyres crunched on the gravel. Graceful silver birch trees lined the drive and underneath, white daisies bobbed their shy heads and multi-coloured impatiens lifted friendly faces to the sun. The narrow road took them up past the calf paddock, round a corner to where trees gave way to banks of hydrangeas, and the house came into view.
It was all just as she remembered it. The colourful garden where Margaret spent so much of her time creating a poetry of colour and form. With smooth lawns and showy herbaceous borders, flowering shrubs and tall trees, and in a shady corner frothing ferns tumbling over one another interspersed with the delicate fuchsias she loved so much. Kate has forgotten how beautiful it all was. Her eye followed the slope of the lawn up to the house.
This was a sprawling, brick-faced building with wide, tall windows and a heavy wooden door. On one side stood a massive, old oak tree and beyond was the panoramic view she remembered so well. There were cattle grazing peacefully in gently rolling paddocks where she had run as a girl, with her dog Tommel, flying along ahead.
She could see the roofs of the implement sheds and the sloping paddocks beyond. Her memory carried her on to the pohutukawa trees that clung tenaciously to short cliffs which dipped down to a silvered sea.
Tommel, her little half-bred spaniel. It was a long time since she had thought about him. Now she remembered his wide spaniel ears and the way his golden coat curled tightly against his skin in unspaniel-like fashion. She had buried him finally, at the bottom of the garden and wondered now, if the cross was still there. He had been such a fun loving little dog and her devoted companion since she was four years old. He died peacefully in his sleep one day when he was an old man and she was just sixteen. And when she buried him she had buried her childhood beside him.
The door opened and her father came out. Grinning broadly, he came towards her, his arms stretched wide in welcome. Kate jumped out of the car and ran to him. She buried herself in his embrace enjoying the comfortably familiar smell of him. She felt the strength of his arms and was reassured then sniffed appreciatively at the clean smells of hay and earth and sun, all so dear and so familiar.
After a while she pulled away, laughing up at him.
"It's so good to see you, Dad." She studied him critically looking for signs of the illness that had caused her to travel twelve thousand miles. He looked the same. Tall and broad shouldered, tanned and fit, amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. His greying hair maybe a little greyer. There were two little patches of pallor under his eyes but she failed to notice these.
"My, it is good to see you, Katy." He used her childhood nickname. "We've missed you."
"You old fraud," she laughed. "I've never seen you looking so fit. I don't believe you've been ill at all."
Guy grinned happily.
"Had to think of something to bring you home. Otherwise you would have stayed there forever."
While they spoke Margaret busied herself unloading the suitcases.
"You two take these inside, I'll just go and park the car." She climbed back into the car and drove towards the garages. Guy stooped and picked up the two big cases.
"Should you be doing that?" Kate collected the hand luggage. She tried to keep her tone casual, knowing how much he would hate being fussed over.
"I'm fine, it was only a little hiccough and since then I have been given a clean bill of health. You really didn't need to come home if that was the only reason for your coming."
"Mmm, well, that's not what I heard from Mum. What was the result of the tests? She wouldn't tell me, said I was to ask you myself?"
"I told you. I was given a clean bill of health."
Kate didn't believe him but decided not to push him any further for the moment. She followed him inside to the spacious entrance hall where two huge pots supported Margaret's elaborate dried flower arrangements. A collection of grasses, twigs, leaves, berries and tall flowers, each one lovingly collected and carefully dried. They had stood there for years and occasionally Margaret would take out a tired or broken twig and replace it with something new to keep the arrangements looking as fresh as the day she first did them. Kate followed Guy up the passage, past the lounge and the study. From memory she visualised the dining room that lay beyond which led into the family room and then on into the kitchen. She wanted to go through it all again, to reassure herself she was really home, to try and bring back the feeling of belonging. But Guy had gone on ahead. She hurried after him. There would be time to explore later.
They were at her room now, the door was open and there was a soft breeze disturbing the curtains. Guy carried her suitcases in ahead of her.
"I'm going to put the jug on, your mother will be ready for a cup of tea." He deposited the cases on the floor. "You probably want to wash and freshen up a bit. When you're ready we'll be in the conservatory."
