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After breakfast Frances washed her few dishes and cleared away the food, leaving the kitchen tidy. Then she rang home and was delighted to find her mother and Kathy in. As she had guessed her mother thought it was a lovely idea. Frances passed the phone over to Gam and smiled at the way everything was arranged. Kathy was thrilled to have an invitation to see the farm and her joy came bouncing over the wires. Her mother was concerned to know how she felt, and Frances felt oddly touched to know that Ian had rung her family three times.

Frances climbed upstairs again to pack her bag. She stripped the bed, struggling with the size of it. It was a strange sensation to make it up again knowing that Ian would lie here tonight. She sat down on the bedroom chair to rest and restrap her ankle before she began dusting and polishing.

It was lunchtime as she finished screwing the lid on the polish. She gave the last cabinet a friendly flick, satisfied with her efforts. The whole room smelt deliciously of her perfume and polish. She opened the windows further and saw Ian striding towards the house. Just to look at his tall figure was a delight. He glanced up and catching sight of her, waved. Frances smiled without realising, then turned away to pick up her suitcase. She was halfway down the stairs with it when Ian saw her predicament and ran lightly to take the case from her.

They had lunch together and Frances tried hard to be witty and lighthearted. After lunch Ian said he would help Gam with the dishes while she had a rest for ten minutes. She laid down on the big couch in the lounge, glad to put her feet up again. It seemed only a few minutes before Ian came in with his first aid equipment.

‘Oh no! The instrument of torture,’ she said lightly to cover her confusion.

‘Come on, water baby. It’s not that bad, is it?’ he smiled. His smile sent her heart beating rapidly and she turned her head away lest he see the look on her face. Again he dressed her leg expertly and it was not so painful today. Even so she was rather white-faced when he finished and he poured her a drink of brandy. He sat beside her, lifting her against himself. His arm was round her to give her extra support and she leaned against him gratefully while she had the drink. It’s a little memory, she thought to herself. Once I leave he’ll probably only see me as a tramp again. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet feeling of content seeping through her. She became aware that Ian’s dark eyes were on her face and she felt compelled to look at him, to study his expression. It was a long moment, before he bent his head and kissed her gently and sweetly. Then he took the glass from her shaken fingers and strode away with it into the kitchen.

Frances stood up as he returned and offered her his arm. He helped her to the car and she climbed in.

’Bye, water baby! See you around.’ Gam came out and took the driver’s seat. Too late Frances realised she hadn’t thanked Ian. She tried to explain to Gam, but she brushed it aside, with a casual word. I’ll write to him, Frances thought. As they came out of the tunnel of trees she felt more miserable than ever.

When they arrived Jenny came out to meet them, hugging Frances gently, and the boys’ questions tumbled over like rapids as they wanted to know all the details.

‘Trust Uncle Ian,’ said Ivan, his grin stretching across his face. He was delighted, obviously, to find his favourite uncle very much the hero.

After Gam left with Frances’ grateful thanks the rest of the day passed quietly. Frances spent most of the time helping the boys to restring an old hammock they had unearthed. The day had been blustery hot, so she was not surprised to hear that the men would start harvesting again the next afternoon. In the evening Frances rang Coppers to speak to Ian so she could thank him for his efforts, and felt ridiculously hurt when Gam told her that Ian had gone to town. The thought of Ian with some unknown girl caused her considerable pain. She pushed the thought away, then determined to write the thank-you letter. The words in her heart she could not put on paper and it was some time before she drafted a formal note which sounded very stilted. To try to achieve some balance she did a thumbnail sketch of herself in Ian’s big bed. After she had sent the boys to deliver it the next day she wondered if that had been the wisest drawing to send. She hoped he would not misinterpret the drawing. At the time its double implication hadn’t occurred to her and she hoped Ian wouldn’t see it in that light. Thinking of Ian made her realise that he would be highly amused by it and she felt chagrin at her own efforts.

