SET in New Zealand's South Island.
CHAPTER 1
Iona was not quite a year old when brought to New Zealand fifty years ago by her Scottish parents Ross and Jennie MacDonald.
Ross, a keen fisherman, spent his first two years labouring on a farm on coastal Otago and working late into the night rebuilding an abandoned wrecked fishing boat, buying tools and materials as money allowed, the family surviving near the breadline. Men from his football team had helped haul the hulk off the reef and on to the beach above high water mark, a quarter of a mile from where the family was housed. Some of those friends helped on the project and donated materials.
At the end of that second year Ross put to sea with a crew of two and began to build the most successful fishing company in the southern half of the South Island. People and building suppliers who'd helped him put to sea were paid back handsomely.
Almost every year for twenty-four years the company acquired another vessel and then Ross drowned, dragged under when caught in a snagged fishing net.
Iona and her husband Gavin Phelps took over the business on behalf of her ailing mother. They reduced the enterprise to a 15-boat fleet. MacDonald Fisheries prospered and just four months ago Gavin died suddenly from a clot. Iona, two months short of turning fifty, sold the business. She gave substantial cheques to her two children and retired to a huge house she'd purchased.
Two days ago Iona's son visited, anxious for Iona to take back her life.
"Mum, if you don't budge from this dilapidated dwelling I'll attempt to have the authorities order it demolished."
"Don't you dare talk to me like that Grant. Now get out of here."
Grant, a medical student, left angrily but came back sheepishly when his mother yelled, "Shut the door Grant."
Senior law student Fiona visited her mother next day and used quite a different approach. "Mum, I don't like you being shut up in this dark and dank house. If you could live somewhere else near here what would be your choice?"
"MacDonald Farm. But that's a problem because it's now part of Kincaid Station."
"I'll see what I can do."
"I'm not spending money on any purchase of land."
Fiona smiled confidently and said she understood. After making afternoon tea for her mother and clearing away she left wondering had that been a waste of time.
But no. She waited a week to get an appointment with Sir Alec McKenzie, a prominent businessman and owner of six cattle stations collectively running 163,000 head of stock.
"You're well dressed and too pretty to be a university student," Sir Alec smiled. "So you're here to solicit money for a damn university research project?"
"I've dressed to impress and I'm here to ask you to house my mother."
Taken aback he scowled, "Are you out of your mind?"
"My mother is Iona Phelps now reverted to Iona MacDonald. You and she had an affair when I was at high school."
"Get up and close the door."
"Yes sir."
"And don't be so bloody subservient."
"And up yours."
Fiona caught the grin on the florid craggy face and heard him say, "That's the caper. You are awfully like your mother, the Mark 2 version of course. Of all the affairs I've had your mother was the best."
"What were the other instances with men or sheep?"
"Now look here young lady..."
"You'll do what?" the auburn Fiona said, rising and her cheeks flaming.
"God you are like your mother. Sit down and behave. Um, please sit Fiona. Good. I hear she's become a recluse since your father's unfortunate death."
"You knew my father?"
"Dunedin and its shores are not all that large. One of my companies did all the maintenance of the MacDonald Fisheries fleet."
Looking around the spartan office, Fiona asked, "Did you lose the business when mum sold?"
"Do I look stupid?"
"You are tempting me Sir Alec."
He grinned. "Craig is coming home soon. He's had two years working on his grandparent's estate in the north of Scotland and is buying bulls in Scotland and England and bringing them home to supplement our breeding lines. I must introduce him to you."
"If he's anything like you, no thanks."
Sir Alec grinned. "He's like his mother."
Fiona burbled, "Ohmigod, couth, good looking and educated. Make sure you introduce him."
"Yes," smiled the three-times widowed businessman, a little sadly. "Off you go Fiona. I have other people waiting. I shall call you."
* * *
Iona MacDonald stood at the front door of the house she grown up in, on the property her father had settled on and later had purchased and then sold years later to McKenzie Farmlands Corporation to finance the building of a deep sea trawler. It had grazed sheep but now ran cattle. Fiona handed over the key and Iona opened the door while her daughter warned, "Farm hands have been living in this house and the rear bedrooms were destroyed by fire."
"I'll have it upgraded to my satisfaction. Just look at that sea will you? Your grandfather threw me into that water repeatedly and so I learned to swim about the same time I learned to walk."
"A little later you learned to swim I should think."
"Who's telling this story Fiona?"
The house passed inspection, Iona saying she'd lived in worse.
"I gave you my shopping list. Did you get everything?"
"Yes, apart from the shotgun. Why do you want a shotgun?"
"To shoot rabbits and pheasants to eat, perhaps water fowl, and warn off undesirables like Alec McKenzie."
"It's his land."
"You negotiated my lease of this house and the five-acre paddock behind it. Where's the horse and my yearling Hereford bull?"
"No way was I going to choose for you. You can do that. Go to the corporation's show case Highlands Estate for your pick."
"No, I want them from off this land. I believe like people they feel part of the land."
"That's bollocks."
