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She wanted to get out of Christchurch and on impulse had booked a cruise for the Islands. It was something she had intended to do for a long time. Unfortunately it was not due to sail for more than three months, so she looked round for temporary employment. Fortunately her salary had been good and she had money saved, so she was not desperate. All she knew was that she wanted to get away. If John Brooker could find her easily he might continue to try to see her.

Her parents had been wonderful, thought Frances. They had supported her with their love, hiding their own anxiety. Every day the paper had been studied carefully in case a suitable position had offered. Twice Frances had been interviewed for a post, but with one man she knew she would be going from the frying pan into the fire. The second position she had applied for would have meant giving up her holiday, and she felt reluctant to do that. It was an anchor to hold on to, something colourful and bright to look forward to with hope.

She stirred in the seat. Kathy would have posted the letter to the Marsden family by now. At least there hadn’t seemed any predatory male figure about that advertisement. Despite herself Frances smiled whimsically and began to concentrate on the flickering screen. The film was almost three-quarters over, but it had given her an opportunity to review the whole situation, and now she was much more at ease with herself. Jamie, hearing her soft sigh, took her hand, squeezed it gently, then released it. The odd contact touched her with its gentle care. When Jamie returned her home she had been able to thank him sincerely. They made a date to play squash the following day. For a week, day followed day in easy relaxation. Frances spent a lot of time jogging through the park near her home, the motion steadying her and the exercise doing her good. She was able to tell her mother to tell John she was out, whenever he rang. However, when the phone rang she was increasingly reluctant to answer it.

She was surprised how readily she had been able to dismiss John Brooker. Vaguely she wondered if she had been in love with him. Perhaps after all she was a cold, frigid type. She had been attracted, she could see, but not seriously tempted. The knowledge worried her vaguely and she attempted to discuss it with her mother. Mrs Elaman kept insisting that she would meet the right man one day. The old-fashioned phrase stuck in Frances’ throat, but she managed to cover her feelings with a rueful laugh. ‘Mum, I’m twenty-four, not eighteen!’

Kathy walked in then with the mail, a letter for Frances amongst it. Grateful for the distraction, she had read the information aloud. Her interview with J. Marsden was for the next morning at eleven o’clock. She wondered what the mysterious J. Marsden would be like. In the morning she dressed carefully. She was to have her interview over coffee in one of the department stores. That at least was something, she supposed. She wondered if the mysterious J. Marsden would be forced into drinking dozens of cups of coffee, as they interviewed prospective employees! The prospect sent her off with a smile.

J. Marsden turned out to be Jennifer Marsden, wife of Rupert. Instantly Frances felt at home with Jennifer, an easygoing, petite woman in her early thirties. She was plump with pregnancy and explained that the job was a mixture of household help, supervising her three sons, and checking stock once the harvesting season had started.

‘Quite frankly, I don’t care if you don’t know one end of a sheep from the other, so long as we can have someone we can live with.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘As a matter of fact as soon as I saw this photo I knew you were the one! My husband was impressed too. He has a similar harvester to my brother and they do a lot of contract work in summer.’

Frances looked at the photo. Young Kathy must have slipped it in. She felt a fool having to explain it, but could see the funny side of the situation. Jenny laughed too and a bond of friendship was formed.

By the time their coffee was finished Frances and Jennifer knew a great deal more about each other. Jennifer had explained that she had lost a baby with a miscarriage three years before and this time she wanted nothing to go wrong. ‘My doctor is wonderful, but he’s warned me that if my behaviour isn’t perfect he’ll whip me into hospital. Quite frankly I’d hate that as summer is such a frantically busy time on the farm, so Rupe suggested we have additional help. I was very much against the whole idea until I saw your photo. You seemed to be young and cheerful.’ She paused. ‘You can ride horses, can’t you?’ she asked.

Frances reassured her truthfully. She loved riding and had spent many hours at a stables not far from her home. As a child she had had her own pony and it had been a source of constant joy to her.

Jennifer was pleased with her answer. She outlined the hours and time off and discussed salary. It was not at all the princely sum Frances was accustomed to, but as it included her board it was sufficient for her needs. The time suited Frances perfectly too, as Kathy had pointed out originally. The life-style would be a complete change for her as it would be a welcome break from the office routine she was accustomed to in the city. She tried to take in instructions as to roads to follow to reach the farm the following Monday morning.

