Beside the Brook

by Paulette Rae

  Beside The Brook

  By: Paulette Rae

  ISBN - 978-1-877546-01-3

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Aug. 2009, Paulette Rae

  Cover Art Copyright © Aug. 2009, Brightling Spur

  Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

  www.bluewoodpublishing.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to a somewhere rather than a someone ... The Kenepuru Sounds will forever have a special place in my heart and without it this story would never have been born. Frampton Grange, the house where the story takes place, while exaggerated for the story, was inspired by a beautiful home I always admired when I was young. Surrounded by beautiful native New Zealand bush with views of the green hills and water, which are sometimes unbelievable, the Sounds is a little slice of heaven I keep with me always. Never take these gifts for granted.

  Chapter 1

  Another tunnel plunged the train into darkness. The steady rhythm of the steel wheels against the tracks echoed back from the concrete walls as Kirsten momentarily caught her own reflection in the window. This was most off putting. One minute she was gazing at the raging ocean of the South Island's East Coast and the next minute all she could see was her face, complete with an unruly mop of flaming hair, staring back at her.

  She sighed and looked around at the other passengers. It had been four hours now, surely they must be near their destination. However she suspected it would be at least another hour before the train stopped in Blenheim, for they had to travel inland before they got there.

  Kirsten unfolded the letter she had tucked into the back pocket of her jeans and read the words again. The creases in the page were dangerously close to ripping from being taken out so many times. Everything had happened so fast that she had to keep looking at the letter to remind herself it wasn’t a dream.

  Dear Kirsten,

  I have much pleasure in announcing that you have been chosen for the position of Nanny with our household.

  Needless to say Sarah is excited to meet you. We hope you will be able to join us in no longer than two weeks. This, we feel sure, will give you time to get acquainted with our family before Sarah resumes her lessons.

  As I previously explained, when we met in person last week, the room we have for you is fully furnished, but please feel free to bring your own comforts. The days of work as I have also explained will be Monday to Friday, but I hope you will be flexible with these to fit in with our busy lifestyles here.

  I have enclosed enough funds for you to get as far as Blenheim on the train (the bus is so uncomfortable) and I will meet you personally once you confirm your date of arrival. If you have any questions then please feel free to contact me directly. Kindest Regards,

  Elizabeth Ainsley-Frampton

  Kirsten curled the letter back into her pocket as the train whipped from the end of the tunnel, into daylight once more.

  She had applied for the job online about a month ago. Not long afterwards she had received a call from a very well spoken woman who called herself Beth. She wanted to come straight away and interview Kirsten. The application had been made on a whim. Kirsten was desperate to forget a bad experience with a past employer, so the opportunity to flee to the other end of the Island was very inviting. Now she wasn’t so sure. She was also leaving behind fabulous parents and two younger sisters to go and live in a house full of strangers. She had not met Sarah, the little girl she was supposed to be caring for. For all Kirsten knew she could be the demon brat from hell. From what Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton said, Sarah’s mother had died when she was very young. What type of issues did a child bear, having lost her mother at such a tender age?

  Kirsten puzzled over the we that Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton referred to. In the interview she had mentioned other family members only briefly, Sarah’s father Jamie and Beth’s own son, Tyler.

  Kirsten had also picked up that Beth was originally from England and had moved to the United States to marry a rich Texan. How she ended up single in New Zealand with two children Kirsten did not know, neither was it her business, but the history of the eclectic family members intrigued her to no end. If nothing else the job would be interesting; a challenge she was looking forward to.

  Nevertheless a storm of butterflies rose in her stomach as the train propelled itself closer to her destination.

  A small boy in the seat behind her, who had been quiet for most of the trip, but was now obviously bored, poked his smiling face around Kirsten’s seat. His little fingers on one hand gripped the edge of the foam seat from behind. Brown vegemite smears dotted his cheeks, while his other hand clasped the crusty remains of a sandwich. Kirsten smiled back at him. “Hi.”

  “Hello,” he whispered.

  “Are you having fun on the train?”

  He nodded his cherub head. Soft brown curls bobbed over his baby blue eyes. “Yep.”

  Kirsten twisted in her seat so she could get a better look at him. “You’ve been a good boy.”

  He smiled and seemed pleased she had noticed his manners. “Yep. We get there soon?” He screwed his nose up in comic frustration as he slid forward to get closer to Kirsten.

  “Pretty soon.” Kirsten smiled. “Are you bored?”

  The boy nodded his head and pouted. “Mummy’s sleepy.” He pointed a tiny digit in his mother’s direction. Kirsty turned and looked back over the seat. A pretty woman about the same age as Kirsten, her head bent back and eyes close, sat slumped into the corner of the seat. Her arm was curved protectively around her pregnant belly. Kirsten held one straight finger over her lips. “Shhh. Do you have a book to read?”

  “Uh-huh.” The toddler held up a wire bound book with brightly coloured pages. Kirsten beckoned for him to sit on her lap. “Come on, mum won’t mind. I’ll read it to you.”

