* Set in New Zealand
CHAPTER 1
For nineteen years Greer Gregory spent New Year's Eve and all of January 'at the beach'. Being at any beach in mid summer was where many New Zealanders females lost their virginity by the age of eighteen.
But not Greer.
She'd turned nineteen in July and at the end of December, Christmas just behind them and the family was packing to go to the beach (they never called it Sinclair Beach named after the original surveyor) she was appalled she'd remained a virgin. Three times that year she'd made abortive attempts to lay a different guy and in despair had even whispered her need to her father Keith, half-hoping he would attend to her. But he'd just grinned, ruffled her dark hair and said she should just wait, that it was happen.
Well miraculously it did. In mid-January that summer a much older guy came across her sunbathing in the sand hills, began chatting to her and she invited him to sit beside her and share a cool drink.
The inevitable occurred and Greer returned to the bach (an unpretentious style of beach house), a huge smile on her face.
It was now fourteen years later.
Greer's parents had long sold the by then little-used bach with three of their four children scattered around the world and the fourth married to a tour operator in the South Island. Greer who'd become a successful novelist had only recently returned from the UK following the end of her childless marriage. Her husband had been fatally crushed in an accident at the airport where he was based as a pilot. The size of the compensation payout and his personal insurance meant she was a wealthy widow.
Excited at being back at the beach Greer stepped out of her hire car. The bach looked almost as she'd remembered it. It would be a great place from which to write. She knocked and a woman, much too large for her bikini, came to the door. She didn't look beach-friendly.
"Yes?"
"Are you the owner of this property?"
"Co-owner but sorry lady, we don't rent."
"I might be a keen buyer."
The eyes of the fatigued-looking dyed blonde narrowed. "Come in. My husband could be interested; I certainly am. After the kids left the place looking like shit yesterday we talked about selling."
The sale and purchase agreement was signed on Wednesday with settlement date in twenty-one days, January 31. Greer couldn't remember being so happy since the day she'd lost her virginity down along the beach.
She shifted in with just two bags, having purchased the bach 'as is', the price including all furniture and furnishings and even cutlery but not bedding. Her parents had installed most of the furniture after they'd had the bach built.
A van arrived not twenty minutes after she'd unlock the door for the first time. The two men delivered bedding including new mattresses for two double beds and the three single beds. They took away the two sets of double bunks to the auction mart.
During the next three days decorators repainted the interior. Then while the floors were sanded and three coasts of polyurethane applied Greer spent four days the next week staying several baches along the beachfront with Peter Bishop and his wife Wendy. Peter had invited her to stay with them during renovations rather than return to the town. Greer had grown up at the beach in summers with Peter who alas had taken Wendy's virginity instead of hers. He was a really nice guy. Peter introduced them and Greer deduced that Wendy, obviously pregnant, was in need of a friend of similar age at the beach. She learned the couple had gone to university together and were accountants with their own practice.
"Ohmigod, THE Greer Gregory," Wendy gurgled when seeing the book award plaques on Greer's bedroom walls when they'd come to inspect Greer's new home. "I have four no five of your novels."
"Oooh, in that case I must be good," Greer smiled softly and knew at that instant she was on the way to becoming one of Wendy's best friends. That became so obvious with Wendy hugging her and saying Greer was such a modest darling.
"Open some wine Peter while I cuddle your lovely lady and her baby, er your baby too."
Peter glanced at Greer approvingly as he went to the refrigerator.
Greer felt she'd arrived home. Every school holiday break and many weekends throughout the years her family had lived in this bach. Strangely, she had little recollection and even less affinity for their more substantial home in the town.
"I love the beach," she said.
Wendy said they did too and spent almost every weekend there. "I'm so happy to have you here. I must tell my brother Sebastian to visit us. You might really like him."
Oh yeah, Greer thought. She'd heard that optimistic claim a number of times. Females seemed almost desperate not to allow a previously married woman remain unmarried.
* * *
With darkness only just lifting next morning Greer smiled, watching the old Maori gentleman -- very correct use of the word -- Mr Pita Horo, looking even more stooped these days, walking to the reef at the southern end of beach, fishing rod in one hand, tackle bag in the other. She recalled watching Mr Horo for the first time she could remember, when she was about four; he seemed old then.
After pouring coffee Greer booted her laptop and began her new novel, set in the then British Colony of New Zealand, the year 1863.
Sullen and yawning unladylike, Lady Elizabeth Rowan-Steele stood at the door of the raupo hut on the sand hill, reputedly sited above the highest tides in living memory. She gazed intently at the fine warrior-like body of the Maori walking towards the edge of the sea. Orange dawn crept into the bay and Elizabeth kept watching, waiting for the native man or Maori her husband had told her to call Pita, to begin some kind of pagan ritual. He stood transfixed, knee deep in water when suddenly he lunged and held up a frantically wriggling fish now working its way down the shaft of his spear.
