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."