Whale Pot Bay Read Free Page B

Milt…that sort of thing.
    I was about to say something rude when Dad intervened. ‘He lives over there,’ he said, pointing out the window. ‘At Whale Pot Bay, overlooking the sea. Jake will take you there this afternoon.’ He turned to me and added, ‘Won’t you.’ It was not a question. It was an order. Whether I liked it or not, I was to going to take this girl to see Milton’s place so that she could fill her silly little head with fantasies.
    ‘Oh good!’ she said. ‘Because I want to see everything about his farm.’
    ‘Everything?’ I asked, with an evil smile.
    ‘Yes! Everything!’
    I nodded slowly. Good, I thought, I’ll show you everything. I’ll show you so much you’ll be screaming for me to stop. By the time I’m finished, you’ll so want to get home you won’t even stay for dinner.

Chapter 3
    I chose the jeep as the vehicle to take for the afternoon. This is an old United States Navy jeep left over from World War II. We have several of them, but only one goes; the rest are stripped for parts.
    Stephanie looked at me a bit cross-eyed when I told her to hop in. ‘We’re not going in this, are we?’ she asked.
    ‘It’s this or not go,’ I replied. ‘You can please yourself.’
    She climbed in and immediately started moaning about the bare metal seat. ‘It’s cold. Haven’t you got a cushion?’
    ‘No, but you might find a sack in the back.’
    She fished around amongst the junk in the back while I reversed the jeep out of the workshop. Once she had the sack under her bottom, she started looking around for a seatbelt.
    ‘You won’t find one,’ I said. ‘But there’s a handle on the dashboard if you’re scared of falling out.’ Before she had a chance to grab it, I let the clutch out and lurched forward, almost throwing her over into the back. I felt her glaring at me as I weaved in and out of the rows of machinery, heading for the back of the yard where there was a gate between some macrocarpa trees. I stopped and waited for her to get out and open the gate.
    When she showed no signs of moving, I said, ‘You’ve got to open the gate before we can go through.’
    ‘Why me?’
    I took a deep breath before letting out a long sigh. ‘Ona farm, the passenger always opens the gate,’ I explained. ‘Then, after the driver goes through, you close it again and climb back into the vehicle. Understand?’
    It took her ages to figure out how the latch worked, but I wasn’t going to help. She wanted to learn everything about ‘Milt’s’ farm, then as far as I was concerned opening gates was part of everything.
    When finally it was unlatched she gave the gate a push, expecting it to swing open. It didn’t. It moved about a metre before getting stuck on the ground. Even when she pushed, it wouldn’t budge. She looked to me for help.
    ‘Lift it!’ I suggested.
    She did and, after struggling for a minute or so, had it open wide enough for me to drive through. Then she had to reverse the procedure to get the gate shut again. She climbed back in, puffing from the exertion. ‘Why did I have to close it? There aren’t any animals in here.’
    I gave another long sigh. ‘On a farm, we always shut the gates. You never know, we might come back another way.’ Before she had a chance to comment, I let the clutch out and surged onto the grassy track that would take us to the coast via a secret route that only a few locals know about.
    The land we were on actually belongs to Grandad. He once farmed it, but it’s no longer viable as a separate unit and so it’s leased to Hauruanui Station. Fortunately, the manager still lets us use it to get to Whale Pot Bay. While Milton might own the station, a manager runs it, assisted by three full-time workers. I doubt that Milton Summer knows much about farming, as he was born near London in England. He’d bought the property so that he could builda mansion and live with some privacy—probably to get away from kids like Stephanie Frew.
    When I