Morning's Glory
Ann English
This is a work of fiction.
Lake Coleridge is a locality. It has a hydroelectric plant but it does not have a District High School.
In Christchurch, my own suburban church has a gymnasium used for Sunday services, but there ends the similarity with my imaginary locale.
All the characters in this book are imaginary. Their motivations, their theology, their attitudes and their flaws are my own.
Chapter One
The traffic gets worse every time I come to the city. Am I homesick already for the mountains?
Carolyn hauled on the steering wheel, slid into the correct lane, and wriggled to un-stick her T-shirt from her back.
No fear! I'm a city girl, starting at nine o'clock tomorrow.
She wiped her forehead. The man's watch that she wore bumped her eyebrow.
City girls can change lanes with their eyes shut. Lucky the Landrover's so high off the ground they can see me coming. Where's that blessed camping-ground? I want a room. I need a shower.
Carolyn followed a red Volvo station-wagon, all leather and gloss, into the motor-camp. Two stars clung to the camp's shabby signboard. Some mobile homes parked there had gardens, and others didn't have wheels. The expensive Volvo in front of her seemed out of place.
She glanced at the ugly block cabins. One of them no doubt had her name on it. Until she found a house for them all, this place would do. Temporaril-
"Aagh!" Carolyn thrust her foot down on the brake pedal. The Volvo in front stopped more quickly than she did. The space between them vanished.
Thud. The expensive red wagon skidded on the gravel, its tyres sending a shower of small stones sideways. It wobbled like a jelly on springs. The Landrover hardly rocked.
"Numbskull!" Carolyn condemned herself. There is no excuse for rear-ending someone. Her driving instructor said so years ago, and the law still said the same today.
The motorist in front got out and, perhaps because it was the expected thing, shook his fists to Heaven and slammed his door. Muscles, thought Carolyn. And fury. The door merely sighed shut, a tribute, of course, to airtight Swedish engineering. Carolyn braced herself for the moment when the man would focus his power and anger on her.
Keeping her waiting, the man spoke to a cat which strolled out from under his front wheels. The cat yawned. Carolyn suppressed a giggle and tried to calm her racing pulse. "It's no skin off your nose, moggie. Life is cheap for animals with nine lives."
The man turned in her direction and Carolyn knew she deserved the coming reprimand. I'll catch it all the hotter because the cat was rude. She closed her eyes to steady her breathing and ask for grace.
"Are you all right?"
Carolyn opened her eyes to find the other driver looking at her with what appeared to be concern. The window was open. He was closer than she expected him to be, and yet she didn't feel threatened. It appeared that she wasn't going to be shouted at. She sighed in relief and answered his question. "Yes, thank you."
He had a kind face, Carolyn observed, crinkled with laughter and shadowed by experience. They were about the same age, she guessed. They were much the same height, too, which was okay with her. Not many people were as tall as Tim and she, and although she and Tim were used to being asked "what's the weather like up there?", it was always nice to meet someone on the same level.
