'Angels Coming	Chapter < two > of four sample chapters
Down'	by Myra Howerd, Sep 1989
	Copywrite held by Claudia Klaus, P.O. Box 5102, Mackay M.C., QLD 4741, Australia

Penny Hurst

I wonder what this new housekeeper will be like. The last one was fat with bad teeth and dandruff. She used to yell at us kids most of the time although maybe she did have good reason occasionally when Gerry did something awful to her, like leaving frogs in her bed.

Gerry's my brother. He's only one year younger but I hate him most of the time while he treats me as if I were a mentally retarded child. You'd think that a boy who's eleven, nearly twelve, would've grown out of such puerile attitudes by now but I don't expect him to grow up, ever.

That's why I'm lying up here on the grassy bank above the station parking lot right now. I'm fed up with their childish tricks. When Dad returns I'm going to tell on him! Him and that boy Michael Donaghue!

This really is a wild place. Above me I can hear the moan of the wind through the aerial wires that stretch from mast to mast, and the long grass leans constantly even as it ripples. It's summer now but here on the Point I still have to wear a windcheater. Down in the Bay it's much warmer even though that's only about two or three kilometers away. Mr Donaghue... Mike's father... explained it to me once.

"It's the barrier effect of the Point, Penny. The wind strikes this coastal ridge and shoots upward into the main weather pattern, interrupting it and punching through any cloud cover. That means that behind the Point it's often warmer and even sunny while here on the Cape itself conditions are usually miserable with an icy wind straight off the south pole."

I didn't understand it all then, but I think I got the main idea, that Fergusson Bay is warm because of Fergusson Point.

Mr Donaghue is the last weatherman here and even he would be recalled if it wasn't for the fact that the new automatic equipment is constantly breaking down. Dad says that men are always better weathervanes than machines, anyway, and even Frank Prentice prefers to call him up when he really needs to know.

I've always liked this place and wish I could live here always, but I know quite well that isn't possible.

We've been here over four years now, ever since Mum died. Dad sort of withdrew from us then, at least for a while, and it was months after the shift before we saw him smile again. It seems so long ago now and I can't even remember what our house in Timaru looked like any more, which is probably just as well, at least according to Aunt Emily. She says that you can't keep on living in the past, and she should know. She's not really my aunt, of course, but all us kids call her that when we go down to the Bay.

Dad's very late in getting back from the City today. He should have been here at least fifteen minutes ago now, especially as he's travelling in Wayne Murray's helicopter.

"It's far quicker this way, Penny," I remember him saying. "The road's still damaged by that last big storm and besides, there must be some perks to being resident Conservation Officer in a place as remote as this. Wayne has promised us half-price because he has to take the machine in for a hundred hour check anyway, so we should be back at about three in the afternoon."

Wayne Murray is the operator and part owner of the big five-bladed helicopter that he usually keeps up here at the lighthouse. I don't like him much, his eyes stay cold even when he smiles, and he looks at me kind of funny sometimes.

Ever since we've been at Fergusson Point we've had lots of housegirls, housemaids, housekeepers, whatever you want to call them. They usually last only a few weeks before giving up under the strain of coping with this place, or they try to latch onto Dad, but he's pretty smart even if he seems a bit slow-moving and those ones soon learn we're a complete family that doesn't need or want any interference from outsiders.

But of course we do need the outside world, really. We need food to be brought in, and fuel, and of course us kids have to have schooling. Even Gerry admits that although he hates the regular green correspondence packets with as much fervour as me.

He'd rather play with his computer or his radios. Dad bought him a computer for his last birthday and for nearly a month we heard virtually nothing from him but computerese. Even Michael couldn't pry him loose to go fishing or hunting, activities he usually prefers.

Since then he's reverted to his usual nasty self and his first victim was the housekeeper. I'm almost ashamed to admit I got considerable satisfaction of my own out of the shrieks that signalled the end of that particular housekeeper's stay.