He left her then and Kate looked about her. It was a big room, done out in soft greens with a hint of apricot picked up in the wallpaper. She loved the peaceful colours, just as she loved the wide windows which she always threw open, regardless of the weather, enjoying the fresh smells coming in from the farm. Her eyes rested on the vase of summer flowers seated on a small table. It was late January and her mother's garden was at its best, the rich soil combined with lavish watering and the heat of summer had produced an abundance of blooms. Gladioli, larkspur, gerbera, and antirrhinum gathered in a riot of colour. Kate was touched. Margaret would have picked them herself to welcome her home.
She knew she should hurry. Tea would be ready with Margaret and Guy waiting for her to join them. But instead she wandered about, opening cupboards and drawers, touching old books and pictures, allowing herself time to absorb past familiarity.
On the wall hung a huge board covered in photographs. Pausing, she allowed her eyes to glance over them, then pulled herself away. Time for that later. She moved to the window and leaned out, drinking in the tranquillity of the scene before her. Blue, blue sky spinning away, up and on into infinity. And under the blueness hung the long, white clouds dappling the grass with graceful patterns of shade. Nowhere in the world, she thought, could the sky be so blue or the grass so green.
A movement caught her eye where a speckled thrush moved about picking for worms at the base of the oak and, somewhere, she could here a blackbird singing. It was all so quiet and peaceful after the hurly burly of London. And so clean. She breathed deeply, the air was sweet with the smell of fresh mown hay mixed in with the barely discernible tang of the sea drifting up from the ocean below. Memories stirred and she promised herself she would go down to the sea in the morning and walk barefoot in the sand as she used to. Her mind drifted on butterfly wings, flitting from one memory to another. Memories stored for so long in the hidden closets of her mind. She was eight years old staying with her grandparents on their apple orchard at Ruby Bay. A smile came to her lips as she remembered how Granny Miller would suddenly stop in the middle of a busy day and say. "Come on, let's go down to the beach and get sand between our toes." And they would go, down the clay path, Simon racing ahead, his blonde head disappearing as he crashed through trees and bushes in his haste, while Kate followed more sedately with her grandmother. It always puzzled her the way Granny Miller insisted they would get sand between their toes, because at Ruby Bay where the clay path ended and the beach began there was no sand. Only driftwood, bleached white by the sun, and pebbles and sea washed stones rolling down to the waters edge. Kate smiled as she remembered Granny Miller's answer to that question.
"If you think you are going to get sand between your toes then that is what you'll get, but if you think you are going to walk on pebbles, well, the pebbles will always be there waiting for you." At eight years old she had been too young to understand the wisdom of that remark and now, twenty years later had she forgotten to live by that wisdom. Had she allowed the sand to filter away and leave her standing on hard, cutting stones, or was it through some force beyond her control.
She looked at her watch it was just after five in the afternoon. In London it would be still be dark, with morning not yet broken. Dark and cold, mid winter. Her mind drifted and the pain came flooding back. She forced it from her, closing out the imaginings.
Drawing back our of the window she hurried to the bathroom to wash and tidy up. Her parents would be wondering what had happened to her and she tried to shake off her strange reluctance to join them. She wasn't ready to face the inevitable questions and probing looks and would have preferred to stay in her room. Did it show she wondered? Did one look different, and if so would they notice? She went back down the passage, through the lounge and into the conservatory.
The evening was drawing in and there was a cool breeze coming in through the open windows. The conservatory looked like an extension of her mother's garden, filled as it was with ferns, more fuchsias, kangaroo vine and cyclamen all thriving in the sheltered atmosphere.
"There you are," Margaret picked up the teapot, filled her waiting cup and passed it over. Kate shook her head at the biscuits Guy proffered.
"No, thanks. I'm still full of all the plastic airline food." She felt awkward, not sure what to say to them and searched her mind for some common ground.
"Simon will be here later," Guy informed her, breaking the silence. "As you know he joined Gramps at Markham Douglas when he finished University. That must be two years ago now," he mused.
