Turning Point

By Jim Rowe

A middle-aged man finds romance amid dramatic adventures then starts a world-wide business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Mackay
• Release date: Oct 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9780986468032

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Turning Point

Jim Rowe

Copyright belongs to Jim Rowe 2012

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Published by Mackay Books on Smashwords

350 Bothwell Park Road

R D 2

Waiuku 2682

New Zealand

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National Library of New Zealand

ISBN 978-0-9864680-3-2

Turning Point

Jim Rowe

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my wife Alison for her patience and advice when this story was written.

Thanks also to my agent Heather MacKay for keeping me on the straight and narrow.

CHAPTER 1

Struggling up the steep New Zealand bush track with his heavy pack and a heavy heart, Peter reflected on the happenings of the past week. It was only last Thursday that Anne, his wife of 24 years had taken sick and was admitted to the Thames hospital. She died of stomach cancer the following night. She was only 45 years old.

Saturday night was the night of the Lotto draw, but it wasn't until Sunday that his son Gavin had checked his father's tickets and found that he was the winner of a multi-million dollar Lotto draw. Peter was devastated that he should strike it rich so soon after losing his soul-mate. He decided that he would put his win to the back of his mind for now. Whatever he did with the money, it would have to be in Anne's memory.

Gavin caught a plane on Monday and flew to Wellington on Peter's behalf. With a letter of authorisation from Peter, he claimed the prize and lodged funds of twelve and a half million dollars into Peter's bank account and returned the same day.

Early on Monday afternoon, Peter received a telephone call from one of his bosses at the Thames Freight Company where he worked. Bill Struthers and John Manning owned the struggling business in partnership and Peter had served them faithfully for 15 years. It was Bill Struthers who offered their sympathy and told Peter that he didn't need to cut short his bereavement as they had decided that they could not expect someone to come in on a temporary basis, so he would be replaced by a permanent site manager.

After so many years of struggling to help keep the firm financially sound, Peter was rather angry to receive this news and guessed that they would appoint Bill's son David to the position. David had received some training in the job, but was rather immature and disinterested and was nowhere near ready for the responsibility of the position.

The funeral service on Tuesday was well attended by Anne's family and friends from the various charities that she actively supported. His grief was such that Peter could not have coped with the funeral arrangements by himself and he was pleased to have the support of his daughter Carol and his two sons Gavin and Bruce. Carol and her husband Bill had put together a PowerPoint presentation of many old photographs from Anne's collection.

The local vicar gave a lovely service and the hymns were Anne's favourites, but it was all a blur to the grief-stricken family. How would they cope without their wife and mother? She had been such a cheerful and practical person and had helped them all in so many ways.

Tea, coffee and finger food was served in the church hall after the service. Peter was embarrassed to find that he could not remember the names of so many of the relations and friends who were present.

When it was all over, Peter and his children were alone at Peter's home. He presented Carol, Gavin and Bruce each with a cheque for three hundred thousand dollars, saying that he would take off for a few weeks before finally deciding what to do with his windfall. It was decided that Carol and Bill would return to their interior decorating business in Auckland, Gavin would return to Australia and his work as an accountant in Perth, and Bruce would continue with his university studies to finish his qualification as an architect. They were all sensible young adults and Peter was sure that the sudden increase in their funds would be well spent.

They had all left by lunch-time on Wednesday. Peter spent the rest of the day sorting Anne's personal clothing and ornaments into boxes ready for disposal. He had decided that too much had happened in a brief span of time, and he felt that he would benefit from a week in the bush behind the town to collect his thoughts. With a heavy heart, he shook the dust from his old tramping gear and assembled the equipment that he would need. A stop at the local supermarket in the morning would be needed for more of the food items.

The house was very quiet when he prepared for bed. The other half of the bed felt empty and cold and he had much on his mind. What a sad and strange series of events He had very little sleep that night.

Getting on his way for his bush walk on Thursday morning took more time than he expected. By the time he had tidied the house, made arrangements with his neighbour and left them the details of his planned walk up the Waiotahi track, purchased extra supplies and put his old Toyota Corolla away in the garage, then arranged for a taxi to take him to the end of the road, it was after ten o'clock when he commenced the climb up the first range of hills on the Waiotahi track.

His intention had been to travel much further into the hills behind the township of Thames, but by the time he had reached the top of the first hill, Peter knew that he could not go much further on his first day. The view from this point was amazing. The sea was visible on both sides of the peninsular, with bush-clad peaks between and small swirls of cloud reaching down to kiss the tops of the highest points of the range. He had seen this on previous trips some years ago, but right now his pack was heavy, his shoulders were sore from the weight on the straps and he was decidedly unfit.

He followed the track a little further, then dropped off the ridge track to where he knew a small stream commenced its rush down the slopes of the range and it was here that he found a flat spot to spend the night. It was a great relief to shrug off his pack, get his small cooker started to boil a small billy of water for his cup of tea, and set up the three metre square of nylon that he used for a shelter. He was also pleased to remove his boots and replace them with the light weight boating shoes and the long woollen trousers he had packed for evening wear. Sitting on a fallen log, sipping his hot billy tea, he was pleased that the weather was so favourable at this time of the year. It had been overcast with a westerly wind blowing off the sea, but quite sheltered where he had set up his camp.

As he looked about, he thought that this could be a good spot to spend a few days and he could set up a comfortable camp here. Being quite a way from the ridge track, it would be private too.

