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She slept later the next morning, then went to church with her family to celebrate. Afterwards they had another fabulous meal and Mrs Elaman was delighted to receive the praise her avocado vinaigrette, followed by crayfish poached in wine, deserved. The household retired early and Frances too slept. Her time at home was almost over and Mr and Mrs Elaman were determined to make the most of the day. They drove together to Spencer Park, a beach reserve not far from Christchurch. They passed the camping ground and swept past the playground surrounded by pine trees. As they were early they had plenty of time to set up a good picnic spot with plenty of shade. Later they were pleased they had that forethought as the day turned out to be a real scorcher, with temperatures high in the thirties. Lying under the trees reminded Frances of Ian and she walked restlessly to the beach. Today the water was warm to her touch and she enjoyed the crashing waves, diving through them in delight. Mr Elaman had insisted they stay within the flagged areas as the beach had many danger spots with channelling and rips. Kathy joined her and shrieked with mirth when a large lump of seaweed wrapped itself round her leg. The next giant wave crashed over them and they surfaced grinning at each other. Martin came in then bringing the beach ball and threw it to land with a loud slap, sending diamond sparkles into the air. Kathy swam after the ball, the waves carrying it rapidly back to shore. She caught up with it, then threw it to Frances, who sent it spinning back to Martin. A wave caught him unexpectedly and he flopped back in an effort to catch it. Kathy found she had to rescue it again and declared it was too rough for such sport.

They spread-eagled themselves in the sun to dry, but the intense heat sent them back through the sandhills to their picnic spot, the sand burning their toes in the jandals. It was quite dark when they returned home many swims later and Frances was able to sleep from exertion and the healthy sea air.

The next day she packed her bag and put it ready in the sunroom. Jenny was due at the gynaecologist’s clinic and Gam would drive her in. Frances had told her mother that they would pick her up and Kathy spent most of the day running towards the drive whenever she heard the sound of a car slowing down. She was hoping the three boys would be coming too, and her vigil was finally rewarded. Mrs Elaman insisted that they have afternoon tea and the children were delighted to have icecream sodas. Gam and Jenny and Mrs Elaman chatted easily and Frances felt her heart do a skip when Gam reminded them of the date for the picnic and jetboat ride at Coppers. Once in the car the boys were full of excitement to tell Frances about their neat Christmas presents, tripping over superlatives to describe the horse, the saddle and the canoe. .

Finally their mother shushed them to a quieter murmur, claiming they would give Gam a headache. Gam drove easily and the big car cut out the miles quickly. At Coppers Gam got out and the boys politely carried her parcels. Frances helped too, but as she walked on to the sunporch her heart beat dizzily with earlier memories for a moment. There was no sign of Ian and she had deliberately refrained from asking Gam about him. She was glad when Jenny slipped into the driver’s seat and negotiated the drive through the tree tunnel, the darkness hiding her face. Within a few minutes they had reached home and the boys sped out, pulling her in three different directions at once. Despite herself Frances laughed merrily, then diplomatically suggested she looked at the closest treasures first. This was Thad’s canoe stored at the side of the garage. She clapped appreciatively as Thad demonstrated the way to port it easily and how to paddle.

‘Please say you’ll take me down the river sometimes, Frances. I’m not allowed in the main stream, just the side ribbons and only when there’s an adult around.’ He sighed. ‘Mum can’t at the moment and Dad and Uncle Ian are always busy. I’ve had it in the swimming pool and that’s neat fun,’ his dark eyes glowed and for a second it reminded Frances of Ian.

‘Of course I will, Thad, providing I get my work done,’ she said, much to the delight of the boy in front of her.

Then it was Ivan the Terrible’s turn at showing his saddle, a ‘proper grown up’ one with spaces for saddlebags and stirrups that glowed with polishing. He smiled proudly and said Frances could borrow it one day if she wanted to, and then Greg was tugging her hand to come to see his horse. An attractive small mare grazed in the paddock, and Greg visibly swelled with pride as she came trotting over to her young master. He was all for demonstrating that he didn’t even need a saddle or a bridle, but Frances cuddled his small figure and reminded him of his town clothes. To cheer him she praised the beautiful little chestnut mare extravagantly and told Greg he could go round the stock the next morning if he was up early enough.

