Chapter one
Farmland, New Zealand
Jessie sat on the bank of the stream with her feet dangling in the cool water. The old willow tree offered welcome shade from the intense summer heat. Minnows were darting back and forth in the clear water as it tumbled on its downward journey. Apart from the occasional drone of a bumblebee everything was quiet. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. Leaning back against the tree trunk, she perused the pastoral scene in front of her. This superb view of the vast rolling plains of the Southland countryside never failed to captivate her.
Away in the distance just on the horizon, could be seen majestic mountains. Jessie shaded her eyes from the sun as she breathed deeply and enjoyed the view. On the other side of the stream two cows were sitting in the shade, gently chewing their cud. In the next paddock the men were busy tying the sheaves of wheat. They had worked since early morning and now they were justifiably feeling weary. Jessie had taken them their afternoon tea and now she was enjoying a few minutes respite, until it was time to return to the house.
She wriggled her toes over the smooth stones and bent down to scoop up a hand full of the cool water. This she splashed over her face and around her neck. During the winter she had complained of the cold, but now in the midst of the summer heat she would give anything for a cool day. Scolding herself for her complaining attitude, she decided it was time to return home. Putting on her sandals she started on her weary way home.
She walked along the stream knowing the men would not be able to see her. She did not want them to see her. This was not entirely true. It was not all the men that she did not want to see her. It was just the one man, Paul, her husband. Apart from his brother, Mark, the rest of the men were all local farmers, who had come for the day to help with the harvesting. Although they could not see her she could see the two brothers clearly. They were both tall, well over six feet. Their height was the only thing that they had in common. Mark had black hair and olive coloured features. His personality was as black as his looks. He hardly ever smiled, though, when he did his whole countenance changed. He worked long and hard without complaint, seemingly without the need of company. Jessie had been on the farm for fifteen years now and, yet she had never known Mark to make friends with anyone. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, she supposed. When she had first come to the adjoining farm with her parents, she had thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Paul on the other hand had not attracted her at all in the beginning. He was fair with pale blue eyes. At the start she had thought his eyes attractive, but now, she knew that those pale eyes were cold eyes. In public he displayed a jovial outgoing personality but in private, as Jessie well knew to her detriment, it was anything but jovial.
She had been only sixteen when her father had bought the neighbouring property. It had excited her having these two young men right next door. Their parents had both been killed in a motor accident. Now they had lived alone in a huge mausoleum of a house. At first she had watched from a distance as the two young men went about their various farm chores. She had thought Mark intriguing, with his sullen black looks. However it was Paul with his laughter and sense of fun that had won her affection. Her mother had repeatedly warned her. ‘Watch that one; he is only after one thing my girl. Once he gets it he will not want to know you.’ Oh, how she wished she had listened to her mother. Like most young girls of sixteen, she thought she knew it all. How could a person the age of her mother ever know what it was like be a young woman of sixteen and in love?
At first he had been very charming, and had told her that she was attractive. This had appealed to her sense of vanity, with the result she would spend hours brushing and styling her long fair hair. Her mirror confirmed that she was pretty, not beautiful, but certainly attractive. She always felt her nose was too big. Now if it were only the size of her nose that she had to worry about, her life would be wonderful she thought. In those early years Paul had pursued her relentlessly. Mistakenly she thought it was because he found her attractive. Despite the strict confines placed upon her by her parents, she had become adept at finding ways to meet him. She would lie awake at night waiting until the house became quiet, and everyone was asleep, before she would quietly push open her window, and escape. It was difficult to leave the farmyard without the knowledge of the dogs. It only took one sound to alert them and, they would begin barking. It had taken some cunning to work her way around that obstacle. By volunteering to feed the dogs at night, she could easily secrete away some dog biscuits that she could use to good effect later to keep them quiet. Once pacified with a biscuit they were quiet, allowing her to escape. She would meet Paul at the halfway mark between the two properties. An old wooden bridge provided shelter, and a secret place to meet.
They had been meeting like this for about six months when a cold dread could be felt in the bottom of her stomach. She had not given any thought to the consequences of their love-making. Of course the inevitable had happened and she had become pregnant. She felt absolutely terrified, and sick with dread, when she became aware of her condition. She was too frightened even to tell Paul. Looking back now she knew she felt scared because she had already come to realize that he had used her for his satisfaction, and nothing more. As soon as he had taken what he wanted from her, he lost interest and displayed little affection. Her mother had been right; he had only wanted one thing and had got it, with the result of her becoming pregnant.
The day her parents found out, all hell had broken loose. Her father had ranted and raved, for what seemed like hours, about the ‘sins of the flesh’. Meanwhile her mother had cried and, told her endlessly what a stupid foolish girl she had been. Her two older brothers’ had felt sorry, but there was little that they could do for her. In the end her father had bundled her into the car and, driven them both up the road to face Paul. He, at first, denied the child was his. She had suspected that he might react in such a fashion. Even so it hurt her to hear him say it, after all the endearing things he had spoken to seduce her. She had stood beside her father frightened and ashamed.
The term shot-gun wedding certainly applied to her marriage. A week following her shock announcement to her parents, they had driven her to the nearby town of Winton where she had committed her life to Paul. There had been no beautiful white frock, only her best suit that was already unfashionable. The journey there had been just appalling. She had driven with her parents, and they had spoken not a word to her, or each other, for the entire journey.
On February the 7th 1950 she had entered the registry office a girl named Jessie Brown and, had come out barely a half hour later as a woman called Jessie Drury. In that half hour she had grown up and taken on life, with all of its responsibilities. The drive home had been just as miserable. Paul had driven with every feature of his face telling her that he had not wanted to marry her. She had tried to speak, but his response was barely audible grunts. When they had arrived home he had gone upstairs to change, and then given instructions about the evening meal before he had gone outside. He had left her standing in the huge two-story house, alone on her wedding day. She had hated the house. Every room was large and contained little furniture. In the winter it was unbearably cold. Even in the summer with the sunlight streaming in, it still managed to look cheerless.
The first few months of her marriage she had felt completely desolate. There was no warmth or kindness from Paul. He made it perfectly obvious, that he had not wished to become married. Mark was uncommunicative and just ignored her. He only came in for his evening meal and that was all she ever saw of him. The one glimmer of hope she had during this time was the thought of the arrival of the baby. The idea of someone to love and cuddle managed to keep her from going insane. However that hope was a short-lived one. Steven gave every appearance of resenting her, right from the day he was born. He had obstinately refused to take the breast and, she had reluctantly bottle-fed him. It was as if he wanted no part of her. As he grew up he had steadfastly refused kisses and cuddles from his mother. Even as a toddler when he had fallen over and grazed his knee, he would obstinately refuse any affection from her. In the end she had to admit, that she did not like her son very much. He was almost fifteen now and she liked him even less. He had grown arrogant and undisciplined. His pale blue eyes held the same coldness of those of his father. There was little or