"Yes," Kate nodded. "But today is Saturday. Surely he's not working today?"
"Don't you believe it," Guy laughed. "He never stops working. Gramps says he has to practically lock him out to get him to give up and go home in the evenings. In the beginning there was so much he wanted to learn about the business and now he has introduced some very innovative ideas to try and cut production time and reduce costs."
"He must be enjoying the work then?"
"Loves it, and having him there has given Gramps a whole new lease on life. You know how long he has wanted to have somebody from the family join him in his firm. I don't think he ever quite got over the disappointment when I said I wanted to go farming instead of going to work with him." Guy placed his empty cup back in the saucer and pursed his lips. "Then, when he couldn't have his son, he set his sights on having one of his grandsons." He laughed ruefully. "Peter turned out to be just as hopeless as I was as far as industrial material goes. But Simon has saved the family honour. Gramps couldn't quite believe it when Simon finally joined him."
"Simon always did enjoy going to work with Gramps, even when he was little." Kate mused.
"I know, but after two disappointments I think Gramps had given up."
"I would hardly call either you or and Peter a disappointment." Margaret protested, smiling at her husband.
"No, well, you know what I mean. We were, as far as the family business was concerned."
"And Peter and family, are they all well?" Kate knew it was expected of her to inquire after the family. "Peter never wrote but I did get one or two letters from Amy although I haven't heard from her for ages."
"They're fine," said Margaret. "Of course the farm keeps Peter busy and with the two children Amy has a lot to do." Kate smiled ruefully to herself as she detected the faint disapproval in Margaret's tone. She knew her mother thought it was time she too was married and busy with children.
"They will be over this evening," Margaret continued. "And you can see them for yourself. You won't recognise the children. Lucy was only a baby when you left, wasn't she? And Timothy, of course, is at school now."
Guy stood up. "You'll have to excuse me for a while. There are a few jobs I must see to before it gets too dark. We'll talk later." Kate looked across at Margaret.
"I'll come and help you with dinner." Margaret shook her head. "No, not on your first night. I have everything organised. You probably want to unpack." She glanced up at her daughter and noticed the rings of tiredness under her eyes.
"On second thoughts, why don't you leave the unpacking and have a hot bath and a lie down. It will freshen you up for this evening. I can come and wake you before everyone arrives."
"Thanks, Mum, you're a brick. I think I'll do just that." Thankfully Kate returned to her room. She opened her suitcase and rummaged around looking for something to wear for the evening. It would be a relief to get unpacked but that could wait till morning. Armed with sponge bag and the thick towels her mother had put out for her she set off for the bathroom. Here, she turned the taps on full, tipped a liberal sprinkling of bath salts into the water then undressed slowly as she watched the steaming water gushing into the bath. Stepping with relief out of her crumpled clothes she twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head then sank into the fragrant water. Leaning back, she closed her eyes allowing the warmth to envelop her, as she rested for a while. The warm water caressed her tired limbs and she washed herself leisurely, enjoying the fresh smell of the soap. Her skin felt clean again. She squeezed the sponge and idly watched bubbles as they frothed up and dropped into the water. Lulled by the warmth and her invasive tiredness she forced herself out of the water. If she stayed any longer she would fall asleep.
Dry and refreshed she padded back to the bedroom in her undies and slipped thankfully under the duvet on the big bed. She could dimly hear her mother moving about somewhere in the house while outside, the world was hushed as night began to fall. Behind the quiet, but not intrudng, cicada's had started their evening chorus. She closed her eyes and dropped instantly into oblivion.
"Time to wake up, dear." Kate's eyes flew open as she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. She stared up not comprehending for a moment. Then she sat up and rubbed her eyes briskly.
"Thanks, Mum, I feel as though I have been asleep for hours." She smiled ruefully.
"You've had a couple of hours, I left you as long as I could but everyone is here now so I thought I had better wake you."
