Like Twigs in a Storm

  Like Twigs in a Storm

  Ross Richdale

  Published by Ross Richdale, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LIKE TWIGS IN A STORM

  First edition. August 27, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 Ross Richdale.

  ISBN: 978-1877438790

  Written by Ross Richdale.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Like Twigs in a Storm

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

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  Like Twigs In a Storm

  Ross Richdale

  ISBN 978-1-877438-79-0

  While converting a closed country school into a summer batch near Wellington, New Zealand, Steve Garnet meets neighbour, Lavina Ryland. Their friendship soon develops into a romance that hurtles them into danger and changes their lives and the life of Lavina's daughter, Cathy forever.

  Grant Ryland learns about his wife's infidelity and, in a drunken rage, drugs Lavina, Cathy and Steve. He abducts them and abandons the trio on an isolated mountaintop airstrip above bush-covered ranges, at least four day's walking distance from the nearest road.

  Facing an onslaught of life-threatening perils, including frostbite, raging icy rapids, and violent storms, the trio struggle to survive like twigs in a storm. Can they overcome the grave odds against them?

  Join this brave trio as their strength and love is repeatedly tested and they learn what it really means to be a family.

  *

  CHAPTER 1

  The faded yellow sign still warned traffic that there was a school ahead, but Steve Garnet knew better. After all, this was his latest acquisition. His tender for the Upper Forks Road School buildings and ten acres of land had been accepted and he was now the proud owner of this strip of countryside, a two-hour drive from the city. The last forty-five minutes of his journey, however, was along a narrow gravel road, which zigzagged up a hillside, down the other side and into an amazingly fertile valley of rolling farmland.

  After he parked his Jeep Wrangler in a slightly widened pull off area, Steve climbed out and walked up the concrete drive. There it was, the two-classroom school, wooden, a century years old but still solid and in a good state of repair. The grass around was short and, by the droppings dotted everywhere, had been kept that way by grazing sheep. To his left was a collection of wooden outbuildings: a toilet block, play shed and woodshed still half filled with firewood.

  He walked to the door; reached for the bunch of keys the land agent had given him and inserted the largest one in the lock. It turned with ease and the door swung open without a sound. Oiled floors and slightly musty smell of a closed interior hit his nostrils but the long corridor with pegs along the interior side looked clean and fresh. There was even a child's raincoat dangling on a peg next to the yellow classroom door. Under the outside windows a row of white porcelain sinks sat ready for use.

  The place seemed lonely and empty but in others ways, felt ready to receive children to come running in. It was like a school on Sunday afternoon waiting for the youthful crowds to arrive on Monday morning. Yet Steve knew the children had gone now; the school had been closed for at least five years and had been sold as redundant government property.

  The cheeky tender he had put in, sight unseen had been accepted so all of this was now his.

  He smiled to himself, walked into the closest classroom and gave a grunt of satisfaction. The afternoon sun bathed the room in light. This was typical of these old schools; all built the wrong way so they were shady in the morning and hot in the afternoon. A group of children's wooden desks were still there and even faded artwork and notices were pinned to the wall. An old square chip heater sat in a corner with its steel chimney towering up to the roof. Steve could imagine the children gathered around it on a frosty morning with red hands and faces getting warm. Back in his own school days at a small school, not too different from the one he was now in, they used to toast their sandwiches on the heater at lunchtime. The smell of burning wood and scorched bread still tickled his memory as a warm fuzzy feeling of security and peace.

  Bye Old School. Merry Xmas, the yellow and red chalk writing on the blackboard could still be read. With this was a conglomeration of children's names sprawled across the board and half a dozen children's sketches, some smudged out but others still quite clear.

  Steve walked out and along the corridor to the second classroom. This one looked dusty and deserted with only a few pieces of debris lying around. It seemed that before its closure only one room of the school was in use. Another door at the end led into a tiny staff room, still equipped with a sink, small stove, zip water heater, small table and a wooden couch with a mattress on it. Once again, the room appeared clean and tidy. He turned on a tap and after initial discolouring, clean water ran out.

  A polite cough made him glance up. A woman with short dark hair stood in the corridor. She had a faint, almost shy, smile on her face. His first impression was that she was attractive, of average height and appeared to be in her early thirties. She wore casual jeans and a light blue jersey.

  "So you're the one who outbid us in the tender for our school," she said in a pleasant educated voice and laughed. "It serves us right. We thought nobody would bother to tender so put in a price way too low."

  "Yes, actually I am," Steve replied and introduced himself.

  "Lavina Ryland," the woman said. "We farm the adjacent property and those are our sheep grazing the school football field. I'll move them out for you."

  "No, leave them," Steve said. "I have no animals to keep the grass down so, if you don't mind, they can stay there."

