Stretched Horizons

by Ross Richdale

  CHAPTER 2

  With the busy final weeks of the term at Sunset Grove, conversation about the attack on two of its teachers dropped. Other items rose to the fore, and life returned to normal. Except for Jenny and Bree.

  Bree immersed herself in work, but did not miss the fact that Jenny had withdrawn. The young teacher no longer visited the staff lounge after school, no longer chatted with the other teachers, no longer participated. Worse, her famous giggle had disappeared. Bree decided to take action. She called Jenny in for a conference.

  One of the tasks Bree did during the last two weeks was to hold an informal interview with each staff member. Here, they'd discuss anything the teacher wished about their class, and children, parents or school life in general. The ones Bree had held the term before were somewhat formal, with teachers feeling apprehensive and often on defence. However, this time the meetings were relaxed and gave the staff a chance to air items in privacy. They trusted Bree now and knew any comments or criticisms would not go beyond the office walls.

  During these interviews Bree found there was deep interest in her own welfare. Staff members asked how she was coping after her marriage dissolved. Several offered suggestions and supported her decision to still go on her New Zealand holiday. Also, Bree discovered that most staff members noticed Jenny's change in behaviour with concern. Several had tried to help the young teacher, but to no avail.

  After morning recess, a relieving teacher took the Year Ones in Badger Room while Jenny went into Bree's office for her interview. She looked pale and appeared timid and formal.

  "I'm sorry about the class, Bree," Jenny blurted out before the headteacher had even sat down. "They've been quite naughty and it's all my fault. I'm sure Joan has already...." Joan was the manager of the Set One Classes.

  "I've spoken to Joan," Bree replied, calmly. "She said she is proud of your efforts. Your planning and record keeping is suburb, parent interviews were thoroughly researched and everything is carried out professionally."

  "But what about Mrs. Flores?" Jenny bit on her lip.

  "Mary Flores has three children at this school. She complains about every teacher, every year." Bree smiled. "Frankly, if she hadn't mumbled about her little Christopher in your room, I would have wondered what was wrong. Next time, just refer her on to me. We have an understanding. She moans on and I ignore her. The poor lady is quite lonely, you know."

  "I know, but..." Without warning, Jenny broke down into shuddering sobs. Her body trembled and, for a few moments, she just sat on her chair, unable to control her emotions. Finally, she stood and headed for the door. Bree stopped her, and Jenny huddled in her arms, sobbing.

  "Here," Bree said a moment later and handed Jenny a tissue. "Just let it all come out. Don't hold back. I understand." She smiled softly. "I was there. Remember?"

  "I know. Perhaps you're the only one who does understand, but it doesn't seem to affect you, Bree."

  "It doesn't? Then perhaps you could explain why I've spent nearly every night since Colin left sleeping with a light left on?"

  Jenny stopped sobbing, stepped back and wiped her eyes. "You have?"

  "Yes," Bree whispered. "It's so silly but the house I've lived in for over a decade has suddenly started to make strange noises. I reckon I hear every creak and groan of the timbers. Colin was a ripe pain in the butt but he was always there or returning soon. Now, I wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat and can feel the monster's boot kick me in the ribs."

  Jenny whispered. "Me, too, but you're always so self-assured."

  "A facade I've built up, Jenny. In my position, it's necessary. I've just used it a little more often in the last couple of weeks, that's all."

  Jenny smiled through her tears. "I've always aspired to a position like yours. Fat lot of good I'd be at helping others when the first little thing that goes wrong makes me collapse in self-pity like a pack of cards."

  "It wasn't little, and I believe you're coping well."

  "Until now."

  "Not necessarily. It's harder to talk about these things than to try to bury them in the back of your mind."

  Jenny grinned. "My God, we're talking in clichés aren't we?"

  "It makes what I'm going to say easier, though."

  Jenny's eyes widened and her face paled. "Go on," she stuttered.

  "Oh, it's nothing bad. You know all about the holiday Colin and I planned?"

  "Sure."