Kate jumped out of bed and threw her dress over her head. She had hung it up earlier and most of the creases had fallen out. It was dark blue with small sleeves, a long waist and tiny lace collar. The simple cut accentuated the slim lines of her figure, and as she moved the skirt swirled gracefully around her long legs. Picking up a brush she rapidly stroked a few knots out of her hair then tossed her head so it fell shining and healthy onto her shoulders. Quickly she smudged on some lipstick and ran her fingers over perfectly shaped eyebrows. Watching her, Margaret felt inordinately proud of her lovely daughter but, as was her way, she said nothing.
"Ready?"
Kate nodded and picked up a rather bulky looking bag. Margaret raised her eyebrows.
"Presents," Kate laughed ruefully.
Walking into the lounge they were all there waiting for her. The family she had been away from for so long. Peter and her father were deep in conversation, Amy seated on the sofa sipping her drink, while her children, fed, bathed and in their pyjamas, were playing on the carpet. They all looked at Kate, smiling their welcome as she came in. Simon came over and Kate hastily dumped her bag on the floor as he caught her up in a brotherly bear hug. Then he held her at arms length studying her seriously.
"You've changed," he said accusingly. Kate nodded.
"So have you," she grinned mischievously at him, changing the subject. Simon had always been tall, but he had filled out and matured in her absence. She tried to liken this tall young man to the spindly youth she had left behind. Tanned and athletic, his thick, unruly blonde curls had been flattened with water and the energetic use of a comb and underneath, his blue eyes twinkled down at her, registering his pleasure at her return.
"Welcome home, Kate." Again she nodded and grinned back at him.
"Thanks, I'm happy to be here." Well, she thought, it was partly true. She turned to Peter and gave him a big hug.
"You haven't changed," she told her elder brother.
"Yes, he has." Simon challenged. "You just haven't looked properly." Kate stood back and gazed in mock solemnity at her elder brother.
"'He's put on a little weight," she began. "But apart from that..." She shook her head. With a martyred air Peter bent his head and she saw how the brown hair had noticeably thinned on top.
"You're going bald," she shrieked. Everyone roared with laughter. It was obviously the standing family joke.
"All right, all right, you don't all have to sound so pleased." Peter tried to look hurt. Wiping tears from her eyes Kate turned to Amy.
"What does it feel like to be married to a man who is going bald?" She asked mischievously. Amy shook her head.
"No comment," she laughed, coming up to give Kate a friendly kiss on the cheek. "It's good to have you back," she smiled quietly.
Only Timothy and Lucy hung back looking a little overwhelmed by all the fuss over this tall stranger they had been told was their aunt. Kate sat down and motioned to them with her arm.
"Timothy, won't you bring me my bag. There just may be something in there for you." With squeals of delight both children scampered over the carpet. Between them they dragged the bag over to Kate then stood back expectantly, their eyes shining with excitement. Kate opened the bag and scrummaged around in it for a second. She pulled out a doll dressed in traditional Welsh dress for Lucy. The doll was beautifully crafted out of porcelain and the workmanship of her clothes was exquisite. Margaret knelt beside Lucy and scrutinised the doll.
"Wherever did you find this?" Margaret and Guy had been to the United Kingdom some years before and Margaret had searched in vain for traditional, but out of the ordinary gifts to bring home.
"There's a little shop in Fulham that has the most wonderful things. I stumbled on it quite by accident one day."
"Aren't these just perfect?" She held up a collection of lead soldiers. Timothy edged closer. They must be for him. He watched as the adults crowded round exclaiming. Kate stretched out her hand and pulled him closer.
"These are yours, Timothy." She put an arm affectionately around the small boy's frame and he took the box wonderingly from her hands. "These soldiers are made to last forever, so look after them well and one day, you will be able to give them to your son." Timothy nodded, looking down in awe at the treasure in his hands. And there were more wonders to come. The children couldn't keep their hands off the bag. Laughing, Kate tipped the contents onto the carpet allowing the children to scrabble amongst them choosing their own gifts and, under her direction, handing out the balance to their elders. There was something for everyone, all carefully chosen with loving care to ensure each gift was appropriate to the recipient. Then too, there were the usual joke items, and these evoked a great deal of laughter and leg pulling.
