Riley's New Life

Chapter 1

One Monday evening, in a quiet south-west London pub, a woman, having a gin and tonic 'night cap', watched a pleasant looking guy approach her table. He asked politely with an accent Riley Ranfurly (32), couldn't quite identify, "Is this chair taken?"

It was, because no one was sitting on it or the other five vacant chairs around the table.

Riley, surprised by such a stupid question, blurted no without thinking, and the smart-arse sat beside her without spilling beer and gave her a stunning smile and said, "As the English say, it's an arsehole of a day, weather-wise."

Never in her life had Riley heard English weather described using the rude term 'arsehole'. Releasing her clenched teeth, she snapped one didn't describe English weather in that way and besides, it was rather a settled day for that time of year.

He laughed and said teasingly, "Don't get your britches in a knot. I was only attempting to be friendly."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips appeared to thin, marring her pretty face.

"How dare you refer to my clothing."

"Huh?" he said as if caught on the hop but recovered quickly.

"You're not wearing britches in the true sense of the word. Under that dress you'll only be wearing knickers, presumably."

She found herself apologising, while wondering why they were discussing her clothing when ignoring his. For goodness sake, he was wearing shorts and it was cold outside and not all of the top buttons on his shirt weren't done up. Omigod, what a chest.

The guy introduced himself as Tom Parkes from New Zealand and asked why had she stopped talking mid-sentence and, exaggerating, asked why did she include an apology in practically every sentence.

She stared at him, fascinated and blurted, "I really have no idea. Are you attempting to pick me up?"

He bared his teeth in a big smile, and so began an extremely interesting four years of her life.

That night they engaged in niceties and sex as if they really meant it and two weeks later, Tom Parkes returned home, Riley having enthusiastically cooperated in her farewell to him by placing a hand over her heart and swearing she would resign from her teaching job and apply under temporary New Zealand immigration special easement for one of the two vacant teaching positions at the secondary school twenty miles (32 miles actually) from his home.

That arrangement was completed satisfactorily and Riley spent almost four happy years with her darling before he was tragically killed on his parent's farm. The young couple lived in a contract milkers' cottage before the property was converted fully to farming beef cattle, to escape the hostility of his mother, who believed Riley was sentencing her son to damnation for forcing him to live with her 'in sin'.

Forcing Tom to live with her? Ha, Riley laughed hollowly when Tom had delivered the news of their pending eviction from the family farmhouse after only their first night of cohabiting.

Riley attended the burial of the man she'd been living with for almost four years, her grief-stricken face devoid of tears. The mourning parents, the Parkes, continued to reject her.

Tom was gone and Riley was aware that no flow of tears and wailing could bring him back.

Eight days earlier, he had been an hour overdue returning home and she went over to the back of farm on her hand-down farm motorbike and found him sprawled on the tractor seat and wedged in, with his skull shattered, part of a broken chain embedded in crushed bone.

Riley held Tom's body in her arms for more than an hour, weeping and wailing in absolute privacy and then returned to report her gruesome finding to his parents.

Tears flowing, Mr Parkes called the police.

He came from the phone sobbing and Riley said, "Tom urged you three times to my knowledge to buy a stronger chain to replace the old chain being used to haul stumps from the ground after recent tree-felling on the southern boundary."

"Shut your mouth, you whore. Say another word about that and I'll knife you," yelled Tom's distraught mother.

Riley fled to the cottage and, greatly distressed, called her parents 140 miles away at the hotel in Auckland where they had arrived from England the previous day to visit their daughter and begin a two-week holiday tour.

At the funeral, Riley suffered further humiliation at the conclusion of the church service when Mrs Parkes stood and, pointing to Riley, cried: "We don't want that Scarlet Woman at the burial of our son."

Riley's mother Trish, already upset by the Parkes' appalling treatment of her daughter following Tom's death, leaped from her front pew and struck Mrs Ranfurly down with a heavy blow.

Quick intervention by two burly farmers prevented a possible wider skirmish from developing and led the upset Ranfurly's from the church. Riley and her parents immediately left for Auckland, the two women hugging in the back of the rented Mercedes SUV.