  "I see." Lavina glanced at him with hazel eyes. "Can I be rude enough to ask why you bothered to buy the property?"

  "Sure," Steve said. "I'm a computer consultant in town but like the outdoors." He shrugged. "I guess I bought it on impulse with a vague idea of converting it into a hideaway-cum-dormitory. There are numerous bush walks around and this could become a place to stay for my friends or myself."

  "So you aren't just interested in moving the building out," Lavina said. "That's what happened to the school house. One day a truck moved in and it was gone in a matter of hours."

  "No, my first thoughts are to keep it as it is. I only took it over this week."

  "I'm glad," Lavina said with a whimsical, almost sad expression. "I guess this is the last link to what was once quite a thriving little community." She smiled again. "I taught here, married Grant, a local farmer, and fourteen years later I'm still here."

  She walked into the first classroom and waited while Steve followed. "I came back and taught the last term before the school closed. It was down to twelve children. There were forty when I first came."

  "So all this was done by you?" Steve smiled and nodded at the blackboard.

  "Yes," Lavina said grinning. "I guess I should have cleaned it off years ago. I've been
the de facto caretaker as we leased the land from the government. I've kept the building clean. The locals used it for an occasional meeting but there aren't even many of those now. Everyone drives down to the hall on Lower Forks Road. I think this was last used as a polling booth for the election. We must have had one of the smallest number of voters in the country. I was polling officer." She stopped and bit on her lower lip. "Oh here I go reminiscing again. Please forgive me."

  "Sure, that's fine. I thought I was completely alone. It's good to meet a local."

  "One of the few," Lavina said. "There are only half a dozen families left in the valley now. Even the farms have amalgamated. The dairy factory and the local shop shut down before my time. We even had a hall once but it burned down ten years back." She gazed around the room and sighed. "The school was the last thing to go. They don't even run a school bus up here any more. My daughter was on correspondence."

  "And now?" Steve asked.

  "Cathy goes to boarding school." Lavina once again sounded sad. "She's only twelve but we thought it was the best thing for her."

  She chatted away for a few more moments before saying she must be off and excused herself. Steve escorted her to the gate and watched as the pleasant young woman climbed in an ancient Land Rover.

  "I live just around the corner," she called out the window. "Feel free to visit any time you're here. The kettle is always warm."

  "Thanks," Steve replied. "I might just do that."

  He watched as the old farm vehicle drove away, then turned and went back to lock up. The early spring shadows were already crossing the playground and a chill was in the air, a reflection of the higher altitude of the area.

  Steve returned to his jeep and sat deep in thought for a few moments before he started up and headed back to town. He was glad he'd bought the old school. It had distinct possibilities. In his mind's eye he pictured a dormitory in the second room, the main classroom as a living area and somehow the vision of his visitor came back to complement the picture.

  *

  Steve's home at 23 Ashley Grove was a large modern two-storied house with a double garage, and immaculate lawn. Inside there seemed to be two of everything, including two spacious living areas with balconies overlooking the hillside below and the city beyond.

  It was not a happy home though. In fact, Steve tended to live in only half the building since his wife, Trish, had left.

  With busy work commitments, Steve didn't return to Upper Forks Road School for three weeks. The spring was now moving into early summer and it was a hot cloudless day when he drove in with a trailer load of supplies behind his Wrangler. In his agreement with Trish he had shifted out of his home and into an apartment downtown. The garage at his house had been emptied and there was no room at the apartment, so he had decided to bring his workshop out to the school. Most of the gear that he had inherited from his father, a builder, had been barely used and he thought the power saw and other items would be useful at the school.

  "So this is the great holiday camp," Noel Capra, one of Steve's employees and a personal friend from high school days commented. "It looks in pretty good condition."

  "Yes, I was pleasantly surprised," Steve said. "Everything's there. We'll need bathroom facilities and perhaps a bigger kitchen." He showed his friend around and the two men lifted the equipment from the trailer into the second classroom.

  "Come on, let's look around the property," Steve said. "I haven't even been down the back yet."

  After a walk around the boundary and admiring the bush covered hillside across a steep valley the pair ended up at the old swimming pool; a fifteen-meter rectangle surrounded by a high wire netting fence and padlocked gate.

  "This would be great if you got it filled and filtered." Noel grinned. "Do the filters go?"

  "I have no idea," Steve said. He found the padlock key from his selection and opened the gate. Apart from the inevitable grass and weeds growing through cracks in the concrete, the pool looked in good order. There were even faded paintings of fish beneath the few centimetres of slime and mud that covered the bottom of the pool.

  "The filter looks okay," Noel called out from the wooden shed at the end of the enclosure. He stuck his head out and grinned at Steve. "If you like, I'll have a play around here for a while. If we can find where the water supply comes from..."

  Steve knew Noel was a real handyman and could get anything working. "Sure," he said. "I want to go and check out the school."