  "I can't cancel half a ticket. To re-book it for one costs more than I'd save, so I thought you might like to come with me."

  "Bree, I'd love to, but I can't afford it. Anyhow, I'm not really into swimming."

  Bree held up her arm. "I doubt if I can manage much swimming either. I'd still like to go for a dive in the ocean on New Year's Day just to say I've done it. I've managed to get the itinerary changed in New Zealand. Instead of pre-booked accommodation at the flash resort hotels Colin likes, I've booked into family motels. We can hire a car and go wherever we please."

  "Damn, Bree. If I had the money..."

  "You only need living expenses. Think of it as Colin's shout. The bastard owes me that much. If I go alone it will cost exactly the same amount. Besides, I'd like your company." She held another tissue out to her assistant, who was on the verge of tears again.

  "But of all the people you could choose..."

  "Stop arguing, Miss Dench. The offer's there. Do you want to come or not?" Bree's attempt at being formal faltered when she had to smile.

  "How can I turn down a direct request from my Headteacher?" Jenny said. "My God, I haven't even got a passport, I'll need a new summer clothes and..."

  "It's four weeks away," Bree cut in. "I'm sure all that can be sorted out."

  "Thanks, Bree," Jenny replied. She gave Bree a tight hug before she glanced at her watch. "Damn, I need to get back to my room." She blew her nose and wiped her moist cheeks. "You're one in a million," she said and headed for the door.

  "Another cliché, Miss Dench. You must try to be more original."

  Jenny smiled. "Yes, Headteacher," she said, gave a mock salute and disappeared.

  Bree glanced at her appointment book. Oh my, the next interview was with Jocelyn Hamilton, the one staff member who needed massive amounts of guidance, not that she would accept any. It was time to pull rank.

  DURING THE FINAL WEEK of the term Jenny almost became her old self again. The giggles and comical interruptions returned to the staff meetings, and she was there every afternoon.

  "I reckon I'll buy my swimwear down there," she said to Bree one evening when she called around with a pile of pamphlets and books about New Zealand. "The whole country has a population a quarter of London's. I got a New Zealand Herald out at the airport. I thought their clothes were expensive until I realized one pound is over three dollars."

  "It's one of the great outdoor tourist resorts of the world with mountains, lakes and geysers, as well as beaches," Bree added. "Well, that's what the brochures say."

  Jenny giggled, unfolded a map onto the carpet and knelt down in front of it. "I got my passport," she said. "Told them there was a family emergency and I needed it straight right away." She glanced up and saw Bree's raised eyebrows. "Well, it is, isn't it? We had the emergency. I just forgot to tell them it happened here."

  "Oh, Jenny," Bree said with a laugh. "I don't think we'll be bored down there, not even for a minute."

  RAY BARNETT WAS IN the waiting room in one of the new sections of the hospital, a room with comfortable armchairs, low tables and assorted magazines spread around. The receptionist's counter was empty, as staff had since gone home. Three people were in the room - a couple in their sixties, and a man a generation younger, who endlessly strutted around. He stopped by a vertical goldfish bowl to gaze at the tiny creatures frolicking around in the artificial light, before running a hand over his day old stubble and continuing his relentless pace.

  "Come and sit down, Ray," the woman said. "Can I get you another coffee from the dispen
sing machine?"

  "Damn windows," the man replied. "Why don't they have windows in the place?"

  "Something to do with the cost of making them earthquake proof," the third person in the room, a grey-headed man, replied. "It was cheaper to leave them out."

  Ray's eyes were haunted and a vein in his neck twitched. "Sure, Ken," he said and switched the conversation back to what was really in his mind. "Why are they so long? They said midnight at the outside." He glanced at a clock on the wall that showed it was two-fifteen.

  "Can we both have a coffee, Emily?" Ray's father-in-law Ken Preston said softly and walked over to comfort him.

  "I'm sorry," Ray muttered. "I know it is just as difficult for you two, probably more so. After all, Maxine is your daughter. I've only known her for a decade." He acknowledged the hand on his shoulder with a faint smile and allowed himself to be guided into an armchair.

