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Now, I’m not sure. I don’t want you hurt, my dear.’ She looked slowly at Frances. ‘I’ve noticed you don’t come over if there’s any likelihood of Ian being around, and I’ve noticed that Ian doesn’t visit Jenny if you’re likely to be around!’ She smiled. ‘If it’s any help I know he likes to know what you’re up to! I think he’s trying to reconcile all the work you do and the way you look after the boys with the fact that you’re very beautiful and do modelling. For some reason he’s given you the same character as his old flame! Now I’ve said my little piece, so let’s have a brandy. I think we could do with one!’

Gam poured two good measures into the lovely old glassware. It was very quiet sitting in the sunshine in the lovely old room. Some of the peace of the room assuaged the hurt in Frances’ heart. She was glad Gam had told her; it made it so much easier to understand Ian’s behaviour. She knew Gam was warning her, yet at the same time there had been a plea for compassion. She gulped down the fiery liquid and it stung its way into her body.

‘Now, Frances, I’ll show you upstairs another day. Why don’t you have a wander in the trees? I find them very restful.’

Affectionately, Frances hugged Gam. ‘Thanks, Gam.’ She knew that there had been enough talk, now she wanted to think. Idly she walked across the sweeping lawn and into the band of trees. Gradually she let their beauty seep into her being, even the trees seeming to draw her gently to ease. She hardly noticed their variety and grandeur as she thought over what Gam had said. Although she knew why Ian had behaved as though she was so cheap morally, it didn’t lessen her desire to keep out of his way. She wished she had met him before he had become so embittered over her sex. Unfortunately he was so good-looking and with his sheer physical attraction girls would be easy prey, thus reconfirming his opinions. Frances squirmed inside herself as she recalled her abandoned pose in the moonlight. She knew a pang of shame that she had reacted so immediately to his touch and remembered his searing words, ‘As it happens it’s a bit too blatant for my taste, get some other guy to oblige.’ The memory of the words hurt just as badly as before and tears trickled slowly down her face. Finally^ she pulled herself together. She had work to do and so long as Ian stayed away she could cope. She called goodbye to Gam, who looked sympathetically at the proud young figure. Frances drove down the tree tunnel and back to the farm, her heart sore.

Mechanically she helped Jenny with tea, and afterwards she played with the boys until they went to bed. She felt restless so decided on a swim. One thing—she had no fear of Ian appearing now for a late swim. She swam several lengths, then let herself float in the water. Even her swimming let down her sore spirit and she hauled herself wearily from the water and went to bed, where she lay awake wondering how she could continue to be lighthearted in front of Jenny and the boys.

As it happened it proved easier than she had imagined. The next day was a clinic day, so they left early, wanting to avoid the heat. The three boys wanted to do some of their Christmas shopping. They had hacked open their moneyboxes that morning and their father had given them some extra money for ‘wages’. Happily they put on their town wear and Frances and Jenny were affected by their high spirits, and the trip in to the clinic passed in a flash. This time Jenny dropped them at McKenzies, driving herself the short distance to the doctor’s. The boys had many anxious huddles discussing a variety of possible purchases. Thad wanted to go to Minsons, a specialist china and glass shop nearby. Apparently he knew exactly what he wanted, for he came out clutching a long slender parcel. ‘It’s fragile, would you mind carrying it, please?’ His brown eyes sparkled. ‘It’s for Mum.’ Gingerly Frances took it, placing it carefully in her shopping bag. Then they crossed to a department store where Ivan bought some shoelaces for his beloved Uncle Ian. ‘He broke one yesterday and he had to use string on his workboots!’ Thad had a moment of agony when the Scout knife he wanted to buy for himself proved too expensive. Regretfully he replaced it and turned to the toy section. Seeing he was busy there, Frances suggested it to Ivan and Greg, who seized the idea with great alacrity. They bought it while Frances wandered back to Thad to keep his attention diverted. She was rewarded with a big wink from Ivan when they returned, the parcel clutched in Greg’s hand. It went into the bag too.