To Rupe’s delight the blustery hot wind continued, so Frances knew the men would be busy again in the afternoon. Jenny and she picked blackcurrants. The fruit hung in small shiny clusters from the twiggy bushes, and they could pick the fruit easily as they sat on the ground. The boys chattered around them like a nest of squawking starlings, alternately squabbling and laughing. Their efforts were added to the pile, but after the second carton of carefully top-'n’-tailed berries was spilt Jenny suggested they get their horses and go for a ride to a young neighbour’s place. They whooped with delight; their ideas of pleasure did not include the painstaking patience needed to deal with the juicy fruit. They cleaned themselves up reluctantly, then ran off in great glee. While Frances carried on with the blackcurrants, Jenny picked some raspberries. In the peace of the afternoon they preserved the blackcurrants, reserving some for fruit syrup for winter drinks. Both Jenny and Frances were highly pleased with the day’s activities as they surveyed the gleaming jars.

Work on the farm went on, in a steady pattern. Rupe seemed to be perpetually busy and Frances was glad her leg had recovered enough to let her go about her work. Her ankle had gone down to its normal size the day after she arrived home, but she was careful not to push it too hard. Time in the sunshine soon put colour in her cheeks, so apart from a small bandage covering the stitches she was almost back to normal. The stitches caused her only a little discomfort and she was looking forward to having them removed. The doctor had agreed to giving her an appointment on Christmas Eve on her way back to town.

On Christmas Eve Ian came over to take her into town. Originally the plan had been for her to go in with Gam, but in the morning Gam had rung to say Ian would be the driver.

‘My dear, my wrist is paining me quite dreadfully. Just occasionally I get this arthritic twinge, so I asked Ian to take you.’

When Frances told Jenny what had happened Jenny looked rather thoughtful.

‘Gam’s rather a rogue at times. I know she’s never had arthritis in her life!’ Jenny eyes Frances speculatively. ‘If it’s what I think, then I hope Gam’s plan works! I’m glad you and Gam get on so well together.’

Frances had sent her presents to the family over to Coppers earlier. She was sorry she would not be with them on Christmas, but was looking forward to going home for a week. Her bag was ready and she had dressed in her flouncy skirt with the pintucked shirt. Ian looked at her appreciatively, but said little as he escorted her to the car. She was very conscious of his physical size as she sat oddly meek beside him in the car. He escorted her into the doctor’s surgery, waited patiently for her and lent his arm as they went back to the car. He mentioned that he still had a few items to get in town and asked if she wanted to go straight home. Frances felt very formal explaining that her parents knew she would not be home till it was convenient on the farm.

They were lucky enough to get a car-park along by Noah’s Hotel. Ian told her how long he would be and Frances settled happily to watch the festive scene. For once the crowd seemed infected with gaiety; strangers greeted others with a smile or a ‘Merry Christmas’. The shop lights twinkled out their messages, lighting the floral baskets that hung from the shop verandahs. Even in the twilight fast fading, Frances could see the petunias, fuchsias and trailing ferns in the pretty baskets. The flowers were repeated in the more formal banks of colour in the gardens between the footpath and the river beside her.

Frances decided to mingle with the crowd, and slipped her coat over her shoulders. She studied the shops and the thought came to her to buy Ian a present. She had given Gam and all the others one, but now she felt she must not leave Ian out. A silversmith had his shop not far away, so she walked to it quickly, wondering what Ian would like. An idea came for a medallion of St Christopher. The legend had long been one of her favourites and as Ian had rescued her it seemed appropriate. To her delight the shop had exactly what she wanted, and she felt quite pleased as she made her way to the car.

Close at hand on the riverbank the carollers were striking up. Passersby stopped to join in, adding to the formal choir, while others held candles aloft in the night air. Frances realised then that this was the ‘Carols by Candlelight’ ceremony and she joined in the group singing. Someone gave her a candle and someone else lit it for her. She kept a watchful eye on the car for Ian’s return. When he did come back he glanced around and on seeing her wave crossed to join in. It was quite dark under the willow trees and the glow of the candles flickered above the water of the river. Frances remembered the disastrous night she had spent after looking at the giant rakaia and she shivered. Ian pulled her against him and she stood in the crook of his arm as they sang the old favourites. Overhead the stars shone brightly and the joyful atmosphere of Christmas seemed to spread its peace over all. When the last note of ‘Silent Night’ had died away they walked quietly back to the car.