  Ray's mother-in-law returned with two paper cups of coffee. She handed them out and Ray met her eyes.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know you were the best thing that happened to Maxie..." Her own voice broke and she turned away.

  Another quarter an hour slipped by before an end door swung open and a nurse dressed in operating fatigues entered. Her body language told the grim story before she even opened her mouth.

  "Doctor Mansfield will speak to you in a moment, Mr. Barnett," she said.

  Ray stood and stared. "My wife...."

  "I'm sorry," the nurse continued. "Maxine died on the operating table at two-forty three, five minutes ago. Doctor Mansfield will be here soon."

  The hushed room was cut by sobs as Emily broke down. Ray fought his own emotions as he watched Ken clasp Emily in his arms.

  "Thank you," Ray replied. "We knew it was a long shot, and I'm sure you all did everything possible." Without another word he walked out of the room.

  RAY WATCHED EMILY TIP the bucket of dirty water down the sink and stand back to check the last cleaning up of the empty house. In the six months since Maxie's funeral, Ray had taken it hard. His in-laws had tried to persuade him to stay in Auckland but he'd made up his mind to accept a position to survey noxious weed spread in native forests three hundred kilometres away in the southern part of the North Island. He reasoned that this position gave him a chance to follow up his botany degree knowledge. Really it was just an excuse to move away from his memories. Perhaps he'd get it out of his system and return sometime. The home that he and Maxie had lived in for five years was sold and the furniture had already gone south to where he'd bought another property.

  "An empty house loses its soul, doesn't it, Ray?" Emily interrupted his thoughts.

  "The house lost it when Maxie went," Ray replied. "I thought I could cope, but the memories are too vivid. I must move on before I wallow in self pity and become embittered."

  "But you can come back," Emily said. "Our home is always open for you, whether it's just for a weekend or for a longer term." Ray noticed her compassionate gaze. "Keep in touch, won't you?"

  Ray nodded. "I will," he whispered. "You're my only family now." He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her chubby body and kissed on her cheek. "Well, I'd better go."

  "Sure," Emily replied. "I'll lock up and get the key to the lawyer."

  CHAPTER 3

  The rolling surf hit the white sand at the base of Mount Maunganui. Despite its name, it wasn't a mountain but a conical hill that rose two hundred metres at the point of a narrow peninsular. This was one of New Zealand's top beaches and was crowded with thousands of vacationers. Hundreds of people from toddlers to grandparents crowded the beach and surrounding urban area. Youths in knee length shorts goggled at tanned girls in skimpy attire, while children built sandcastles in the sand. Red and yellow surf patrol flags flew, and two women shared the waves a dozen metres from shore with hundreds of other bathers.

  "My God," screeched the younger woman. "That breaker!"

  A wave curled up over their heads ready to break. "Dive beneath it," Bree shouted as the wave crashed.

  Everything disappeared in a wall of green but the water beneath the surface was calm. Bree rose to the surface, shook wet hair from her eyes and glanced around to find that the wave had broken into a mountain of surf inshore from them. A spluttering Jenny came up beside her. However, behind, another wave was mounting.

  "Jump up with it and start swimming," Bree called.

  She leaped up in the surge of the next wave began kicking. The crest caught her and she was propelled forward like an express train. After the exhilarating body surf she found the sand scraping her tummy and stood up laughing. Jenny, several metres across from her, also rose and let water slide off her body.

  "How did you know what to do?" Jenny shouted above the roar of surf and children's shouts.

  "My family took me to Hawaii for a holiday when I was twelve. I reckon I never forgot what to do."

  "It shows, too," Jenny replied. "Shall we go and catch another one?"

  "Sure," Bree replied and led the race out.

  For another forty minutes the pair dived beneath, jumped over, or caught an occasional breaker that carried them ashore. Finally, they staggered out, collapsed onto their beach towels and dried themselves down.

  "Well, we did it," Jenny gasped as she ran a finger through her sticky hair.

  "What?"