When Tom's assets were being prepared for filing for Probate, it was found there appeared to be little of value in Tom's possessions until his father cried, "Where is the $887,700 from his late grandfather that I unsuccessfully took legal action to have the Court overturn that bequest?"

The deceased's lawyer and the Parkes' lawyer conferred and agreed from information before them, the deceased had bequeathed that money and all earnings from it to Miss Ranfurly in the event of his death. As the Will appeared totally in order in making that bequest, and as his de facto partner had clearly continued uninterrupted to exceed the statutory minimum of three years living in that relationship, it appeared that inheritance would most likely be incontestable.

Almost four months later, everything was settled.

* * *

Early February, the last month of summer in New Zealand, Riley returned to that country where she'd originally obtained citizenship after completing minimum residency requirements under special immigration easement for incoming school teachers recruited in the UK to assist relieving a secondary school teacher shortage, especially in rural districts.

The $887,718 that she'd inherited was spread in term investments at three banks under different ownerships, ready for use if she decided to settle permanently in New Zealand or England.

While in England, she had resigned from her New Zealand school where she had taught for more than three years and recently had successfully applied to teach at another school on New Zealand's North Island east coast, more than 140 miles across rugged country from her previous school as the crow flies, but non-direct route on highways skirting rugged mountainous ranges added another 75 miles of road travel.

Her new job was at a girls' secondary school on its own working farm situated on the plains of Hawkes Bay, a major fruit-growing, wine-making and fattening livestock region. The school was about 10 miles from a village, or what New Zealanders called a small rural servicing town.

Riley had purchased a 3-Series BMW car online from England from a used car dealer in the city of Napier. It had been professionally serviced since new by its previously owners, a highly regarded national rental vehicle company. From photos and a film-clip, Riley decided she liked everything about the vehicle apart from its brown (bronze) colour.

The managing-director of the Napier re-sale company gave Riley a good price to repaint the exterior of the vehicle back, as he wanted to move that vehicle. He was aware that some potential buys had been put off by the bronze metallic colour.

Riley was keen to strike a good deal.

"My offer is this, I'll pay your asking price if the repaint, expertly done, is free and includes the clearcoat. I'll pay in advance into your company's or your lawyers trust account."

The dealer, Jay Jenkins said, "You are asking for too much, Riley."

"I can only ask and will pay in New Zealand dollars, and remember I'm somewhat relying on your integrity when I'm speaking from Kent, England. Yield, tough guy."

"Why?"

"Because that car appeals to me on those terms, and I'll move it off the yard for you where it has been sitting for five months."

"For a school-teacher, I'm surprised you can be tough at bargaining."

"Teacher have come a long way as professionals since you were at school, Jay."

"My mum was a schoolteacher.

"Mine still is, Jay."

"Okay, what the hell. It's a deal. I'll email your details plus my lawyer's address. Send the full amount that I invoice you, please."

"Thanks Jay. Perhaps I'll buy its replacement from you one day. I'll have coffee with you when I arrive to pick up the vehicle. You are invited to use the vehicle for a week including the weekend to make sure everything is perfect for me. I can be rather fussy and that testing will ensure I don't need to drive back to get niggly little things done to it."

"Gee, that's smart. You must be a schoolteacher."

"Bye Jay," Riley giggled, attempting to ensure Jay remained on her side.

Almost three weeks later, Riley stood looking at her new (second-hand) car and gawked, before swinging around to hug the 70-year-old Jay, majority owner of the car yard.

"Why the fuss?" he protested.

She released him and said, "Because, your beautiful man, my car is even better that I expected. It looks straight off the showroom floor."

Grinning, Jay yelled, "Evacuation!" and all eleven of the firm's employees stopped what they were doing, obviously rehearsed, and turned out from the showroom/sales department, workshop and admin department of the small firm and gathered in a semi-circle behind Jay and Riley.

A photographer took several shots of them and the one of the shots showing Riley clinging to Jay looking at the camera and smiling hugely, would be used occasionally in advertising promotion of the company claiming to be top in satisfying customers.

Only when that finished, did Riley noticed a movie cameraman in the background remove his camera from a tripod and walked towards her lugging the large camera with his assistant walking beside him.