Watching her, Guy was pleased to see some of the strain go out of her lovely face. It had been so evident when she arrived and he had mentioned as much to Margaret when they were in the conservatory.
"It's just the long journey," Margaret assured him. "You'll see, she'll be fine in a day or two." But Guy wasn't to be fobbed off so easily. Something had happened to his daughter while she had been away from them. There were lines of strain around her eyes and a reserve in her manner where once she had been so open and trusting. She had been hurt somewhere along the way, he was sure of it.
Lines of concern wrinkled his forehead. He knew his family had to grow up, and in doing so were bound to suffer in one way or another but this knowledge didn't lessen his pain. What hurt even more was the way she appeared to have shut them out.
Always, when she was a little girl she had come running to him if she was hurt or unhappy. Why had this changed now she was an adult? His eyes moved around the room and settled on his eldest son. Peter was the same. Reticent and withdrawn, but then, he reminded himself, their mother was the same. He looked across at Margaret. Controlled, quiet, a very private person. You could never quite fathom what she was thinking. When they were first married her withdrawn manner had at times angered and upset him, now he recognised this as being an essential part of who she was and he was inordinately proud of her. She had given him her unstinting loyalty over the years had been a good mother to their children and was a very respected member of the small Kaihia community.
Guy had been an ambitious man and worked hard, first on his farm and later at becoming a force within the community. He served on a number of committees, was President of the local Rotary club and on the committee of the 'Caring For Our Environment' movement that was fast gathering momentum in the district. To do all this he needed the full support of his wife. Margaret had participated fully in everything he set out to do. Encouraging him, arranging her own life to fit in with his. She never complained and seldom criticised. But there had been times in the early years, when her reserve had become almost unbearable. How often, as a young man, had he longed to break through her calm facade and rouse some form of emotion. There had been days when he almost wished she would shout or scream at him, anything would have been preferable to her imperturbable control.
Her reserve, amounting as it did to indifference, had nearly been the undoing of his marriage. It was at this time that Guy had committed the one serious indiscretion of his life. An indiscretion which could easily have destroyed the happiness and stability of his family and others. But Margaret had stood by him with quiet dignity, offering understanding and discretion instead of recriminations. In doing so she kept her marriage intact, had ensured Guy's unswerving love and was able to raise their children in the happy and secure environment of two adults who had weathered a storm and were now accepting of each other and secure in their love for one another.
Looking round at his family now Guy was deeply grateful to his wife for the dignity and forbearance she had displayed in that most difficult time. She was a woman in a thousand and he knew he was a lucky man. Why, then, did he feel a sense of foreboding at the idea of Kate taking after Margaret?
After much laughter the gifts had finally come to an end. With an exaggerated sigh of relief Kate sat back and picked up her neglected drink.
Amy rose, she was short and a little on the plump side. Her hair was brown and wavy, cut short and close to her head. To-night she wore a soft blouse, a full orange skirt and orange sandals on her feet. She collected her children, instructed them to bid everyone goodnight and took them off to bed. Margaret followed, showing Amy the beds she had made ready for her grandchildren.
"Will you read to me, Nana?" Timothy looked up at her, his blue eyes expectant.
"Not to-night, dear," Margaret smiled down at the blonde haired little boy. "I must go and get dinner ready for all these people."
"Story, story," shrieked Lucy, throwing off her blankets and kicking her feet in the air. Life at the moment was much too exciting to think of going to sleep.
Amy grabbed her daughter's feet and pushed them firmly back under the blankets.
"That's enough of that, young lady. You have had more than enough excitement for one night." She kissed the plump little cheek and smoothed the fair, tousled curls. Lucy pouted but knew from experience not to persist. Amy put the night light on, switched off the main light and followed Margaret out of the room.
"Can I help with anything?"
When she was first married Amy had found her mother-in-law's quiet reserve rather daunting, but gradually she discovered there was a warm and understanding person under that controlled exterior. Now, they were firm friends and enjoyed each other's company.