"And that's filthy language. And I'll ask again. Where's my shotgun?"
"Go to a gun shop in the city after you've secured a police permit for a gun licence. If you show you are unstable as I think you will, you'll not get a licence."
"God you are a cheeky young bitch Fiona. You must have Grant's balls."
"Stop putting him down. Grant has the perfect sensitivity to be a great doctor. Woman patients will flock to register with him."
"I bet. Have you seen what he packs?"
"Mom, that's foul."
Fiona helped her mom carry in things from the Land Rover and the boot and back seat of Fiona's car. Fiona then came in with her hunting rifle. "Here, keep this till you get your shotgun. It's rather remote out here."
"Not having your gun in your possession is a breach of your licence. You could be fined in court."
"So? The safety of my mother is of more concerned to me than a court fine."
"That charge if proven could prevent you from being admitted as a barrister of the High Court next year."
"Don't worry. I'd get my law school heads to get of their backsides and take my case to appeal on the grounds that the safety of my mother was paramount."
"Oh darling you do care for me. Take your gun back home. I'll defend myself with my axe."
"Take the gun mother and shut up. Now you follow orders. You are to eat good healthy food and go for walks each day to the beach, twice a day I should think. Continue to remember dad but also come out of mourning. I want you fit and healthy ready to become Lady McKenzie the 4th. I quite like the old bastard. He has something that substitutes for charm and it certainly worked on me."
"Darling, you are demented. Please hurry home and take a good laxative. And don't forget to visit me occasionally. You might tell Grant he's welcome. If he calls on this damn cell phone you gave me I'll know to cook dinner for him but he can bring his own wine. I'll establish a cellar when all the renovations are done."
"Renovations? The lease you signed authorizes you to make good with repairs and maintenance. Renovations will be a breach of your lease."
"Spoken like a demented lawyer darling. While driving home try to define the difference between repairs and maintenance and renovations. Please give mummy a kiss and go. You worry too much. Don't forget that laxative."
Iona waved Fiona off and sat outside on a near-collapsing bench. She looked around and held back the memories. Time for them later. She smiled and thought good girl Fiona getting her out of that crappy house and out here where she felt free. God the salt in the air was improving her already. Actually she was more isolated than in the old house. Well she had a vehicle. She could drive to the city and go to the village to occasionally buy a newspaper and read it over coffee. She might find some people who knew from childhood.
Deciding she didn't mind her parent's former farm being part of Kincaid Station, Iona wondered where the cattle were. According to the lawyer who transacted the lease there were almost 8,000 breeding cattle on the station plus bulls and younger cattle. God she'd love a whisky. Perhaps she should call Alec and tell him to come with a bottle and she'd cook him a decent meal. Oh yeah?
Iona went inside, opened more windows and began storing provisions. She took out a pack of rat bait and looked around for droppings but saw none. And then, "Ah good girl Fiona." From another box she'd pulled out a bottle of single malt.
"Fiona, I love you." She would have just the one small glass at sunset. That's when she'd think about living here and when her father threw her into the sea when she was about three. Yes Fiona, she would have been running by then.
* * *
Next morning an hour after dawn three farm hands [cowboys] were moving 110 bulls up from the far end of the station bordered by the sea on three sides. They were downwind of the old house when Bert Brown said, "I smell coffee."
"Yeah?" Clancy said. "You need a couple of nights in town buddy. Next you'll be saying you smell pussy."
Young Jim came roaring over on his farm bike, taking a wide arc behind the bulls to avoid spooking them, his dog Chum sitting on the fuel tank front feet on the handlebars. He drew up alongside Clancy. "There's someone in the house. I saw smoke from the kitchen chimney."
"Then it was coffee I smelt," Bert said. "Let's cadge some when we get up there."
A woman came out and waved to the guys.
The bulls were in a long line two to four abreast. A young bull near the front saw the woman and trotted over to her aggressively.
Clancy groaned, "Oh shit, we're too far away to get to her in time. Ever Chum can't run that fast."
The men didn't want to spook the herd but accelerated up the side of them to provide whatever assistance to the woman they could.
She remained calm as the 2-year old got near and then suddenly threw her hands above her head and screamed something. The startled 1000lb Aberdeen Angus bull took fright and veered away.
"I'll handle this," said Bert. "You two hurry on stragglers."
"Good morning ma'am."
"Oh hi, I'm Iona MacDonald. I grew up in this house."
"You mean Iona Phelps?" Bert said, taking off his Acubra [Stetson].
"You are well informed."
"Well I haven't been informed you'd shifted in."
"Well kindly inform everyone. I have leased this property from Sir Alec an old friend of mine, if you can call it friendship. You and the boys come in for coffee. I've not long taken scones from the oven. Wood is scarce as hen's teeth around here."
"There's driftwood on the beach."
"Oh yes, of course."
When the men were sitting down to coffee and hot buttered scones Young Jim asked, "What on earth did you shout at that bull. It scared him."
"What anyone would do. I yelled "Get the fuck out of here?"
The table shook as the guys laughed.