Happily she said, ‘Goodbye,’ looking forward to her new job with genuine pleasure. Back home her parents were delighted and even her young brother Martin, in his last year at High School, was pleased for her. Kathy had made a gooseberry pie for tea.

‘It was to be a consolation prize if you missed out, but it’s a happy pie this way!’ explained Kathy. Frances hadn’t the heart to reprimand her about inserting the photo in the envelope. After all, she doubted if she would have been selected for an interview if it hadn’t been for that.

It was a happy family occasion. That night when the telephone rang for her, she told her mother to tell John that she was going away.

Her spirits seemed to lift at the prospect of doing something so necessary. Once she was gone John would forget his feelings for her, and perhaps make an effort to settle with his wife and the small baby.

Early on Monday morning Frances kissed her parents a fond farewell and set off for the farm. Her suitcase was full of trousers and shorts and tops, a change from her previous working wardrobe. To drive out she had worn the pretty flounced skirt with the neat pintucked blouse. She felt quite at ease as she negotiated the cross-town traffic, then turned her car on to Yaldhurst Road. Automatically she slowed as she approached the rear of the racecourse. Some magnificent horses were already doing track work and her eyes delighted in the attractive scene. It had rained in the night, but this morning the sun had come out and the world seemed new and fresh. Frances felt cheered by this small sign.

A large plane moving ponderously in to land at the nearby airport shattered the peace with the scream of its engines. Soon she turned out on to the West Coast Road and the peaceful beauty soothed her. The smooth straight road cut its way across the flat plains seeming to stop only at the line of gigantic mountains. The Southern Alps were magnificent, standing in rugged rows of snow-tipped splendour. Around her, the patchwork quilt of the plains lay lazily spread-eagled for the sun. Crops of hay, barley, wheat, lucerne and clover showed the effect of an early, warm wet spring. Cattle moved in some paddocks, but mostly it was the sheep that caught the eye. Horses grazed and in another section she noted a pig farm. Every sign promised a good season. Now and then she passed farmhouses dotted around with trees, the fence lines linking as well as dividing. Past Hororata, a small township waiting in the sun, she turned off according to the directions Jenny had given. Her path headed more south than west towards the mighty Rakaia river. She sped along, conscious of a rising anticipation.

After driving for some time Frances saw a glimpse of an enormous old house surrounded by a wood. A glance at the letterbox told her she had reached Coppers, so she swung down the side road, knowing she was almost at her destination. Coppers was an early pioneer homestead and Frances recalled having seen pictures of it in the past. It was named for the copper beech trees that formed such a notable feature of its grounds. Even from the road the trees looked magnificent and a tree-lined drive led from the road towards the house. Frances smiled to herself. She was going to a very different type of house, judging from what Jenny had said. Travelling much more slowly now, as the road was only shingle, she kept on glancing round until she finally saw a neat, long modern house of green summer-hill stone and knew she had arrived. Like its neighbour this house had been set around with trees, but here they were only small and still young. Fast-growing silver birches formed a break from the prevailing wind and Frances knew the garden would be a pleasant spot. The house had been built to get the maximum advantage of the sun. To one side a group of garages and implement sheds were screened by more trees. Frances stopped her little Mini and wondered where she should park. She smiled as Jennifer Marsden came out to greet her.

‘Grand timing! My man’s just arrived in for morning tea, so you can meet him. I’m sure you’ll like each other. Just put the wee car in here.’

Obediently Frances drove the car in beside a big, powerful Jaguar. Her little Mini looked very small beside the big car and a Land Rover on the other side.

She grabbed her suitcase and eased out of the car. As they went into the house Jenny commented on a motorbike in their way to the door. ‘My brother’s bike! Watch out for it as he’s liable to leave it anywhere! He’s here a lot as Rupe and he often work together.’

Now Frances was inside and found herself in a large sunny kitchen. Two men stood up as they entered, and for a panic-stricken moment Frances felt quite shy. Rupert Marsden was brown-haired, medium height and heading towards forty, thought Frances. She began to relax, sensing a quiet ease in the calm smiling face. He had a. tanned outdoors look about him and he held out his hand in greeting. ‘Welcome, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us!’