  "Yeah, I'll give you a hand there, too," Noel replied, but he was already absorbed in checking out the filters.

  Steve smiled and strolled back across the small crumbled weed strewn tennis court to the classroom and let himself in. With the power now on, he found everything worked well. For over an hour he worked at cleaning the rooms before he stopped for a break. He started drawing a floor plan of the building in his laptop when, once again, a polite cough interrupted his thoughts.

  Lavina, dressed in shorts and white tank top, caught his eye. He immediately thought how attractive she was with tanned limbs, curved figure and short but not severe hairstyle.

  "Hello again, Steve." She smiled. "Got a worker slogging it out over at the pool, while you're playing computer games I see."

  "Hi, Lavina," Steve replied and flushed at his innermost thoughts. "That's Noel. He's the handyman. I'm full of ideas but when it comes to practical work, I'm all thumbs." He turned the computer screen in her direction. "I'm sketching my ideas for converting the corridor into a bathroom and kitchen unit."

  "Can I have a peek?" Lavina stepped close to glance over his shoulder. He could smell her presence, the clean smell of hair shampoo and soap together with a faint whiff of perfume as she bent over to see his plan.

  "You've got quite a talent, here, Steve." She turned so her eyes gazed into his. They were wide and smiling, almost like Trish's back in those earlier student days.

  "Yes, well," Steve muttered. "You feed in the data and the computer can create different scenarios. I'll show you." He pressed a few keys and a three dimensional drawing of a kitchen unit appeared, showing a new wall, door and sink unit in what was now just the corridor.

  Lavina stared at the screen. "That's great."

  "It's one of the programs my firm has refined," Steve continued. He found it so easy to talk to this woman he'd only met once before. "There are several available from the big firms overseas but they use huge amounts of RAM. I wanted one that could be used in a home computer..." He stopped and smiled. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

  "No. Keep going. I'm interested."

  Steve grinned and spent several moments showing her his ideas for converting the old school into a small lodge with sleeping for a dozen or so visitors.

  “Steve,” Lavina said quietly when he'd finished, "I think your idea is grand. This is what the valley needs." She stood up and grinned. "Actually, I came across to invite you up for afternoon tea. Your friend too, of course."

  "That's kind of you. I'd love to come."

  "Great!" she said. "Make it forty minutes. I think I told you last time; I'm at the white house just up around the corner to the right. You can't miss it. See you soon."

  "Thanks." Steve's eyes followed her as she walked out and past the classroom windows. Just before she disappeared from sight, she turned, smiled and gave a tiny wave.

  Steve turned back to his laptop but found his concentration had gone. He switched the computer off and strolled out into the sunshine to find Noel.

  *

  CHAPTER 2

  Over the next two months, Steve visited Upper Forks Road School every weekend, sometimes with Noel and Geraldine, Noel's wife, but often by himself. Builders were employed and after a two-week stint, all the interior building alterations were complete. The walls were in, as well as new doors, a sink unit and other fittings. A plumber had installed two showers, modernized the sinks and declared the school water supply and septic tank in good condition. Everything was still in a raw state as Steve planned to do the p
ainting and other renovations himself.

  Every time Lavina turned up, Steve's attraction towards her grew stronger. Though nothing was said, he was sure the feeling was mutual. She rarely talked about her own life but on the few occasions, she mentioned her husband, her voice lost its sparkle and became listless...almost sad.

  Steve thought about her one late Sunday evening on his way home. That was the trouble, he thought about this woman too much. Whenever his mind wandered during the day, she would appear in his mind, smiling and smelling so clean and feminine when she brushed close to him. This weekend had been different in that he had met Grant Ryland, her husband. The man had been a pleasant enough sun-baked farmer in wide hat and work clothes but appeared years older than Lavina, and older than Steve himself.

  "I was young and impressionable," Lavina had commented one of the few times she'd mentioned her husband. "Just a second year teacher in my first permanent position. Then Cathy was on her way and we got married." She never elaborated but her eyes gazed sadly into the distant hills. "That was what good girls did in the country then. Attitudes are twenty years behind the city out here."

  That was when Steve almost tucked his arms around her. "Stupid bugger," he swore to himself and changed gears of the jeep on the top hairpin bend and headed down to the highway towards home.

  *

  Summer came with the school holidays and Steve found a new visitor to Old Forks Road Lodge, as he had renamed the property. He was painting the second classroom and was high on a plank held up by two steel trestles when two girls in their early teens walked in.

  "Hi," a slim girl with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail called up at him. "I'm Cathy Ryland and this is my friend, Donna." She nodded to her companion, a redheaded girl with shy smile and freckled face.

  Steve glanced down and immediately saw the resemblance between Cathy and Lavina. "Hi girls. Want a job painting?"