The 'assistant' said to Riley, "Hi, I'm Maybell Jennings and this is my stringer cameraman Bill Gunderson. I'm the residential reporter in this region for national TV station TV1 and I'm also a client of Jay's. May we interview you?"

"Yes, if you must but only if Jay is included."

"That goes without says, um Miss..."

"Miss Ranfurly, refer to that once and then call me Riley."

As the shoulder camera began rolling, Maybell introduced herself and began her interview.

"Jay Jenkins, what was so interesting about Miss Riley Ranfurly, who invited me to call her Riley on air, about buying a car from your yard?"

"She called me and completed the transaction from Kent, England."

"Omigod, she was brave."

"Yeah, I suppose so, but in dealing with her so far away, I got thinking how would my granddaughter who is soon to leave for England fare if she attempted to buy a car online from a dealership in London. I thought would she have the guts to risk it. Then I thought I was talking to this babe, or she sounded like one, and she was putting her faith in my hands. I said to myself, treat her as if she were my granddaughter, more or less caught in the unknown. But actually, this Riley in England was a tough negotiator and I had to work hard to prevent being over-exploited."

"Over-exploited, Mr Jenkins? I've never heard that term used in respect of a second-hand car dealer."

"Well you obvious know nothing about vehicle sales, Maybell. She finally beat me down to paying listed price with a free repaint job of the exterior of the vehicle including an expensive clearcoat top finish. With the repaint done by us, that amounted to a retail discount of $5250."

"Jeepers, but what was the cost of that repaint to your business?"

"Our margins are confidential Miss, but retail in this instance means the general retail price around our neck of the woods applying to vehicle dealerships."

"I caved in and gave her what she wanted, thinking she really ought to appreciate my integrity. My business partner almost kicked my butt for being so lenient but I appeased her by saying I'd work to get some publicity out of this deal because it was a great deal, involving our furthermost customer in the world."

"Quite right, Mr Jenkins. Ah, your business partner is female."

"Aye, but that's confidential as she had very high community standing in Napier society."

"Riley, what do you think of your car?"

"It's unbelievable, as if the first car I've ever owned as living in central London personal driving can be such a pain whereas public transport is good and highly developed."

"And what do you think of Mr Jenkins' ability to enable you to assist you make your purchase from almost 12,000 miles away."

"Brilliant, he was in the position to really fleece me, but didn't. In fact, the independent valuation of my vehicle is more than $600 over the price I paid for it. That's because he and his workshop crew worked in downtime to upgrade the vehicle a little and to go over it with a toothcomb to repair or replace items that might soon come up for maintenance or replacement for a 14-month old vehicle that has travelled 33,000 miles."

"Golly, what a deal you got."

"Well I was sweet to him and he appeared to like me."

"Yes indeed, and that would have influenced the deal. Why are you in New Zealand, Riley, to take in the scenery and check out the shops?"

"I'll be helping to ease the teacher shortage in a tiny way. On Monday I start teaching seniors English at Golden Queen Boarding School for Girls, not all that far from here."

"Ah, my old school. Are you aware where the name of the school comes from?"

"No, but my guess is from mythology but I'm bound to be told how it got its name many times."

"Thank you for your time, premium brand used-car sales specialist Jay Jenkins from Napier and the very personable Riley Ranfurly who arrived from England this morning to take possession of the vehicle she bought on-line while in Kent, England. Riley begins teaching at the long-established Golden Queen School for Girls a little north-west of Napier next week. Good luck to you both in your chosen pursuits."

"Thanks, Maybell, good interview and with your flair and competent presentation, it wouldn't surprise me if you were Head Girl in your final year at Golden Queen School that Jay has just told me was built on part of a Golden Queen peach orchard."

"Spot on, Riley, you really are something," Maybell replied sweetly. "That's a wrap, Bill."

Jay called, "Right everyone to the workshop, it's gone 5.00. Back out the vehicles, boys. It's time we splashed around the booze and non-alcohol drinks purchased from the $150 that Riley sent me last week to celebrate her purchase with the team here and any customers who happen to drop in, and that includes you, Maybell and Bill."