Frances took his hand gratefully before turning to the other man at his side. Jennifer introduced him as her brother, Ian Burnleigh. He was a magnificent figure of a man, tall, heavily muscled, bronzed by the sun. His hair was dark brown and curly, and his eyes were a deep dark brown. He stood easily and Frances experienced a thrill of sheer animal magnetism as his hand gripped hers. ‘It’s great to meet such a paragon of virtue, talents and good looks: Jenny’s been singing your praises.’ The lazy smile took a slight sting from the words.

‘I hope I live up to expectations,’ she said, struggling for her normal poise.

‘If you survive my three nephews for the first week of the school holidays you’ll be fine.’

‘Hey, don’t you rubbish my sons!’ chuckled Jennifer as she passed Frances a cup of tea.

Rupert looked at her quietly, then told them that Ian and he would be out most of the day. ‘Jenny will show you round, have a look at the tractors, then you can ride down to the boundary. It’s the river, so keep going till you reach it. There’s a tank which marks one boundary and a cluster of pines and willow on the other. It’s pretty straightforward. The horses are kept in the first paddock in front; you can ride the grey mare.’

‘I’ll show you, Frances,’ put in Jennifer. ‘Greytor is my horse and a beautiful lass.’

The men had finished their tea now, so they departed quickly. The roar of a motorbike echoed amid the excited barking of dogs, and Frances glanced up to see Ian Burnleigh ride off, his dog perched pillion behind him. She laughed with delight at the sight and Jenny, following her eyes, grinned too.

When Frances had finished her tea Jenny showed her to her room. Although not a large room, it was attractive, and had its own bathroom and walk-in wardrobe. Flowers had been put in a bowl on the dressing table. Frances thanked Jenny who left her to change and unpack. It took Frances only a short time to slip out of her skirt and top and pull on an old pair of jeans with a cotton blouse. There was no need for any jacket as it was already quite hot.

Together they went through the house. Next to her room was Jennifer and Rupe’s room, again with their own bathroom, then the boys’ rooms. Thad, the eldest, had his own room, but Ivan and Greg shared a room. As well, they had a large playroom. Two walls were lined with bookshelves which were littered with treasures dear to a boy’s heart. The boys, too, had their own shower and toilet. The hall formed itself into an entrance separating the bedrooms from the living area. The lounge was a peaceful room, ranch sliders wide open to catch any faint breeze from the garden. It was not very large, but space had been given to a formal dining area. The kitchen was a room Frances approved of immediately. It had been given additional space, so a large table formed a natural centre. The latest in cooking and freezing appliances ranged along two sides. The window above the bench looked out to a swimming pool. At one end a windshield had been built partially enclosing the pool.

Frances loved the house. It was modern yet showed a simple dignity and warmth that reflected Jenny and Rupe more than they knew.

Frances and Jenny went out into the side garden. It led straight to the pool glinting openly in the sunlight.

‘We love swimming,’ said Jenny. Since Rupe’s enclosed that end we can use the pool for much longer. As well it forms a reservoir in case we need it for firefighting.’

They moved away from the water and walked towards the big garages. A large and a smaller wheeled tractor ranged up to the jeep. Frances had once been on a school trip to a farm and remembered having a tractor ride on that occasion. Seeing her hesitation, Jenny smiled and said she would show her; expertly she started the smaller of the two machines and the noisy splutter of its motor racketed in the still air. She reversed it on to the wide parking area, then signalled Frances to open the gate at the side. When she had driven it through Frances was shown the way to manoeuvre it. Then Jenny stood down and Frances eased herself into the driving seat. She was very glad that she had a flat paddock in front of her. At least no matter which way she went she wasn’t likely to hit anything! Perched up there she felt ridiculously high and she was glad Jenny hadn’t pulled out the even bigger machine. Gingerly she moved the gear into first and after an initial bucking which she instinctively corrected, set off, trundling slowly. Eventually she felt braver and sped up a little. After a few minutes she knew that driving the tractor was rather fun. Then Jenny instructed her on reversing and set up a slalom course with a couple of empty boxes. She felt able when she was finished to manoeuvre the machine back to its parking place in the garage, and Jenny applauded the performance.