The helicopter still hadn't come when I saw Fred Holloway climbing painfully up the south ridge towards the station, stopping often to rest. His dog Francis patiently waited each time the old man paused to sit and catch his breath, having done the very same thing countless times before.

When he got nearer I could see that Fred carried an enormous fish in one hand and his rod and tackle in the other. No wonder he had to rest!

I like Fred but Gerry and Michael call him a dirty old man. It's true enough that he's often dirty, and that he smells of old tobacco and longjohns, but he always smiles at me whenever we meet and says something nice.

He lives down in the bay with Aunt Emily and his two sons, but doesn't seem to do anything except fish. I've seen him and his dog way down the beach, lots and lots of times, and when you meet him there he's just as proper and polite, although his language can be a bit strong sometimes. He calls me 'little lady', even though I'm hardly old enough to be a lady!

He doesn't call Susan that. Mostly he just scowls at her but that might be because she, Michael and Gerry rob his orchard whenever they can. She lives virtually next door to Fred's rambling old house.

His two sons are quite different. I like Sonny best, he's so strong he can carry both Susan and I at the same time, and he's got a big black beard, and sleepy brown eyes that sort of melt when he laughs, a great big bellow that shakes his whole body.

Johnny's big too, but he treats us kids differently, as if he couldn't be bothered. He and Wayne Murray are friends which automatically makes him suspect in my eyes. It's hard to believe that such a small man as Fred could be the father of men so big.

This time I stayed out of sight, watching him carry the big pink fish up over the lip of the flattened carpark area and on down past our house until he was a tiny doll figure way down the track on the opposite side of the hill.

Dad once told me that Fred had been in jail.

"He's a real character, Penny," he said. "Been all around the coast for years and over to the Chathams when the crayfish boom was on. Him and another fellow, I forget his name now. Good lord, he was old then, he must be at least seventy now..."

At last I heard the helicopter and raised my head to look over the next ridge, back towards the dark hills that lie between Fergusson Point and civilisation. Sure enough, there it was, a bright orange speck rapidly growing into the big Hughes that finally dropped tiredly onto the reserved patch of grass at the far end of the lot.

I saw Gerry and Michael come out of our house to watch, for this great howling machine was still a novelty to all of us even after six months. Recently Wayne had taken to using the nearly deserted station as a base because of the road and the ease of refuelling.

We still watched enviously every time he took off, for we kids seldom ever got a ride. That's one of the reasons I refuse to think of him as 'Mr Murray' even though Dad frowns on us calling grownups by first names.

As the rotors slowed to idle I saw the doors open and Dad got out of the front and went around to the rear door on the other side to open it, letting our latest housekeeper climb down and out onto the gravelly ground.

I was stunned when a figure small enough to be a child came into view and walked carefully away from the noise. Wayne always leaves the motor run for some time before he turns it off, so there wouldn't be any chance of speech down there.

It was several minutes before the turbine abruptly wound down and the big rotors began to slow. Dad returned to the craft to pull out suitcases and his briefcase, then turned to go towards the house. I still couldn't believe that this figure was our housekeeper and tutor-to-be, so I abandoned my position on the windblown bank and ran down the path to our house, passing the oily stain of the diesel plant exhaust and leaping over the yawning service pit for the once numerous departmental cars.

By the time I reached the porch they were already inside and I ran the last few steps to fling the door open, assisted by a sudden gust of wind. I managed to slam it behind me again and said 'Sorry!' a little breathlessly to the little group in the kitchen.

Our house is like that. Our 'front door' opens onto a windswept verandah projecting out above the sudden slope down to the rocks hundreds of feet below, so everyone finds it's easier to enter by the side door which of course opens onto the kitchen, a fact the last housekeeper had regularly reminded me about.

Facing me was a very small figure with tightly bound hair and big heavy rimmed glasses, wearing a bulky coat that made her look even smaller. I couldn't believe it, she was only as tall as me, although I'm tall for thirteen according to Aunt Emily.