Chapter 2

Early on Saturday morning, Riley received a call from a female who introduced herself as Miss Duncan, deputy Headmistress at Golden Peach School.

"I apologize calling you so early Miss Ranfurly but we received disturbing news late last night that two of our senior teachers were seriously injured when their vehicle flipped when encountering black ice on the highway and the vehicle was wrecked. They were returning from a late-season ski trip on Mt Ruapehu yesterday. Fortunately, the girls they were supervising were on a bus following them were not involved in any mishap."

"One of the injured sustained severe neck injuries and was taken by ambulance to a specialist unit at Waikato Hospital and the other was flown to Wellington Hospital with fractures to the pelvis and right femur and also suffered head injuries when the roof of the vehicle caved in during the violent roll-over.

"Headmistress has contacted their respective parents. Headmistress and I worked for two hours to re-arrange teaching schedules and she asked me to contact you urgently to find if it was within your abilities to switch from teaching English to teaching music, namely the violin, guitar and taking the two chorale groups."

"Headmistress noted from your file that you were taught the violin for seven years from the age of nine and entered numerous age group competitions and taught yourself to play the guitar from the age of fourteen. Further, you were a member of your high school's senior girls' choir, and were the coach and member of your university's football cheerleading squad and Headmistress says if you were good at mastering those disciplines, then teaching music could be a piece of cake for you."

"Miss Duncan, did Headmistress actually say I would find teaching music a piece of cake?"

"Well, actually, she sighed and said for god's sake, this is rather like sending a bunch of raw recruits to the frontline of some distant skirmish, with Miss Ranfurly, our new recruit, being lumped with emergency teaching responsibilities the farthest distance in the reshuffle of everyone from her areas of specialisation."

"That's fine, Miss Duncan. I'll just have the girls in my classes gather around me having their eyes pop and ears flap when I relate my sexual experiences in a series of lectures, commencing from the time I lost my virginity at the age of 19 ..."

"Miss Ranfurly!"

"Lighten up, Miss Duncan. I was joking. I'm competent at many things, and playing music and singing come naturally to me and I possess an excellent ear in respect of music. I'll go forth, unafraid."

"Good, man the trenches, eh? On Monday be at the school assembly hall by 8.50 sharp to be briefed on the format of the meeting. Assembly will start with Headmistress speaking about that dreadful accident and the consequences and then she will introduce the three new teachers starting this term, with you up first."

Later, looking at her cased guitar and her cased violin in her hotel room, Riley sang in a forced soprano voice,

"How the fuck do I become a ghastly teaching misfit? I know next to nothing about teaching the playing of the guitar or the violin, for heaven' s sake. Best that I think deeply over the weekend and search the Internet for music teaching tips and inspiration hot off the World-Wide-Web. This jumble of tasks is to be performed in unfamiliar territory. That blows any chance I have of making an impressive impact on my first day at my new school. Fuck, fuck, fuckee, fuck. Students will flee my classes and that will beeee, the end of meeeeee. Curtain!"

She opened her violin case and held the instrument in an outstretched hand and conducted a make-believe disastrous teaching session.

"Girls, this is a fiddle, I mean a violin. You tuck it under your chin... no silly girls, the other end under your chin. That's right, whoops, don't fall over, that tottering girl wearing pink framed glasses. And you miss. why do you wish to leave this class when it's only started? What's a teaching period? You'll have to enlighten me, I'm only a teacher out of her depth and drowning in fear and self-loathing."

"Christ, Riley, you'll go far as a music teacher," Riley sighed, flopping on to her bed. "Fear and self-loathing, eh?"

"I need to go out to the nearby village and get a drink to attempt to drown any fear and loathing that hasn't hit me yet."

Riley went online next day (Saturday) on her laptop from just after 6 a.m. and read many articles about how to teach the violin and guitar as distinct from learning to play those instruments. She already possessed the, um, mechanics or perhaps it was better described as techniques. She had long spells playing those instruments, to sharpen her, err, techniques.

She played as softly as practical and received no complaints as presumable hotel guest were away from adjoining rooms for the day and room care staff probably enjoyed the music; two young women who tidied her room certainly did.