"No, said Margaret. Everything is under control. But you can tell the others to come to the table if you like." Amy disappeared in the direction of the lounge and Margaret headed for the dining room. While Kate had slept earlier, she had cooked the meal then placed it in the bain maree. Now, she took the plates and dishes of food out of the hostess and placed them on the big table. The family trooped in and found their places, the men in particular, eyeing the food appreciatively.
Although her food was always plain and wholesome Margaret was an excellent cook and her meals were always well received. Tonight was no exception. Even Kate, who was still suffering the effects of airline food found her flagging appetite revive as the delicious smells of home cooked food assailed her nostrils.
There was, predictably, roast lamb accompanied by potatoes, onions and pumpkin, all crisp and brown from the baking dish. Added to these were fresh broccoli and peas and a small dish of cauliflower au gratin. The dessert to follow was a flaky, light pavlova with mounds of fresh cream and some late strawberries she had managed to find at her greengrocer.
"I'm starving," Simon stated, drawing up a chair. Then he rose again as though remembering something.
"What are we drinking, Dad. Shall I do the honours."
Earlier in the day Guy had selected a couple of his good red wines from his cellar. These now stood open on the dresser. Guy seated himself.
"Yes, you can," he said, nodding towards the dresser. "I think we'll start with the Merlot blend." Simon found the bottle and walked round the table filling the glasses. Kate watched him. He looked relaxed and confident, a man who knew where he was going and she was pleased for him. As he came round to her glass he squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
"It's good to have you home, Kate."
"Thanks, Simon," she raised her glass smiling at him, grateful that the easy friendliness they had known still existed in spite of the long separation. With only two years between them they had always been close as children, whereas Peter, six years older than Kate, had been very much their older brother.
"What does it feel like to be home?" Amy had taken her place beside Peter at the table. She was aware her question was trite but couldn't think of anything more sophisticated to say, yet felt the need to make some attempt at communication. She had always liked her sister-in-law but they lived in different worlds and so far had little common ground on which to establish a friendship.
"Ask me that in a few days." Kate smiled at her. "At the moment I feel as though I have hardly touched base."
"We've had some excitement on our quiet little island while you have been living it up in England." Peter interceded. "But I'm sure you would have heard about it?" Kate looked at him.
"The sinking of the Rainbow Warrior," He elucidated.
"Oh, that. Yes, we did." said Kate. "It was big news. I still find it difficult to understand why the French found it necessary to commit such a serious act of aggression against New Zealand. And they were so blatant about it. From what I read they didn't even bother to cover their tracks. It looked as though they almost wanted to get caught."
"Yes, it did rather,?" Peter agreed. "Either that, or they hopelessly under estimated the investigative expertise of our police force." Peter looked smug. "You have to hand it to our men. It didn't take them long to uncover the evidence and make the arrests."
"Yes, that was a feather in our cap but I still don't see what precipitated such a drastic step." Kate frowned. "Did the threat Greenpeace pose really justify France committing such a despicable crime?"
"Well, they obviously must have thought so," said Peter. "I think the French were tired of being needled about their nuclear testing on Mururoa and decided a show of strength would stop the harassment."
"And did it?" Kate raised her eyebrows.
"No," Simon grinned. "It would take much more than that to stop us. These are New Zealander's they're messing with," he puffed out his chest in joking gesture, but was rightly proud just the same. "It will take much more than that to stop us."
"What I find even more disturbing," said Guy. "Is that such a totally unpredictable act of violence has been committed, highlighting our vulnerability and yet here we are pulling away from our allies." Kate looked at him in surprise.
"Why, what do you mean?" Her voice was puzzled.
"By not allowing the United States to have nuclear warships come into our ports we have seriously jeopardised our position in Anzus."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, we can't reasonably expect the United States to continue to treat us as allies when we refuse to receive their ships in our ports."
"But we are still a part of Anzus aren't we?"
"Yes, but only by the skin of our teeth."
"Oh, come on Dad." Peter protested. "You don't really believe they will throw us out of Anzus?"
"I don't believe they have any option. Unless we change our policy."
"Why did New Zealand object so strongly to the American warship coming into our harbours? asked Kate. "From the way I read it the New Zealand Government knew the possibility of the ship actually carrying nuclear weapons was remote and the United States are, or were, our allies." She spoke earnestly. "Their visit was only a friendly exercise wasn't it?"
