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rossrichdale

Ross Richdale's Novels

I am a New Zealander and the author of over forty novels, contemporary, historical and science fiction. Latest news and pictures about my books will be brought to you here.

Long Valley Road
Long Valley Road

Helen was still sobbing but nodded her head and slipped across the seat in the security of her father's vehicle. Julie slammed the door and ran to the back tray where Harold was lifting Melanie Blackburn on board.

 

"They won't come, Harold! Miss Taylor refuses to come."

 

"I'll go and speak to her," Courtney replied but Harold reached out and stopped her.

 

"No," he said. "I will. Can you drive the truck?"

 

"Me?" The teacher was doubtful. “I’ve never…"

 

"I will!" shouted Julie. “I’ve driven it around the hay field."

 

"No," Courtney ordered but Julie disobeyed her second teacher in almost as many minutes, ducked behind Harold and ran to the driver's seat.

 

"Get in the back with the children!" Harold told Courtney and continued in a quieter voice. "Which is your car?" He nodded at the two cars parked on the muddy grass.

 

Courtney stared wide eye at him as if her courage had deserted her."Why?" she asked.

 

"Give me your keys. We can squeeze all the little ones in the cars and follow you."

 

"Of course, Courtney replied. She handed a key ring to Harold. "The red Escort."

 

"Right lassie,” Harold replied and lifted the teacher up under the tarpaulin with her shivering but remarkably well behaved children who squatted under the green cover with their backs against the hay bales. Overhead the rain thundered on the canvas but only remote drips leaked inside the tent shaped enclosure.

 

"Go Julie!" he screamed and banged the driver's door.

*

Hundreds of metres above, the crack widened into a crevice and water poured out the side to further undermine the saturated soil. Thirty metres down another crack appeared and water flowed out.

 

But it was no trickle! A spout of filthy brown water, forced out by the pressure behind, cascaded into the air. A crack of thunder rolled across the valley but this did not come from the sky. Instead, the noise was from beneath the ground; the hillside shook worse than any earthquake and began to subside, slowly at first until more water poured into the widening gap to join that already there.

 

The pressure was too great! More water needed to escape and, like all natural things, took the line of least resistance... straight out! The avalanche was on its way and gathering momentum by the second.

 

Julie crunched into low gear, roared the motor and let out the clutch. It worked! The old truck moved forward.

 

"The windshield wipers!" she screamed. "They aren't going! I can't see." All the time her eyes were riveted onto the rain smudged glass.

 

"Daddy pulls that black button out." Helen, now over her tantrum, responded.

 

"Pull it!" Julie gasped.

 

The smaller Berg girl reached out and pulled the old fashioned knob and the wiper, there was only one, swung down in an arc so Julie could see the road ahead.

 

"Thanks, Helen," she said, and changed up to second gear. That was it, though. In the hay paddock she had never moved into a higher gear and the thought of doing so now was too scary to contemplate. Sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel and the motor screamed along in second gear.

 

As it worked out, this was the best gear on the slushy surface. Traction held and the heavy truck floundered forward, blue fumes belched out the side exhaust and, at the back, Courtney held the flapping tarpaulin down.

 

Her face, though was white with worry. What if what Harold said was true and there was no time! She grimaced, brushed wet hair from her forehead and gave an encouraging smile at the dozen children huddled in the semidarkness. The tray stunk of half wet hay and animal dung but was dry and they were moving.

 

Julie approached the ninety-degree turn into Top Oasis with trepidation. She'd never attempted a move like this and was too frightened to attempt to shift back to low gear. Even Daddy crunched it at times. She lifted her foot from the accelerator, shoved the clutch in and steered right to give her room for the left hand turn. The disengaged motor screamed, Julie swore, removed her left foot, swung the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator.

 

The Bedford lurched, mud squelched from the tires and the cab swayed. But the double rear wheels maintained grip on the soft gravel and the manoeuvre was completed. Ahead was the long drive and, being sheltered by trees from the sweeping rain, the truck just rumbled up. The nervous driver leaned forward, teeth bit a bottom lip in apprehension as white knuckles gripped the steering wheel but she was determined to reach the house.

 

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