  "Had an ocean swim on New Year's Day. With the aeroplane not getting here until noon. I didn't think we would manage it."

  "Well, everything was organised. We had out rental car waiting and the motel booked." Bree began to rub sunscreen lotion on her arms. "It's a great little place, too. Far better than those impersonal hotel rooms Colin preferred."

  "Bree," Jenny said. "Your promise!"

  "Oh, yes." Bree laughed. "I said I wouldn't mention his name."

  "Then don't," Jenny replied in a school madam's voice.

  They dried in the hot sun and watched the holiday crowd. Music from a radio behind them competed with the shouts of a group of teenagers playing a ball game on the sand and the roar of two boats that zigzagged back and forth beyond the breakers. Jenny rolled over and let the sun warm her back while Bree opened a local woman's magazine she'd bought and began to read.

  THE PAIR SPENT THE night at a tiny motel that was a complete contrast to the upmarket hotel Bree usually stayed at when she travelled with her husband. It was clean and quiet, though, with comfortable beds, and their rental car was parked right outside the door. Thursday arrived, two days before Bree was due at the conference in Palmerston North, a city five hundred and sixty kilometres southwest across the North Island. According to the map Jenny had studied with enthusiasm, the land between the two centres consisted of mountains and hilly terrain. They'd cross exotic pine forests and Lake Taupo, fly south of three mountains and over forested hill country until they arrived over the Manawatu Plains. They were booked to fly out early on Friday morning on a small link airline.

  THE WEST CENTRAL AIR hanger at Tauranga airport was an austere building that once belonged to the aero club before they shifted to modern facilities. Inside the untidy interior, a small monoplane had its engine cowling removed, and two men peered at the partially assembled engine.

  "Will she be ready, Peter?" one man said. "With our other plane having its annual check, we've no reserve."

  "Sure, Vince. I've put the new carburettor in and cleaned the fuel lines out with compressed air. I only have to reassemble it all. Give me an hour and you can take her up for a test flight."

  "Okay, see you later." Vince climbed down from the maintenance platform and disappeared outside.

  Peter continued to work away for fifteen minutes or so. He whistled to himself and never noticed a visitor until someone coughed. He glanced down and saw a guy in white overalls standing beside the Cessna.

  "Gid'day, mate," he said. "Do yah want something?"

  The man climbed up the other side of the triangular ladder and flashed an identity badge at
Peter. "Jamal Schmidt," he said in an English accent. "I'm from the Cessna head office in The States."

  Peter stopped and wiped his hands with a greasy rag. "You don't look like one of those office types to me."

  Schmidt laughed. "No, I'm in maintenance, like yourself. I was told you ordered a new carburettor for the Stationair. We've had a bit of trouble with similar models back home. Since I was in the country with the big bosses trying to get a new order from a local crop-dusting firm, they suggested I drop by to see if you had the old carburettor around."

  "Sure it's here but it's buggered."

  "That's what we're interested in," the Englishman said. "If you don't want it, I'd like to take it home so it can be checked for metal fatigue. We've had several other complaints from operators."

  Peter shrugged. "Nah, the casing's okay. We decided it was easier to put a new carburettor in rather than replace all the bits, that's all. It's over on the bench. Take it if you wish."

  Schmidt, though, seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He glanced at the work Peter was doing. "Those aren't standard fuel lines are they?" he said.

  Peter laughed. "Nope. Everything from your country costs the earth, so we often use locally manufactured stuff or buy it in from China." He sniffed. "It's just as good and quarter the price."

  "Fair enough. Where did you say the old carburettor was?"

  Peter turned and pointed.

  "Right, I see it," the Englishman said when Peter turned back to face him. "I'll leave you in peace then. Thanks for your help. If there is anything wrong, head office will send your boss an email."

  "No problem"' Peter said, shook the man's extended hand and continued joining the fuel lines up.

  THE WOMAN BEHIND THE Air New Zealand counter glanced up at the pair from her computer monitor. "We don't handle the West Central Air ticketing, Madam," she said to Bree. "Their counter is over beside the rental car kiosks."