  Delighted, the little boy took the book with both hands and clambered onto the seat next to Kirsty.

  As she opened the cover of the book smells of sweet no tears shampoo mixed with baby powder and left over yeasty vegemite spread wafted over her. The infant was a pleasant distraction from her otherwise uneventful trip. She never tired of watching the ocean as it pounded down on the sand, white foam beating layers from the rocks around the coast, but there was only so much you could see in four hours.

  The young boy’s name was Toby, and he sat with Kirsty for the next hour while his mother slumbered behind them. Three books later, and after a one sided conversation about the seals on the rocks down below as the train softly continued it’s rhythmic strum on the endless tracks, his mother woke. The train blew its whistle as they crossed a large rail bridge. Toby wriggled with joy against Kirsten’s legs as he peered down through the window. His breath created little circles of steam on the glass, which he promptly smeared into tracks with one finger.

  “There you are Toby.” His mother appeared from behind them, looking very tired, and Kirsten smiled at the heavily pregnant woman. “I told you to sit quietly and not bother anyone while mummy had a sleep.”

  “Oh, he’s no bother.” Kirsten held the boys arm as he scrambled down from the seat and joined his mother once more. “We were reading books weren’t we Toby? It’s my fault. You looked like you could do with a rest and we w
ere both so bored.”

  Toby nodded and took his pile of books from Kirsten. “Yep.” He looked back at his mother. “We nearly there yet Mum?”

  “Yes sweetie, we’re nearly there. We’ve just left Seddon now, so I guess it’s another twenty minutes.” She smiled at Kirsten. She had pale skin and full lips painted with pink gloss. “Thank you so much for entertaining the rat bag here. I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain.”

  “Not at all. He’s a perfectly pleasant wee man.” She looked down at Toby, who quietly sucked his thumb now he had his mother’s leg in his grasp. She held out her hand. “It was nice to meet you Toby. You look after your mummy, won’t you?”

  The child seemed happy to be treated with a gesture that only adults exchanged and he grinned. He offered his clammy hand to Kirsten and she shook it gently.

  “My mummy’s having a baby.” Toby lifted his hand and patted the protuberance in mention.

  “I know.” Kirsten let her eyes widen for effect. “Does that mean you’re going to have a brother or a sister?”

  Toby frowned, obviously unnerved at the prospect of a baby. “No,” he shook his head,

  “it’s a puppy.”

  The two women laughed as they exchanged glances.

  “Toby, remember we talked about this?”

  The little boy nodded somberly, as if his heart was set on having a dog instead of a tiny sibling.

  Kirsten opened her mouth into a big o and put her hand over it in imagined awe.

  “Baby sisters and brothers are so great. I have two baby sisters. You’re going to have so much fun.”

  The boy seemed to brighten a little and glanced at his mother for reassurance. She nodded and smiled in confirmation.

  “Okay.” He hid his face against his mother’s legs and yawned.

  “I’m Jennifer by the way.” She held out her hand for Kirsten to take.

  “Kirsty, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “You’re wonderful with kids. Do you have any of your own?”

  Kirsten shook her head and smiled. “I’m a nanny.”

  “Oh how interesting.” Jennifer smiled. “Well, you’re certainly in the right profession. This one seems quite taken.” She stroked the fine hair on Toby’s head. The little boy responded by humming a familiar nursery rhyme from one of his books.

  “Well it was just as much fun for me. I was getting a little tired of the trip myself.”

  Jennifer and Toby returned to their seats and Kirsten gathered her thoughts together. She had about ten minutes to herself before she deposited herself into the hands of a woman she had met only briefly. Was she really doing the right thing? She could have stayed in Christchurch; could have easily gotten another job. There were plenty of vacancies in the area, why the hell was she traveling five hundred kilometres away?

  She was pretty sure her parents had not wanted her to take the job. They hadn’t said as much; she was twenty-three and quite capable of making her own decisions, so they had

  let her do just that. She had never lived away from her home town before, especially in some backdrop remote part of the country she had not even visited. However she had heard the Marlborough Sounds was beautiful and now that she was actually on her way she couldn’t wait to find out.

  Jennifer had said she was good with children. She just had to focus on that right now. For she was about to be put in charge of a seven year old girl she had never met. Not only was she the Nanny, she was also responsible for the correspondence schooling of this little girl. Obviously Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton thought she could do it. Why else would she have chosen Kirsten over all the other applicants? If nothing else it was a challenge. And that was just what Kirsten was looking for right now. Something to keep her so busy she didn’t have to think about what she had left behind.

  * * * *

  Kirsten saw her new employer on the platform as the train pulled into the Blenheim station. Beth was not easy to miss. Kirsten guessed she was in her late fifties, possibly even early sixties if she looked better than her age indicated. Her short salt and pepper hair was immaculate, parted on one side at the front and swept back into a duck’s tail. She wore a large black hat, dark sunglasses, a neatly pressed beige suit jacket and matching skirt. Her blood red lipstick glistened in the bright sunlight. Looking at her, Kirsten immediately thought of the old adage of an English Rose. She had a wonderful complexion; Kirsten guessed she would have been stunning in her youth.