"Yes," Guy was impressed by his daughter's keen grasp of the situation. He always enjoyed pitting his brain against his children in friendly, if sometimes heated debates and was often pleasantly surprised at their knowledge and astuteness. "But New Zealand requires explicit assurance that no nuclear weaponry is on board before any ship can be granted permission to enter our waters."
"I understand, but then neither the United States nor Britain will confirm or deny the presence of nuclear weapons on their ships. Essentially it is a strategic policy to confound their enemies. Knowing this New Zealand should have displayed more faith in the respect the United States has for us as a nation." She paused and looked around the table. "Just imagine the damage to their reputation if, for instance there had been a customs search while the boat was in Auckland and it was discovered that there were nuclear weapons on board?"
"It would seem a minor detail to them." Peter's voice was scornful. "Compared to the might of the United States we are such small fry. Do you think they would really concern themselves with our policies?" Kate's eyes shot sparks. "Of course they would. Knowing our policy on nuclear weapons it would have seriously damaged their credibility not only in New Zealand but internationally. You are right though, we are only a small nation and being such I can't see why New Zealand found it necessary to back the United States against the wall over such a minor issue. Everyone knew that by tacit agreement there would be no nuclear weapons on board. We couldn't reasonably expect the U.S. to break their non-declaratory policy to suit us."
"It was simply a matter of principle," Guy explained. "Both countries had a fixed policy and neither of them could detract from this without setting a precedent that could seriously damage their credibility and weaken their position in the future." Kate stared at him for a minute as another totally unrelated thought suddenly occurred to her. A matter of principle. Was that it? Her mind went off at a tangent and the conversation drifted on unheard around her. Was that why she had come twelve thousand miles, giving up her life in London and completly changing direction in a way she was not at all sure she wanted. Was it all a matter of principle.
"Dessert, dear?" Margaret looked at her daughter. Kate pushed the thought from her reserving it to be explored later. "Mmm, I haven't had pav for years so I will have to have some won't I, but just a very little please. I have eaten far too much already. That dinner was excellent." She patted her incredibly flat tummy appreciatively.
Smiling at her daughter's words Margaret passed her plate across then turned her attention back to Amy. Kate noticed they had been engrossed in their own conversation right through the lamb, potatoes and broccoli. And now they were off again. She turned her attention to the meringue, strawberries and cream in front of her. Simon, sitting on one side of her was deep in conversation with Peter and their father, but their conversation had swung from politics to the more immediate and pressing subject of their chances in the Auckland Regatta to take place the coming weekend. Guy was a keen yachtsman and every year for as long as Kate could remember he entered in the Regatta.
Peter, Kate and Simon had all owned their own small P class yachts and spent many happy hours sailing up and down the Whangaparoa. Exploring the coastline, stopping off sometimes for a swim and a game on one of the many beaches, revelling in the glorious freedom.
As they grew older it was only Peter who had retained his love of yachting. Simon switched interests when he and Bruce McGehan became friends at high school and Bruce introduced him to the challenges of mountaineering. Kate still loved sailing but as she grew older and became involved in her working life the opportunity for a day's sailing presented itself less and less. It was something she had done and could always do again but for the moment she had moved on to other things.
She looked around the table. Plates had been cleared away and two empty wine bottles stood on the table. At one end Margaret and Amy were busy discussing the change of teachers at the local school and how it would affect Timothy, now into his second year. The men's talk on the other hand had switched to farming and the anticipated beef prices. She felt strangely out of it as though she was nothing more than a casual observer at her parents dinner table. Surrounded by her family yet she felt completely alone, all the old familiarity had gone and she wondered if she had been away too long.
Amy looked at her watch and nudged Peter.
"It's getting late, I think we should start making tracks."
"You can't go now," Guy protested. "We haven't had coffee." Amy shook her head.