"Penny, this is Nicole, she's going to be our new housekeeper and tutor to the five of you here on the station."

I hesitated, then stepped forward to extend my hand. She eyed me gravely and her grasp was incredibly light.

The boys were introduced next, and already I could see Gerry's mind plotting the first assault. Dad looked on with an amused expression on his face, obviously enjoying our surprise and no doubt recognising the expression Gerry wore. Shortly afterwards I took her along to what was to be her room, the abode of countless visitors and housekeepers since we'd moved here. It was on the corner of the house diagonally opposite the carpark, jutting out like the verandah it adjoined. The wind always moaned particularly loudly here.

"At least you've got a good view," I said, going to the big windows that opened out on space. "When it's clear you can see right across the bay."

"It's not very impressive right now, is it?" she commented, coming over to stand beside me and holding the edge of the curtain back. Her voice was soft, very musical, and there was a slight accent. I turned to stare frankly at her, and she returned my gaze steadily, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"I suppose you don't think I'm your ideal of a housekeeper, Penny? You're probably more used to middle aged hausfraus who boss you around."

I felt myself blush, hating it because it makes my freckles stand out.

"Well, the last lady was fat and forty, I just didn't expect someone so young."

She turned and looked out again at the grey of racing clouds, fingering her big glasses.

"In Europe there are many of us who are young. Au pair girls they're called, but it took a lot to convince your father of it. He told the agent twice that I wasn't suitable." I saw her nibble her bottom lip, then Dad was bringing in the bags, smiling at both of us.

"Nobody else would come," he explained, "so unless you want to put up with my cooking, Nicole is it!"

I shuddered. Dad has many endearing qualities but cooking isn't one of them. Gerry and I usually take turns when we're between help. He's surprisingly good at it, for a boy. Nicole turned and began to open one of her two suitcases.

"Very well, I'll change now and then Penny can show me around the house, then help me organise the kitchen. You can begin by showing me the bathroom, Penny."

I was a little taken aback by her sudden change of tone, but catching Dad's eye as he backed carefully out the door I found myself jerking into action.

"Umm, yes, the bathroom's down the hall here. That bedroom's mine, and that's Gerry's. Dad has the main one past the toilet... over there... and there's one more spare one downstairs under the overhang, a sort of add-on."

She nodded her thanks and ducked into the bathroom, leaving me to wander back to the sitting room and two boys arguing in fierce whispers. They froze when I came in then Gerry reluctantly asked me a question.

"Pen, what colour eyes does she have, grey or green?"

I had to think for a moment.

"I don't really know, those glasses sort of hide them. I'll guess they're blue, though."

He snorted. "You're a lot of help! Michael swears they're green. Hey, isn't she short... how old do you think she is?"

Before I had time to make a guess the kitchen door opened again to admit Dad and a mountain of groceries.

"Nicole is twenty according to her papers," he informed us, dumping his load on the bench. "Before you ask I'll tell you, she's French and her full name is Nicole Perrier. She came to New Zealand on a working holiday and she's run out of money, hence this job.

Now you know nearly as much about her as I do. Gerry and Michael, would you get the rest of the groceries, please. What time is it? Half past three... Penny, I want you to stick with this girl for the rest of the day, help her prepare dinner and get her used to the place. After dinner I want you and Gerry to finish your correspondence assignments while I talk with Nicole."

"Aw, Dad..." Gerry started, his face beginning to wrinkle in disgust, but he broke off to follow Michael out to get the rest of the goods when he saw the subject of our discussion re-enter the room. I spent the next few hours getting to know her and learned that she might be young compared with the other housekeepers we'd had but she knew very well what she was about. Now that I knew she was a foreigner the trace of accent in her speech seemed quaint rather than odd and when she cluck-clucked to herself over the condition of the oven or gasped a 'merde!' when she touched the hot kettle I began to feel much more comfortable with her.

Soon I was telling her all about our life here at the end of the world, as Aunt Emily always called it, and all about the people, too.