Frances gave Ian directions to her parents’ home. On their arrival he took her suitcase and escorted her up the drive. Kathy must have heard the car and she came running out to meet them. Ian was introduced to the family and urged to stay for drinks. To Frances’ surprise he showed no desire to rush off, but later this was explained by his statement that he intended going to the Cathedral for the midnight service.

Frances went to help her mother, but she came out then with pizzas and savouries piping hot. Kathy seemed to have taken greatly to Ian and as she was almost completely uninhibited questioned him ruthlessly about his farm and his interests. Frances had the greatest difficulty in keeping a straight face over some of Ian’s answers. The tactics of children were not wasted on him. Martin arrived with his current girlfriend and more introductions were made. The lights of the tall pine tree flickered on and off as a pattern and around the base of the tree were a number of presents already. When it was time to go to church it seemed natural for Frances to go in Ian’s car. Kathy piled in too and they met up with the rest of the family at the stone building, floodlit for the occasion. The choir was already singing carols and the church was packed with people. Frances was conscious of Ian’s closeness as they joined in the worship, and when he looked down at her and smiled softly her heart sang. Poor Kathy was very sleepy and rejoined her parents after the service, so Ian and Frances went home alone. Ian drove easily through the sleeping streets. The street lights formed a pattern of shadow and light until he pulled up alongside the river. He turned to Frances and smiled. ‘Happy Christmas!’ he said, and kissed her gently.

‘Happy Christmas!’ said Frances, and kissed him just as briefly back.

Shyly she produced her gift. ‘It’s a thank you, Ian, for rescuing me and for your kindness when I was sick.’ Her heart was dancing in her chest as she held out her small gift.

Ian seemed very touched by her gesture. He opened the box and admired the silver disc.

‘I’ll put it on. It’s special because you gave it to me.’ He removed his jacket and tie and undid his shirt top buttons. He fumbled the small catch, so Frances took it from him and fastened it round the brown neck. The silver glinted in the faint light against the polished mahogany of his chest.

‘I know one way to say thank you,’ Ian suggested, drawing her to him. The kiss was a long deep one, sending her response of love crashing against him like waves against rocks. Her heart was unguarded and she knew a deep thrilling joy as she pressed closer to Ian. For a brief moment she felt sure that his response meant he shared her feeling too. It was a shock that left her gasping to feel Ian push her back into the seat and hear the roar of the car’s motor. When they arrived home a minute or two later he switched off the engine and turned to face her.

‘Despite the Christopher I’m no saint, Frances. But there are limits. I know in the past I wanted to have sex with you.’ He paused and Frances staring at him noted the look of strain on him.

‘I have to apologise to you, Frances. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that because of my behaviour you felt you couldn’t seek help from me. Instead you almost died.’ Frances knew there was a quiet steel in his words. She sat staring at him, trying to see his eyes which were in dark shadow, unknowing that her own were wide with appeal. Neither of them made a move until Ian said quietly, ‘Once upon a time I used to dream about a girl like you, someone pretty and spirited, who would need me as much as I needed her. Now I find her, and I’m the one who’s wrong. In this tale the prince has turned into a frog. For you there has to be a prince. I’m sorry, water baby.’ He opened his door and came round and helped her out. His hand held hers as he took her to the side door. It was open and Frances stepped inside quickly, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. He turned her round, though, and studied her, then held her to him, kissing her wet eyelids. ‘Your tears are like diamonds in the starlight. Goodbye, Frances.’

She watched him from the hall as he strode quickly down the path. A few seconds later she heard the engine start and then the car moved down the street. Frances tiptoed past her parents’ room. In bed at last she felt numbed, but no tears came. She wept inside for Ian, and for the two of them and their love.

Kathy brought her breakfast in bed. She had no desire for food, but she couldn’t hurt Kathy by turning down the breakfast she had cooked. Afterwards she showered and put on her prettiest dress of jade satin cotton. With her make-up and her hair swept up into the waterfall style, she was confident she could hide her feelings. She helped her mother and sister with the meal preparations, recounting incidents of life on the farm. Her stay at Coppers was explained and she was able to demonstrate convincingly that her ankle was better. The gash on the other leg she had dressed again that morning, but now all she needed was a light gauze pad on top. Mrs Elaman wisely refrained from commenting about Ian, but Kathy as usual came out with it forthrightly.