The boys danced a series of movements of joy back to the house and were quite willing to go to bed after ‘Superman’, so they could rise early the next day. As they rode out together in the early morning light Frances glimpsed the excitement in their three faces. Work around the farm had been continuing while she had her holiday. The two big flat paddocks on which Rupert had tried an experimental crop had been harvested in her absence and Thad told her his father had been pleased with the results. When they came to a free flat paddock they all pulled up and she asked Greg to show what his horse could do. He dazzled them with fast runs and neat side steps and even Ivan and Thad were impressed. The mare had such a lovely nature she seemed to enter into the fun too. She tossed her head as though to say, ‘I’m better than you,’ and they all laughed. Obviously Jenny and Rupe had exercised great care in selecting their youngest son’s horse. When they raced together down the paddock Frances noted that now all three boys kept together and Greg’s face was red with pride.

It was lunchtime before they reached home as they had shifted some sheep and with all their merriment it had taken much longer than usual. After lunch Frances baked some cakes for Jenny, then peeled some vegetables. The boys helped with these and to reward them Frances said she would take the canoe to the river. Just as the second cake was pulled from the oven Jenny got up so she suggested they take the Land Rover and sling the canoe on to the back. They were made even happier when she said she would come too, and it was a cheerful group that bumped and crashed its way down the farm track to the river. They took the short cut through the grounds of Coppers and Frances remembered well the last time she had been this way. She was glad that driving the Land Rover demanded so much of her effort. It was a new experience for her and she wasn’t altogether sure she liked it. The boys made rude remarks when she sent them spinning into each other’s laps, until she reached the even path. She was glad Jenny was more comfortable, sitting smilingly in the front seat.

The river looped crazily over small stones in front of them. Today it looked placid and calm, though there was a hint of its force in the farthest stream. Closer to hand it had split itself into three streams and one of these formed a wide pool before rejoining the second stream much further down. Soon Thad was paddling up and down the pool; practising in the swimming pool at home had given him some ability, and he showed his prowess at paddling upstream before letting Ivan have a turn. Greg danced impatiently beside them, not caring that he was splashing water, but his turn eventually came. Surprisingly he seemed to manage even better than Ivan and he turned the boat quite neatly.

Jenny suggested to Thad that Frances have a turn and he handed her into the small canoe rather carefully. Frances’ boating expeditions had been limited to paddling a rowboat on the Avon a few times, but it was just as safe in this tiny obliging stream. She was surprised at how much room she had and wiggled herself into position. Thad let go and she paddled cautiously into the current. She backed the canoe round and laughed with the boys when she found herself turning the wrong way. Then she figured it out and really enjoyed herself, realising she could become as big an addict as the boys. Jenny regretfully eyed herself, openly regretting that she wouldn’t fit, and Thad promised her two turns after the baby was born.

‘At the moment I feel the size of the mountains— well, not quite, perhaps Pudding Hill,.’ she quipped, and they laughed again.

Ivan gave his mother a consoling hug, then took his turn at the boat. Thad made them have strict rotation and watching him Frances saw how like his father he really was. Jenny nodded, catching her eye and sharing the thought.

The sun was low in the sky when hunger finally drove them home. To disguise the bumps in the track they sang ‘Pop goes the Weasel’, the boys excitedly cheering when they finally crawled home. Jenny put on dinner immediately and Frances was glad it was all prepared. As they were finishing Rupe and Ian came in. Both looked bone tired and filthy, and Frances longed to hold Ian to her to comfort him and caress away the frown on his forehead.