She listened with one ear while she prepared a roast dinner with a degree of efficiency and speed that impressed me. In the end I perched on the stool and watched, occasionally telling her where things were rather than get in her way. There's only room for one cook at a time in a kitchen.

Later we sat at the table with a cup of tea each and I had to describe our school programme.

"You see," she said, "I am expected to oversee your studies as well. Your father, he says you do things with the correspondence but this I am not familiar with. In my country I have not heard of this." She fingered the big glasses again, briefly lifting them away and I was startled to realise that her eyes were indeed blue, a penetrating clear azure that the glasses managed to turn into a nondescript washed out grey. I thought it was such a shame that she had to wear them.

I shrugged to her question.

"There's no school out here so we have to do it by mail. We get big packets of stuff to do and we have to send them back the next week. Dad makes us do something every day, when he's here, anyway."

"He goes away often then?"

"Oh, not really. He's a sort of warden for the National Park over there and also does the fisheries work... anything official he seems to do and that takes up a lot of time."

"In this weather? Does he fly around in this?"

"Oh, he doesn't always fly, that's too expensive! No, we have a launch down in the bay and he often goes in that."

I pointed at the microphone stand on the sideboard.

"We have a CB to talk to him with here and Mr Donaghue has a bigger radio as well."

She looked at me blankly.

"CB ? What is that?"

"Oh, Citizen Band radio. All the boats here have them and when us kids go into the bush we're supposed to take one with us too. It's switched on at the moment, but it's quiet because nobody's using it at present."

By the time I finished my explanation the roast had to be checked again, and afterwards she began to hunt through the cupboards. Soon we were busy making a desert and I realised that she was very efficient indeed. Gerry once told me on a fit of brotherly concern that a good cook is measured by the amount of dishes left behind after preparations, and that on this basis I scored minus!

Of course that was because he had to do the washing up, although I got his point and made an effort after that, but still managed to dirty great heaps of pots and bowls. Nicole had left almost nothing to wash, and then it seemed silly not to clean these few items and put them away while we waited.

"What do you do with yourselves here then, Penny? You can't stay inside all the time, and there must be better days, with sunny weather."

"Oh, we go down the bay, sometimes down the beach just past the inlet, or we clamber down the other side to the little beaches there. On that side there's penguins and seals and green-eyed shags... or sometimes we take the horses and ride way up the inlet to the beginning of the proper mountains and explore."

"Horses? You have horses? I've never been on a horse."

"You haven't? Don't you have horses in France?"

She paused and looked out the window for a second, then back at me.

"No, there aren't any horses where I come from," she said, with a funny expression in her eyes. "Do you think you could teach me?"

"Oh yes! It's lots of fun, even the boys come horseback riding. Actually, they're not our horses, they belong to Aunt Emily down in the Bay but she lets us catch them and go for rides. They're quite old, really, and very quiet. You see, you'll like them."

"We'll see, I think I'd like the opportunity to do that. What about swimming, do you ever do that?"

"Not much, the water's very cold, both in the sea and in the mountain streams. It makes you gasp and come out with goosebumps all over! There is one place though..."

I lowered my voice, glancing around to see if the others were anywhere about, but Dad had gone out again and Gerry was in his room with Michael playing with the computer, no doubt.

"There's a marvellous place way up the valley at the head of the bay, right up in the bush. It's a hot spring and Susan... she's my best friend here... and I sometimes ride up there and just lie in the water. It's funny, there's one pool that's red hot on one side and ice cold on the other, that's our favourite. We haven't told anyone about it, it's our own secret place."

Nicole laughed, a musical chuckle that tinkled around the room.

"I somehow doubt it's as big a secret as you'd like to think, but I would like to see it one day. What's the time?" She glanced at her wristwatch and then at the oven. "What time do you have dinner here at Fergusson point, Penny?"

"Oh, about six o'clock, it depends a lot on Dad and if he's back. Right now I think he's over with Mr Donaghue and we can call him when we're ready. Michael's mum usually calls him home about then, anyway."