Elizabeth smiled, forgetting the primitive conditions she'd been thrust into since coming off their reasonably comfortable quarters on the brig Lady Liverpool. Yes, a nice portion of fresh fish for breakfast would go down a treat.
* * *
On Wednesday Greer went to the town by taxi. The Bishop's had invited her to dinner that evening and to stay the night, Peter anxious for her not to drive the winding road to the beach after having consumed liquor. Wendy insisted she accept and so it was settled.
Greer banked two royalties' cheques that had come in the mail and then visited pre-owned vehicle yards to kick tyres while listening salespeople give their views on the best car to be kept parked in the open at the beach. The opinions ranged from the ridiculous -- a Toyota soft-top sports car -- to one that really appealed, a two-year-old high mileage Land Rover Defender 'priced to sell'. Her style was to drive unspectacularly so performance wasn't an issue but she wanted a vehicle built to withstand rugged conditions, so purchased the Defender after checking the claim that it was indeed priced to sell.
After a light lunch Greer set up her laptop in the town library and spent the afternoon researching early history of the district to incorporate some facts in her novel. With relief she found a reference that the name Pita (Peter) was in use by Maori locally in the mid-1850s, presumably introduced by early English missionaries.
Just before 5:00 when she knew Wendy would be finishing work, Greer called her and said she'd give her a ride home in her new vehicle.
"This is not an economic vehicle to own but it's in great nick," said Wendy the accountant, having no idea of Greer' financial position after buying the bach or that her new friend had just banked money from her publisher that had converted to more than $NZ28,000.
Wendy poured Greer wine.
"Thank god Peter will have someone to drink with; he hates drinking by himself and I won't touch it again until three months after baby is born. He even suggested, half-jokingly, that I seek an induced early delivery."
"Christ aren't men cold-hearted?"
Wendy looked astonished. "You know that was my exact thought when he said that, my very words."
"Did you kick him?"
"No but I thought of it."
"This is nice wine -- you fruit juice looks more water than fruit."
"It is. I desire to be a good mother."
"Wendy, can you fit me in as a client?"
"Yes sure. I could do it at the beach if you sort out everything for me."
"Um it becomes rather complex because I wish to avoid double taxation where possible and my investment income comes from all over the place."
"Roughly what annual income are we talking about?"
"Well with compensation and insurance payments after my husband Archer's death invested I'll expect my income to top $800,000 in the next twelve months. My income from my writing is rather substantial."
"Ohmigod, that's a packet. I graduated in law as well as business administration/finance and am licensed to practice as a solicitor so can also attend to your legal work if that's your wish. Who did you use for legal work when you purchased the bach?"
"Mr Shields."
"Ohmigod. Believe me darling real estate transactions are probably the only thing he is reasonably competent at. I must peruse your ground lease because some around you are due for renewal."
"No, it's fine, eight years to run. I made sure I looked at that but I'll be handing over all documents when I sign on with you. Here's to baby."
"Aw, what a sweet toast. You are lovely Greer."
* * *
Greer was sunbathing in the sand hills mid-morning, determined to return inside before the fierce heat of the midsummer day when a guy walked fairly close to her.
"Hi, looking to spy on couples doing it?" she joked.
He looked slightly guilty and said "Nah." Drawing away from staring at her well-filled bikini top he took a closer look at her face and said, "Greer, Greer Walsh?"
"Aye but I married so it's Greer Gregory now. Are you Jimmy Applefield all grown up?"
He grinned. "Right on the button babe. I'm a national park ranger these days and I can see where you've grown."
Greer took the chance. "They are in desperate need of attention Jimmy. My husband died three months ago. Remember I allowed you to spray my tits as part of your 19th birthday?"
"Hell yes and you were my first fuck although we didn't quite finish because mum caught us at it."
"Come to lunch -- I think I have condoms."
"Er I married Josephine Lucas."
"Well she'll be sharing it round still won't she?"
Jimmy's embarrassment showed. "Very rarely these days I believe. We have two kids and she's involved in women-interest groups."
Until now Greer hadn't been aware that having children and being involved in women-interest groups put the damper on adultery. "Well please yourself Jimmy. Lunch is at 12:30. I've..."
"Recently purchased your folks' old bach. I heard that. I called just now and found the front door open so guessed you must be around somewhere and so came looking for you."
"For what purpose?"
"God Greer, back off," Jimmy said flushing. "Just to say hello."