He was soon occupied with cutting fern fronds for his bed, laying out the contents of his pack and starting preparations for his evening meal. Tonight, he would cook the fresh meat and vegetables he had bought this morning. He browned the meat in his second billy, then added water and the diced vegetables. When it was nearly ready, it was thickened with a little flour. He made enough stew to last at least two days. Peter really enjoyed that meal, but could hardly keep his eyes open. The sun was going down as he washed his dishes and quickly tidied everything away out of reach of possums and rats. He was soon in his sleeping bag, and listened to the evening bush noises for only a few minutes before drifting into a deep sleep.

When the rising sun and the chatter of the birds woke him the next morning, he was reluctant to stir from his comfortable bed, but eventually climbed out and made his breakfast of porridge mixed with dried apricots, and toast made over the cooker, followed by a cup of billy tea. Today he would return to the high spot he had reached when he had climbed up from Thames and take some photos. There was no signal at the campsite for his cell-phone and he thought he should phone his daughter Carol and let her know that all was well. Sorting out what he would need for the day, he packed only his parka and a pullover, his camera, a map, a torch, his cell-phone and the small search and rescue radio he always carried in the bush. He added a bottle of water, a couple of sandwiches and a packet of biscuits for his lunch.

He made good time with the lighter pack and was soon standing on the high point. There was a strong wind blowing from the west, but it was not cold and visibility was good. After talking to Carol, he took a few photographs and decided to explore the northern part of the ridge track as it was a few years since he had been up here. Several tracks led down from the ridge track to the various bays up the coast. The first side track to the west was well signposted, but appeared to be little used. It was near lunch time when he reached the next signpost to Te Puru Bay, so he walked a little way down that track and found a sheltered spot to stop and eat his lunch before re-tracing his steps back to camp.

As he sat down and opened his pack, among the usual bush noises normally heard on a windy day, he thought he could hear a sobbing noise. Standing up, it seemed to come from a little further down the slope and off the track. Curious, he followed the sound. As he crashed through the undergrowth to where the noise came from, it stopped. A few steps later, he came across a middle-aged woman sitting on the slope with tears running down her face. She was dressed only in a full body swimsuit with a beach towel over her shoulders and had an airways cabin bag at her feet. She was obviously startled to see him and rose quickly to her feet as he approached.

'What's the matter?' he asked. 'Are you okay?'

'Not really,' she replied. 'I was following the track and got lost and now I'm freezing cold.'

'Have you any clothing in that bag?' he asked, pointing to the cabin bag.

'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I was so upset at being lost that I never thought of that.'

'Well, can you put on more clothes now? Or do you need help?'

She assured him that she could manage alone but asked him not to go too far away.

So Peter returned to the track and when she called out that she was ready, he asked her if she could make her way up to him on the track. As soon as she appeared, he reached out his hand to help her up the last steep bank, and then guided her to where he had left his lunch. She was now wearing a thin blouse and a pair of shorts over her swimsuit.

'I am Peter Ogilvie,' he said, introducing himself.

'My name is Linda Danver,' she responded. 'I'm so pleased that you came along when you did. I had no idea that the track would be so close.'

'You still look very cold. Here, put this on and it will soon warm you up.' He handed her the woollen jumper from his pack.

'Thank you very much. I am a bit cold. I suppose you are wondering what I was doing in the bush wearing only my swim suit?'

'The thought did cross my mind,' Peter replied. 'It is none of my business, so don't tell me if you don't want to. When you have finished those biscuits, I could escort you back to the main road if you like, or do you live nearby?'

'No—don't take me back. I was running away. I had a row with my partner and I won't be going back there. Is there somewhere I could go tonight while I try and work things out?'

'I have a campsite over that way,' he told her, pointing to a hill to the southeast. 'You could stay a night with me if you wish. Have you a blanket or something warm to wear? It may be early November, but the nights can still be quite cold.'

'I'll get by. Anything would be better than going back there to be beaten up again. That’s why I left my home; I told him that I was going for a swim, so I left the house in my togs with a towel over my shoulders. I walked down the beach and picked up this bag that I had hidden in the bushes on the foreshore last night, and then came up here to get away. I guess I didn't think it through enough to be properly prepared. Sorry about that.'

'I saw the bruises on your shoulder and back while you were wearing only your togs. Come on then. It's quite a long walk to the camp and you don't look to be any fitter than I am.'

As they walked, he learned that Linda was a nurse and was fitter than she looked, no doubt from rushing about the wards at the local hospital. Stocky and well built, she had a pleasant face and nicely shaped legs. Her auburn hair was a mess just now, but Peter thought that she would scrub up very well. Strenuous exercise had warmed her up and she had removed his jersey and stuffed it into the overnight bag she carried at her side as she walked.

'If you said that you were going for a swim, then people are going to think the worst when you don't return,' Peter said. 'Someone will be sure to call the police and report your absence. I will turn on this little radio and we’ll be able to hear what's happening if they start a search for you. I’m a volunteer with Land Search and Rescue helping them with radio communications and I carry this radio with me whenever I go into the bush.'

They continued their trip back to his camp without hearing anything on the radio, but they had just arrived back at his shelter when the radio burst into life: 'Thames Base testing,' and nothing further.

Recognising the voice, Peter picked up the radio.

'Thames Base, this is Peter Ogilvie. If you are looking for a lady called Linda, I have her here with me at