"Michael lives here, does he... how many people are there on the station, anyway?"

"Just the three families and Wayne Murray. He's the helicopter pilot, you've already met him, then there's the Masters. Mr Masters works for the County Council and only lives up here because there's no other spare housing. He drives the grader and has to fix the road up all the time."

"His wife's Julie, she's really nice, but she's got a baby and another little boy only a year old, so she's always in the house. They haven't been here long."

"What about the Donaghues... that is how you say it, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right. Mr Donaghue is the weatherman here. He's really the only one who's officially supposed to be on the station now. Once there were five families here, all looking after the light and sending weather reports in, but now the light's automatic and they're trying to make the weather readings that way too, only they keep on having trouble with the instruments."

"So they stay on for the meantime?"

"Yes, it's been going on now for over a year since the time they were supposed to leave. Michael's mother is nice, you'll like her. She'll probably come over to meet you later on, I saw her go over to the Master's just before you arrived."

We were still in the kitchen, and Nicole would regularly check the roast through the oven window. It was nearly half past six now and so she began to look around for the table things.

"I'll do that, Nicole." I slid off my stool and went to the right cupboard and began to get the plates.

"It is alright to call you that, isn't it?" I was suddenly acutely conscious of my age, but she smiled at me.

"Of course! But I must warn you, it won't make me any softer when it comes to schoolwork!"

Just then the door opened briefly to admit a blast of icy air and Michael's mother before being quickly closed again. She was breathless from the constant wind and the dash across from their house.

"Hello! Is Michael in here?" I nodded.

"Yes, they're down playing with the computer or something in Gerry's room. Mrs Donaghue, this is Nicole Perrier. She's our new housekeeper."

She turned and appraised the small figure now rising from the oven and I was pleased to see surprise on her face. Nicole was as different from Mrs Humphries, our last housekeeper, as you could ever get.

"Oh, hello, Nicole. My, but you're a young thing, you hardly look much older that Penny here!"

Nicole smiled and extended her hand with a simple grace that I wished I could have, and I was suddenly aware of her accent again as she responded.

"Nor am I much taller either. It's been a difficulty for me all my life, nobody takes me seriously!"

Mrs Donaghue isn't really all that much taller than either of us, but she's a lot bigger. She always tells me to call her Mary but somehow I've never quite got the courage up enough to do so. She always reminds me of a picture I once saw in the 'National Geographic' of an Eskimo, a round chubby smiling face framed by curly brown hair and a passion for babies. I loathe babies, they always have to be changed or they cry incessantly, and there's always that terrible business of warming bottles. Long ago I decided that infants are something to avoid wherever possible, but for Mary Donaghue babies were marvellous.

I often wondered why she never had any more if she liked them so much...

I listened to her and Nicole chatting away and then ducked down to Gerry's room and knocked on the door. I used to go straight in, but I've found lately that it's a good idea to knock and then I can expect the same courtesy in my own room.

"Michael? Your mum's here, and Gerry, it's nearly time for dinner."

There was a muffled 'OK' partly obliterated by a chorus of 'beep's from the computer and I returned to the kitchen. Mary and Nicole were still talking, or more accurately Mary was still grilling Nicole on her background and Nicole's accent was thickening by the minute.

"I told the boys, Mary, they'll be out in a minute."

There, I'd said it at last. She turned and Nicole escaped to the oven with a grateful glance to me, taking the big mittens and preparing to remove the roasting tray.

"Thanks, Penny. Why don't you and Nicole come over later on? We could play some five-hundred, there's enough people. Wayne's in for tea and that would make four of us, you know George won't play."

I shuddered inside at the thought of being partnered by Wayne Murray. It's not that he ever does anything exactly wrong, it's just that he's... sort of cold and intense at the same time. He gives me the creeps.

"I don't know if we can, Mary. Dad wants us to go over our assignments with Nicole and show her what we're up to. I think he was going to ask Michael to come over as well, since she'll be teaching him too."