Since Christmas he seemed to have aged, and contrasting her memory of the sleek, urbane figure with the weary, unkept, dirty man in front of her Frances felt her heart soften with tenderness. Jenny asked him to stay, but he replied that Gam was expecting him. He seemed ill at ease for the first time since Frances had known him, and she felt it was her presence which caused it. Rupe came back with some papers which Ian had wanted, apparently, and he glanced through them, then said goodnight. His glance at Frances seemed disinterested and casual and she staggered under it. She clenched her fists to control the feelings that sent the blood pounding to her forehead, then she was aware of Ian striding off. Too late she realised she had not thanked him for his Christmas gift, although one part of her was glad. She wanted to be alone with Ian when she said thank you. On that thought she felt warmed, and the memory of that casual glance didn’t hurt so much. Another small memory tugged at her too. Ian had his shirt open and gleaming against his bronze skin was the silver St Christopher medallion.

The few days after New Year passed quickly. Jenny was feeling most uncomfortable so Frances worked even harder around the house as well as doing her farm work. Finally Jenny remonstrated with her, urging her to relax but she told her it was a way to make up for the trouble over her leg. Each night Rupe came in late and Jenny would look hopefully for rain clouds. ‘I hope it rains soon, Rupe and Ian are pushing themselves so hard. Thank God for Sunday and your parents coming.’

On Saturday morning Frances left the farm early and with expert driving had rejoined her family for morning tea. She was relieved that she had managed the trip so easily, her ankle not troubling her at all. Mr and Mrs Elaman were going out visiting an old friend and Frances agreed to take Kathy to the beach. She had left her bikini at the farm, but found an old swimsuit tucked away and tried it on. It still fitted, but looking at herself in the mirror Frances knew she hadn’t put on any weight. Her bones were not very flattering and she determined to try to eat a little more. She pulled on a beach-robe and her big beach towel and walked out to the Mini.

They headed through quiet tree-lined streets until they joined the main stream of traffic, following the coast road towards Sumner. This time the tide was in, so they parked beside Cave Rock. The surf today was nonexistent, the waves having gone to sleep, lazily licking the sand. After a swim in the sun warmed water Kathy sunbathed and Frances climbed the nearby landmark of Cave Rock. By the mast on top she perched and watched the flight of the gulls wheeling and screaming for scraps. They reminded her of the gulls at the Rakaia and a glimpse of Ian’s face struck at her memory. She stood up to banish the picture and watched the birds again. Occasionally she saw a pied oyster-catcher, its long legs distinctive. Frances climbed down from her perch and with her beach robe over her slim form walked away from the crowds.

Her hair was beginning to dry and she felt its curls bounce on her shoulder. She remembered the way Ian wove it round his fingers and brushed it away, furious with herself for allowing his memory to torment her. She just about tripped over Kathy’s recumbent form and apologised to another figure as she sprayed it with sand. A shell attracted her attention and she stooped to pick it up, admiring its shading from cream to amber. Some of the other delicate shells she picked up too and put in her pocket; the boys would enjoy making things with them one wet day. The tide was going out now, leaving more shells behind and she picked up an unusual one in a deep orange colour. Her inspection showed her a tiny creature occupied it so she set it back into the sand. In a small tidal pool trapped by the rock she could see some other shells and she bent to retrieve one. As she did so she noted a tiny starfish blending beautifully with the sand of the pool. She examined it in detail, enthralled with her find,' and signalled to Kathy. That young lady was too lazy to move, merely waving a nonchalant arm, evidently considering her sunbathing of more importance. Frances continued her walk, her hazel eyes reflecting the colours around her of sand and sea. Her path was isolated now, only the sea birds keeping her company. In one corner she noticed some strange birds with unusual beaks. She crept closer moving quietly so she would not disturb them. Now she was certain she was watching the bar-tailed godwits. Her father had been quite a student of birds and she remembered the magical day she had seen them as a child. He had called them the travellers and told her that in March or April they would fly in great chevron patterns across the world to Canada or Siberia, Looking at their stance as they fed greedily they seemed quite plump and ordinary, only their beaks extraordinarily deft as they flicked the shellfish out.

Most of the birds filling the skies now were the white terns and the red-billed gulls, still screaming insults. One came closer to her, cawing loudly, and she smiled. He hardly qualified as a singing bird, she thought. Reluctantly she turned back, her thoughts of Ian a dim pain. She knew he would be working hard, the weather was still fine, and she glanced round at the sky hoping it would still be fine in the morning.