  “Hello my dear,” Elizabeth beamed as Kirsten approached.

  “Hello Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton.” Kirsten smiled as she pushed her wayward hair from her face. The day had started early and her attire had been the least of her worries. She had wanted to be comfortable for the trip, so she had worn a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt. Standing next to Elizabeth she suddenly felt very underdressed. She looked down at her white sneakers. As if sensing her discomfort the older woman smiled.

  “You’ll have to excuse me Kirsten dear, I’ve been to a meeting. I don’t usually dress up like this to meet people from the train. And please, call me Beth, everybody does.”

  “Well then please call me Kirsty.” The chill of an awkward greeting melted away as Kirsten smiled. “Did Sarah come with you?” She glanced around, hoping to catch a first glimpse of her new ward.

  “No, no, she’s at home. She did want to come but I had this business to attend to first. She tends to get a little car sick on the drive here too, so I thought it best she stayed home.” Beth smiled and waved her hand toward the train. A basin of smells wafted around her; strong sweet perfume, hairspray and cosmetics.

  “Do you have much luggage, honey?” Her voice was a strange mixture of Londoner and American drawl, with a hint of the kiwi accent showing signs of the duration she had lived in New Zealand.

  “No, not a lot.” Kirsten was used to being a nomad, moving from one job to the next, so traveling lightly was a prerequisite. She had only recently moved home from her last position, so things had not begun to accumulate again. The older woman looked pleased. “Oh, I’m so glad. I was going to bring Craig with me just in case you had a lot of heavy boxes, but in the end I had to leave him with Sarah.” She scowled. “My sons have both placed so much importance on Sarah’s well being that they have deserted her this week.”

  Kirsten wasn’t sure what to say. Beth’s tone was disapproving, her facial expression and the way her mouth was drawn in a reflection of her feelings. But as she looked back at Kirsten her mouth curled into a smile and she reached up to take off her dark glasses. Her eyes were a beautiful deep blue, almost turquoise in the afternoon light.

  “Do forgive me, honey.” She touched Kirsten’s arm. Her nails were neatly shaped and painted. “I do ramble on sometimes. You’ll find my expectations of the people around me are quite high, so don’t be offended. I’m always disappointed. I’m from England so everything has to be proper and I married a Texan so everything has to be over the top. There’s no winning with me.”

  Kirsten laughed. She liked this woman already.

  As the afternoon progressed she also learned Beth was correct. She certainly did ramble on. They talked about Sarah as they sat for coffee and a bite to eat before their two hour drive. When they reached the country road, Kirsten understood why Sarah suffered from car sickness. The road didn’t just wind, it lunged and rolled, weaving its way through the hills. After an hour the tar seal changed to thick gravel over a clay single lane. Judder bars from trucks which traveled in the wet, leaving their tyre marks permanently in the clay surface, often slowed their progress. Kirsten had never been car sick before, but her stomach lurched as the road continued its endless path.

  Thankfully Beth stopped at the side of the road for a rest and Kirsten scrambled down from the little four wheel drive. The hillside where they stopped was covered in native bush and birds were busy in the trees. The air was so still that Kirsten was awed by the sight. To the left of them the road dropped away, continuing the slope of the hillside to
the beach below. It was such a contrast to the ocean she was used to. This was no surf beach however. The water lay still like glass, reflecting the hills as a mirror would. Beth came to stand beside her. Again sensing her discomfort she said, “Don’t worry, we’re nearly there. Take a big gulp of that fresh air and you’ll be okay in a few minutes.” She pointed down the bay, where miles of bush and untouched land lay before them. A few houses dotted the hillside. “See that jetty out on the point?”

  Kirsten shaded her eyes and could see a boat tied at its mooring where Beth had indicated. “Yes, I see it.”

  “That’s our place.”

  “Oh, good.” Kirsten smiled, relieved their trip was nearly over; at least until the next time she needed to go into town.

  “You can’t see the house but it’s down there. I hope you’ll like it. We have tennis courts and a swimming pool. Sarah loves the water but she’s not a very confident swimmer yet.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  Even after Beth’s description of the house, Kirsten was pleasantly surprised when they pulled into the driveway. The long sloped entrance to the property wound through Manuka and Beech trees for about five hundred metres. Mossy undergrowth and green ferns covered most of the untouched hillside. When they emerged back into the sun the ground spread out into lush lawns, expertly manicured into thick rows of alternating shades of green. The house stood back against the hillside with three stories of windows towering in white palatial elegance. Kirsten imagined a mansion like this would seem out of place in such a natural setting, but it had obviously been built with care and consideration to the environment it occupied. The lawn ran down the hillside below the house, to another flat area, where the pool was dug into the ground, surrounded by

  natural stone tiles. The pool house beyond this was a tiny miniature of the house above, painted white with pale blue window frames.

  As Kirsten stepped from the car her feet crunched on the pebbled path. Tiny brown and white polished stones led the way to the patio, where wooden framed French doors stood open to the summer breeze.