"We'll skip coffee if you don't mind, I must get the children home." They all rose, Peter and Amy to collect their sleeping offspring, the others to carry an assortment of belongings out to the car. The children, still heavy with sleep were installed into their car seats, the belongings had been dropped into the boot, and goodbyes were said. Amy got into the car, fastened her safety belt and sat waiting for Peter. He was hastily making some arrangements with Guy.
"Thursday then," said Guy. "I'll meet you in Kaihia at the Post Office then we can go on together from there."
"Fine, I'll see you then." Peter turned to Kate.
"Don't make a stranger of yourself now that you are back. You must come over to dinner one night."
"Yes, I'd like that. I'll give you a ring when I have sorted my life out a little." She gave him a quick kiss.
"Goodbye, brother of mine. It is good to see you again."
Peter grinned at her and stepped into the car. He fiddled around, fastening his seat belt, winding down the window and fumbling with keys. Then he turned on the ignition and the car purred quietly. He grinned up at them through the window.
"Thanks for a wonderful dinner, Mum." He pushed his foot down on the accelerator, waved briefly and the car sped away into the night.
Going inside Kate and Simon quickly cleared away the remaining dishes while Margaret stacked the dishwasher. The coffee percolator was plopping away quietly, filling the kitchen with a pungent aroma. Guy put cups, milk and sugar on a tray. He opened the pantry cupboard to investigate Margaret's cake tins. Finding what he wanted in the first tin he placed a few pieces of dark chocolate slice on a small plate. That done he poured the steaming coffee into the cups, picked up the tray and carried it into the lounge, calling over his shoulder.
"Come on everyone, coffee's up."
Margaret left the dishwasher swish, swishing away and went to join her family. Kate armed with her cup and a slice of cake had seated herself in one of the deep, comfortable chairs while Simon was inspecting the drinks cabinet. Margaret joined Guy on the sofa. She gave a quiet sigh as she sank down into the cushions. It had been a long day. Glancing surreptitiously at Guy she checked to see if he looked unduly tired. Sitting back, sipping his coffee he looked perfectly relaxed and not at all tired. Margaret felt a wash of relief. From the moment, only two short weeks ago, when she had collected Guy from the hospital she had begun counting the days. To her each day that passed safely was a step away from that dreadful moment when she had found Guy in the shed doubled up in pain and gasping to breathe. Now as the days were turning into weeks with no recurrence of pain, Guy assured her there was nothing to worry about. Just one of life's little hiccoughs sent to warn us of our mortality, was how he saw it and she was beginning to believe him.
"Liqueur anyone," Simon's voice broke her reverie.
"No, dear, not for me, but your father will probably have a small port." Guy nodded vaguely without lifting his eyes from the yachting magazine he was reading.
"I think I'll join you," Kate chipped in. The tiredness that had dogged her earlier was gone, she was wide awake now and ready to enjoy a quiet drink with Guy and Simon. "It's a long time since I had a port."
"Port it is then," Simon handed Kate her glass and moved over to Guy who dropped his magazine and took the glass. Simon dropped into a chair opposite his sister. Guy studied Kate quizzically over his glass.
"Am I to understand then, that you are not going to desert us immediately and rush back to London?" Kate shifted uneasily in her chair. She wasn't ready for questions and had no desire to commit herself to promises she may not be able to keep. She was silent for a long moment, not wanting to hurt her parents on this first night but not sure herself what the answer was to Guy's question.
"I have to be honest," she said at last. "I don't know." She shrugged her shoulders. Watching, Margaret thought she detected a trace of despair in the movement. Her mind went back to her conversation earlier with Guy. Maybe he was right. A small frown creased her forehead as she listened to her Kate's reply.
"I have no idea at the moment what I'm going to do." Kate's grin was almost apologetic. Guy frowned, he didn't like indecisions. They were a waste of time as far as he was concerned. If there was a problem it had to be addressed and a solution found as soon as possible. His approach to life was straightforward and logical with no room for sentiment or prevarication. It was this that had stood him in good stead over the years and was one of the secrets of his success. He opened his mouth to continue but Kate forestalled him by holding up her hand.
"No lectures, please Daddy." She used the diminutive as a term of endearment to soften her protest. "I left London in such a hurry. Now I need time to think."