Paulette Rae - Beside The Brook

Beside The Brook

By: Paulette Rae

ISBN - 978-1-877546-01-3

All rights reserved

Copyright Aug. 2009, Paulette Rae

Cover Art Copyright Aug. 2009, Brightling Spur

Bluewood Publishing Ltd

Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

www.bluewoodpublishing.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to a somewhere rather than a someone ... The Kenepuru Sounds will forever have a special place in my heart and without it this story would never have been born. Frampton Grange, the house where the story takes place, while exaggerated for the story, was inspired by a beautiful home I always admired when I was young. Surrounded by beautiful native New Zealand bush with views of the green hills and water, which are sometimes unbelievable, the Sounds is a little slice of heaven I keep with me always. Never take these gifts for granted.

Chapter 1

Another tunnel plunged the train into darkness. The steady rhythm of the steel wheels against the tracks echoed back from the concrete walls as Kirsten momentarily caught her own reflection in the window. This was most off putting. One minute she was gazing at the raging ocean of the South Island's East Coast and the next minute all she could see was her face, complete with an unruly mop of flaming hair, staring back at her.

She sighed and looked around at the other passengers. It had been four hours now, surely they must be near their destination. However she suspected it would be at least another hour before the train stopped in Blenheim, for they had to travel inland before they got there.

Kirsten unfolded the letter she had tucked into the back pocket of her jeans and read the words again. The creases in the page were dangerously close to ripping from being taken out so many times. Everything had happened so fast that she had to keep looking at the letter to remind herself it wasnt a dream.

Dear Kirsten,

I have much pleasure in announcing that you have been chosen for the position of Nanny with our household.

Needless to say Sarah is excited to meet you. We hope you will be able to join us in no longer than two weeks. This, we feel sure, will give you time to get acquainted with our family before Sarah resumes her lessons.

As I previously explained, when we met in person last week, the room we have for you is fully furnished, but please feel free to bring your own comforts. The days of work as I have also explained will be Monday to Friday, but I hope you will be flexible with these to fit in with our busy lifestyles here.

I have enclosed enough funds for you to get as far as Blenheim on the train (the bus is so uncomfortable) and I will meet you personally once you confirm your date of arrival. If you have any questions then please feel free to contact me directly. Kindest Regards,

Elizabeth Ainsley-Frampton

Kirsten curled the letter back into her pocket as the train whipped from the end of the tunnel, into daylight once more.

She had applied for the job online about a month ago. Not long afterwards she had received a call from a very well spoken woman who called herself Beth. She wanted to come straight away and interview Kirsten. The application had been made on a whim. Kirsten was desperate to forget a bad experience with a past employer, so the opportunity to flee to the other end of the Island was very inviting. Now she wasnt so sure. She was also leaving behind fabulous parents and two younger sisters to go and live in a house full of strangers. She had not met Sarah, the little girl she was supposed to be caring for. For all Kirsten knew she could be the demon brat from hell. From what Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton said, Sarahs mother had died when she was very young. What type of issues did a child bear, having lost her mother at such a tender age?

Kirsten puzzled over the we that Mrs. Ainsley-Frampton referred to. In the interview she had mentioned other family members only briefly, Sarahs father Jamie and Beths own son, Tyler.

Kirsten had also picked up that Beth was originally from England and had moved to the United States to marry a rich Texan. How she ended up single in New Zealand with two children Kirsten did not know, neither was it her business, but the history of the eclectic family members intrigued her to no end. If nothing else the job would be interesting; a challenge she was looking forward to.

Nevertheless a storm of butterflies rose in her stomach as the train propelled itself closer to her destination.

A small boy in the seat behind her, who had been quiet for most of the trip, but was now obviously bored, poked his smiling face around Kirstens seat. His little fingers on one hand gripped the edge of the foam seat from behind. Brown vegemite smears dotted his cheeks, while his other hand clasped the crusty remains of a sandwich. Kirsten smiled back at him. Hi.

Hello, he whispered.

Are you having fun on the train?

He nodded his cherub head. Soft brown curls bobbed over his baby blue eyes. Yep.

Kirsten twisted in her seat so she could get a better look at him. Youve been a good boy.

He smiled and seemed pleased she had noticed his manners. Yep. We get there soon? He screwed his nose up in comic frustration as he slid forward to get closer to Kirsten.

Pretty soon. Kirsten smiled. Are you bored?

The boy nodded his head and pouted. Mummys sleepy. He pointed a tiny digit in his mothers direction. Kirsty turned and looked back over the seat. A pretty woman about the same age as Kirsten, her head bent back and eyes close, sat slumped into the corner of the seat. Her arm was curved protectively around her pregnant belly. Kirsten held one straight finger over her lips. Shhh. Do you have a book to read?

Uh-huh. The toddler held up a wire bound book with brightly coloured pages. Kirsten beckoned for him to sit on her lap. Come on, mum wont mind. Ill read it to you.

Delighted, the little boy took the book with both hands and clambered onto the seat next to Kirsty.

As she opened the cover of the book smells of sweet no tears shampoo mixed with baby powder and left over yeasty vegemite spread wafted over her. The infant was a pleasant distraction from her otherwise uneventful trip. She never tired of watching the ocean as it pounded down on the sand, white foam beating layers from the rocks around the coast, but there was only so much you could see in four hours.

The young boys name was Toby, and he sat with Kirsty for the next hour while his mother slumbered behind them. Three books later, and after a one sided conversation about the seals on the rocks down below as the train softly continued its rhythmic strum on the endless tracks, his mother woke. The train blew its whistle as they crossed a large rail bridge. Toby wriggled with joy against Kirstens legs as he peered down through the window. His breath created little circles of steam on the glass, which he promptly smeared into tracks with one finger.

There you are Toby. His mother appeared from behind them, looking very tired, and Kirsten smiled at the heavily pregnant woman. I told you to sit quietly and not bother anyone while mummy had a sleep.

Oh, hes no bother. Kirsten held the boys arm as he scrambled down from the seat and joined his mother once more. We were reading books werent we Toby? Its my fault. You looked like you could do with a rest and we were both so bored.