"That's a very good idea," she said firmly, and I caught an anguished look on the boys' faces as they came into the kitchen just in time to hear this last comment.

"Perhaps another time then. Come on, Michael. Nice meeting you, Nicole." And she breezed out the door as she had come in, ushering Michael ahead of her.

While Nicole and I made the final preparations Gerry went and got Dad from the Master's and in a few minutes we were all sitting down to the meal. There wasn't much said for a while, our dinner table is usually a quiet place and we like it that way. I was amused to note that now that Mary was gone Nicole's accent had improved markedly and there was barely a hint of her European background, not that she said much. It was Dad who renewed his remarks about the assignments as we neared the end of it.

"Gerry, I hope you haven't forgotten that I want you doing schoolwork this evening, not playing with that computer or with the radio."

"No, Dad, how could I forget," and he looked a little sulky. "Pen told Mary that you expected Michael over as well. She said you wanted Nicole to check the assignments! She fibbed, Dad, just because she didn't want to play cards with Smoothy Murray!"

I felt myself flushing red with mortification and anger, wishing I could smear the little ratfink into his dinner plate, but before I could actually voice my feelings Nicole cut in.

"Yes, Mr Hurst, we were talking about it earlier. It's an excellent idea. I only wish the other children were able to come as well, but perhaps I can get to see them tomorrow." She looked over at me with such an open and innocent face that I felt my mouth snap shut, just like a goldfish.

"Good, then that's settled!" Dad grunted, and it was Gerry's turn to play goldfish. Serve him right, the worm!

Later on we discovered that this girl was quite serious about the whole thing. When Michael had finally arrived with his own books and we were all spread out around the cleared dinner table Nicole came around each of us in turn and discussed the work.

In my turn I had to explain the English lesson to her and try to outline what I'd done before. She sat beside me and we communicated in a murmur while the other two struggled with their work. Michael has this idiotic habit of sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he works, twisting it from side to side as he laboriously writes.

He's ten, nearly eleven, a stocky boy with his mother's curly brown hair and his father's steel grey eyes. There's been a state of war between Michael and I ever since we arrived here on the station. I don't think it's really me he dislikes so much, for he's just as mean to Susan who's nearly the same age as him. I think he's just afraid of girls.

Nicole gave him special treatment right from the start. I overheard snatches of their conversation from across the table, and I was surprised to hear them discussing science.

"...we could make them right here if you want, Michael," she was saying. "All we need is a glass jar and some bluestone. Is there anyone around here who has an orchard? They should have some...."

Later on when we were having a hot chocolate before going to bed I asked her about it and she laughed.

"Bluestone? Oh, that's for making crystals, Penny. Michael's assignment mentioned them and he was complaining that it was no use if he couldn't do the things that were described."

I wasn't much wiser, but I knew I'd get to find out in the end, so I didn't press it. Soon she was asking about the other children, and I had to tell her about Susan Prentice, my best friend, and about her sister Geraldine.

"Geraldine's only four, nearly five now. She was only a baby when we first came to Fergusson Point, but now she needs schooling. Susan and me, we get tired of her chasing us around everywhere. She's too small to look after herself and too big to keep at home all the time."

"'Susan and I'" Nicole corrected. "Perhaps you had better take me down there tomorrow to meet the family... Prentice, you said?"

"Yes. Susan's Dad's a fisherman, he owns the 'Geraldine' and mostly does longlining. He has another man crewing for him at the moment so I doubt that we'll find him home. He used to go out with Graham Marshall, but... well, that's another story." I caught Dad's eye and hurriedly changed the subject, draining my mug and taking it to the sink for rinsing.

"I think I'll go to bed now. See you in the morning," and I scuttled into the bathroom to brush my teeth, then carefully inspected my bed before slipping between the cool sheets. Before I drifted off to sleep I kept remembering how awful those glasses Nicole wore were, and how pretty her eyes would be otherwise.

Really, if she took a little more care and relaxed a bit she'd be quite pretty...

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