Frances was sorry Rupe and Jenny were not there, it was such a fun-filled time. They visited a toy shop and from there went to meet their mother. She had promised to buy them Kentucky fried chicken for their lunch and they were looking forward to this treat. They found her waiting for them, the red and white striped boxes containing chicken and chips piled beside her. It took a few minutes to drive out to Deans Bush, where they made a picnic for themselves. After the meal Jenny and Frances rested comfortably while the boys ran up and down the paths, playing scant attention to the unique flora around them.

Frances asked how Jenny had got on at the clinic and was pleased that everything was normal. ‘He says it’s the best I’ve ever been, and that’s a large part thanks to you. I do feel so much easier too. Not long to go now, just under a month.’

The hour passed quickly, then the boys returned wanting to know if they could finish their shopping. They decided to complete it at Riccarton, the big mall being very convenient. Frances slipped away to ring home, but was disappointed as her mother and Kathy were out. Perhaps they were shopping for Christmas too. It took quite a while for the boys to be satisfied with their purchases, and they were tired when they returned to the farm. Jenny made some soup while they unloaded the car, then the boys went to bed as soon as they had finished their meal. Jenny looked tired, but she assured Frances that she would be right after a good night’s sleep.

Frances watched television for a while, but she felt too full of restlessness to sit still. She decided to go for a run and went into her bedroom to put on her jeans and top. She checked with Jenny, who grimaced cheerfully and said she was welcome! The men were still out, but she knew by the nightfall that Rupe would be home shortly. During the harvesting the men were busy from daylight to dusk.

Frances hadn’t seen Ian for some time now and as she ran she could admit to herself that was probably a good thing. She only had to think of him for the ache inside her to become a throbbing pain. Resolutely she concentrated on running, her pounding feet driving out her thoughts. The night air was soft and still, not as warm as she had expected. She enjoyed her run and decided to go down to the river, the coolness of the night a sharp change after the heat of the day. She slackened her pace to a steady rhythmic gait, leapt lightly over the gate and continued towards the river. The moonlight flickered with clouds at times, but she was so intent she didn’t notice. The scene of the river in the moonlight was one to delight the senses. The air was full of the tang of the soft grasses and the scent of lupins. The bands of the river glinted blackly, here and there a glimmer of silver, among the grey stones.

To the west lay the foothills leading up to the giant Southern Alps. Tonight the mountains seemed stark and unreal, like cardboard cutouts on a stage. On the tops traces of snow shone whitely in the soft radiance of the moon. Frances leaned against a willow enjoying the silver display. Above, the stars shone brightly. She picked out the Southern Cross, then Sirius the bright, and found Orion’s belt and sword. Then the scene blackened as clouds drifted over the moon again. She shivered, realising with a start how long she had been. She studied the land behind her and knew she could cut a sizeable distance by taking a short cut across Ian’s land. It was nearly eleven, so she knew he would be in bed. In town she would have been up, most likely, but here in the country the early dawn meant going early to bed.

She set off quite happily, if slightly chilled by the cold air, glancing around and realising that a bank of clouds had driven up. It looked as though it would rain soon. She increased her speed easily and jogged across the stubble of the recently cut hay paddocks. She climbed carefully over the fence into Ian’s farm, her path a wide angle. She was now very close to Coppers and already some of its trees shielded her. The house was in darkness, though, she was relieved to see. She had one more gate to climb and she would be back on Rupe and Jenny’s farm. Breathing a sigh of relief because she hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of being on Ian’s property, she sped up and putting out a hand vaulted over the gate—at least, that had been her intention. The trees had inked out the gate and she had tripped heavily, crashing on to the hard ground with a bone-shaking shock.

She lay there numbly for a few seconds, getting her breath again as pain ripped at her legs. Gingerly she examined herself. Her hands were slightly scratched, but she rubbed them casually against her shirt, bending to see her leg. A dark stain was seeping through her slacks and she eased herself forward to roll up her cuff. As she did so her other leg moved and she writhed in agony at the sharp stab in her ankle. She pulled off her shoe, watching wryly as her ankle swelled. She pulled her lacy handkerchief from her pocket, wishing she had something sturdier to help stop the blood pouring from her other leg. At last the bleeding slowed and finally stopped as she applied pressure. Frances doubted if she could walk far, but decided that after a few moments rest she would try. No one would miss her till morning, she knew. If only it was a warm night she probably would have been uncomfortable but unharmed by a night out. As it was, she was cold and the rain would bucket down soon. The wind now was not the hot, soft gentle nor-wester but a sharp stinging southerly.

