(Set in New Zealand)
Chapter 1
Dee Dee (her real first name) Ascot-Jones faces a big problem. Well, don't we all, several times a day in fact, especially if we handle a high-powered job or dysfunctional teenagers?
But no. Dee Dee's problem is a matter of the heart. And no, she's not afflicted by an under-performing valve or a faulty blood supply. She's infatuated with her gardener, Lady Chatterley style, which presents a problem because she's married to a ruthless guy bent on achieving social advantage who would likely thump the gardener to pulp if he ever found out what went on in the toolshed.
The big downside in allowing her heart to swing away from her husband, was that her friends may well go into their garden shed at noon and drink a glass of fine wine while being shafted by their gardener, and perhaps some of his helpers as well.
But marry a gardener as a replacement following divorce. Oh, no, that's just not done, at least in upper-crust English society!
Intelligent women, for whom social standing is paramount, don't seek social rejection.
Imagine how humiliating that scale of rejection would be on the children, the grandparents, long-time school friends and even the old school?
Then there are the neighbours, one's pre-eminence at church on Sundays where seating is on merit according to lineage, peerage, one's husband or wife patronage of the church, skill at playing bridge and keenness on certain breeds of dogs.
Under enormous psychological pressure, Dee Dee was showing signs of stress and under medical advice was advised enter a health clinic or to go far away to some part of the country where the biggest concern of the day was wondering what's for dinner.
Dee Dee used a private investigation agency to provide her with a list of patients currently domicile in the better class of health clinics, and it didn't make impressive reading.
It appeared scarcely anyone who was anyone was currently going through a personal crisis and was in residence at one of these esteemed establishments where the main focus appears to be to separate wealth from their famous guests.
Then Dee Dee remembered Kate in New Zealand, a Colonial girl who'd gone 11,500 miles to school where Dee Dee was a residential student.
It had fascinated Dee Dee that a girl would go such a long way to school and the two girls become very friendly indeed. It turned out that Dee Dee's mother, born and raised in London's posh area of Belgravia, had been a highly regarded equestrian eventer in her late teens and had captained an invitation female team playing polo against an all-male team of high social standing fellows at a charity fund-raising event attended by the Prince of Wales and three Dukes and five Duchesses and the females thrashed the half-drunk males, winning 9-1.
Dee Dee's mother had married a New Zealand international racing car driver she met at a bar in Soho and they went to live in New Zealand after Reggie developed bad gout with him promising their two infant daughters would be sent to England to be educated at their mother's old school.
Kate and Dee met again three years ago and the celebration of present and former girls who gathered to celebrate the 150th year since the founding of their school.
Dee Dee, one of the celebrity speakers at the Sesquicentennial Dinner described her best friend at school, Kate King as she was then, standing up in class and terrifying the teacher and most of the girls with her dissertation about the establishment and operation of an egalitarian society in her home country of New Zealand.
Some of the girls were appalled that servants were virtually non-existent in that country, and being told the unofficial national motto was "Jack's as good as his master" almost caused them to panic.
And so, ten days later, a small notice appeared in the social pages of London's most influential newspaper read by the gentry, oh and others, stating 'Lady Dee Dee Ascot-Jones leaves today for New Zealand where she will stay on a sheep station for six weeks with an old school chum, Kate King as she was then. The station - a term for a super-sized farm - runs 128,000 Merino-cross sheep [Note: 128,000 rather than 128 is the correct number of sheep].'
Dee Dee's husband, Sir Richard, wanted his wife to take at least a couple of servants and a chauffeur with her, but she refused, saying she wished to 'live like a native and find the inner-tranquillity of myself'.
After that rejection, Sir Richard's only concern was about her leaving him with more than sufficient money to run the estate as well as to finance his usual excesses; he was pleased to find Dee Dee had been a darling and taken care of everything.
* * *
A highly excited Kate Stewart met Dee Dee at Christchurch airport and they headed south for Sighing Hills Station, a property stretching from flat grasslands and then rising steeply into the foothills of the Southern Alps - almost 520,000 acres in all.
"But it can't be that large as that is almost as large at Nottinghamshire in England where my father born that covers 540,000 acres."
"Well we know the size of our station," Kate smiled. "The children are ever so excited that you're coming to stay with us. That all think you are a Princess, daughter of the Queen. Little Toby intends to ask you if Richard rides a white horse and carries a sword, so please take care how you answer; six-year-olds are so impressionable."
"Your Ronald, how is he?"
"He's just dandy and is absolutely certain that I'm pulling his leg to embarrass him by saying he should just call you Dee Dee and not Lady Ascot-Jones.
"Oh, I must warn you that the women of the district are planning a soiree next weekend to demonstrate to you that we know how to keep up appearances. They are expecting you to wear a tiara."
"But I don't have one with me, in fact I don't even own one of the stupid things."
"Then just wear pearls as a head band, I can lend you mine."
"Thank you dear, but I do have pearls with me. It's simply not done to travel without one's pearls."
"Hip, hip," teased Kate, and they giggled almost uncontrollably.
While in England, Kate had gained a reputation for taking the mickey out of British aristocracy, and taught those she came in contact with that the Kiwi (New Zealand) expression for taking the micky was 'taking the piss'.
"Your older brother, Duncan, is he well?"
"Oh yes and still a confirmed bachelor though he runs with the loners."
"What's that?"
Kate explained that whenever Duncan came across a comely woman adrift from her man, he'd step in to ensure she got her fill.
"Her fill!" cried Dee Dee, turning pink." You haven't changed have you, you filthy-mouthed bitch."
They had another giggling fit.
"So, Duncan's not queer?"
The 4WD vehicle lurched towards the side of the road. Kate, gaining control, had turned white.
"Dee Dee, now listen carefully, very carefully.
"Men who farm these foothills here in the South Island call themselves Southern Men. They drink beer by the gallon, can eat their meat raw if necessary and fancy themselves as being very tough. Their moto is they are the backbone of the country."
"They'll take almost any shit thrown at them - excuse my French - but there are two no-noes. Never mistake them for an Aucklander, that's the name for citizens of our biggest city way up north, and never mistake them for being homosexual.
"Honest, Dee Dee, there's no telling what one would do if you labelled him a homosexual. It's inbred in them culturally to defend womanhood against any kind of threat including prevent any husband or lover from shirking his carnal duty by repeatedly claiming that she has a fearful head-ache."