She pulled herself up, forcing back the waves of pain by clinging to the gate beside her. When she finally managed it she stood triumphantly, but her left foot could not be put to the ground. ‘Well,’ she muttered, ‘I can’t go on standing like a one-legged stork all night.’ Hopping on one leg, she reached the gatepost, clinging desperately as beads of sweat broke over her. Her good leg had started bleeding again and she went through her pockets until she found another handkerchief, but the blood kept on spurting through her fingers. She felt dizzy but clung on to the fence, determined to get home. Forcing herself to concentrate on stopping the bleeding, she removed her other shoe and used her sock in an attempt to mop up. Finally the pressure worked and she again attempted to hop along.

Behind her, Coppers was hidden by the trees as she struggled along the fence. She wondered if she should call for help, but resolutely pushed the thought away. Ian would only think she was trying some other ploy, she thought. The rain caught her as she left the shelter of the trees, crashing mercilessly around her. She knew she was feeling strange and when she fell to the ground the lassitude in her body seemed to make her want to do nothing but just to lie there. A warning flashed through her that it was dangerous and she struggled up, not surprised her leg was covered in blood. Its warmth felt strange and Frances felt suddenly that she had made the wrong decision. She should have tried to call out or attract attention when she had been so close to Coppers. Again she forced herself to apply pressure on her leg. Reluctantly she removed her shirt and tied it into place. Perhaps if she struggled back to the trees she could find shelter and conserve her energy. She found comfort in telling herself that it was after midnight and Rupe would be up by six. It wasn’t long to wait, if only her leg would stop bleeding. She wished Scamp was with her; several times she had taken him on her nocturnal jogging expeditions, but tonight she hadn’t thought of it. She whistled, trying to cheer herself up by imagining all sorts of pleasant things. A dog barked somewhere and she realised it was Ian’s black huntaway. She carried on whistling as she stood up and seeing her leg had stopped bleeding she kept on hopping. It was a gallant effort, but she crashed again, not sure which way she wanted to go. The rain was blinding her, but it felt kind to let it dribble against her skin, washing away the mud. Half consciously she whistled before she was overtaken by the strange numbness.

It was a strange fantasy to imagine—Ian bending over her and carrying her chilled body. Frances even imagined the feel of his neck as she curved her hands there for support, nestling against his warm body. Then he was gone and she cried because the fantasy had been so real. She struggled against a fiery heat that seemed to cushion her, reaching out for Ian and only relaxing when she felt his touch and heard his voice tell her that it was all right. She tried to tell him it wasn’t, that she mustn’t go near him because he thought she was a tramp, but it was too mixed up and she was so cold, and her leg was bleeding and wouldn’t stop. Then Ian seemed to be there and others as well, and she drifted into a warm haven, holding on to the warmth and comfort of the strong hands.

She came to consciousness gradually from a strange warm cloud that seemed to be on her forehead. She found strength to open her eyes eventually, but the light was bright and she shut them quickly, wanting to rest in that warm cocoon. Gradually she adjusted, memory of her fall washing over her as she realised her legs were strange.

Her eyes opened properly now and she focussed on the room about her. It was darker now and her startled gaze took in the size of the room she was in. It seemed to be enormous, and the ceiling was studded with small cupid figures clutching plaster draperies and flowers. A glance towards the window confirmed her thoughts. The room angled itself into a large bay forming a circle. She knew now. Obviously Ian had found her and now she was. lying in his bed. She tried fretfully to remember what had happened. There was a dim memory of his touch and his warmth, but perhaps that had been only a dream. It must have been, she thought idly. He reserved only contempt for females other than his family.

She felt strange, lightheaded almost, and guessed she must have been drugged. Her fingers caught at the unfamiliar nightgown she was wearing and she realised it must have been one of Gam’s. It was a pretty Victorian style in a warm voluminous flannelette, pale blue with sprigs of wild roses printed on to it. With its pintucked front the gathers fell softly from the yoke. Gingerly Frances felt her legs. One was heavily bandaged the other was bandaged at her ankle. She tried to get up, but felt far too sleepy to make much effort, so she decided to doze again.