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The applause broke into a standing ovation that the woman behind the rostrum received with a modest smile. Professor Patricia Fenwick did not notice a colleague sitting purse lipped in the front row with eyes glued on her. Doctor Angelina Sands-Bentley was not cheering or even clapping as she sat with knees together and her gloved hands folded across her body.
The second day of the conference at White Reef Hotel overlooking Waikiki Beach in Honolulu was, to date, a brilliant success. Over a hundred and twenty top world scientists attended and the paper presented by Professor Fenwick on genetically altered crops to increase the world's food supplies was well researched.
After the applause subsided, the chairperson of the conference, stood, added his congratulations to the professor and suggested it was now a good time for a break. Conversations started throughout the room as the audience drifted through into an adjacent room for coffee.
Aggie waited while several people took the opportunity to speak with Professor Fenwick and when the woman of her attention was about to depart, walked up and introduced herself.
"Yes, Doctor Sands from New Zealand," the professor read the nametag on Aggie's breast. The tall, petite fifty year old looked younger than her years but this was probably helped by a dye rinse that hid gray hair. "I must say I enjoyed my years at Victoria University in your country and I look forward to the paper you are presenting tomorrow, is it?" The slightly condescending tone did not go unnoticed by Aggie.
"I don't believe you will, Professor Fenwick," came the terse reply. "For you see, unless you choose to co-operate fully I shall expose you for the fraud you are."
Eyes met, both serious; both cold but it was the New Zealander who held her opponent's gaze.
"Perhaps you had better explain yourself doctor," Fenwick hissed.
"My full name is Angelina Sands-Bentley," Aggie continued in a soft controlled voice. "My father is Doctor Harold Bentley whom, and I have evidence to support my statement, you had an affair with in 1992. The liaison itself is of no interest to me but the consequences of the joint research you did with my father is."
"What do you want, Doctor Sands?" Patricia Fenwick's stern voice failed to hide a slight quiver. "Is this blackmail?"
"Nothing so crude," Aggie replied. "Justice, professor. That is all I require."
Except for the chairperson who hovered around, the room had now emptied. "I won't be a moment, Stephen," Fenwick said to the man. "My colleague and I wish to have a few words in private."
"As you wish professor," the man muttered, diverted his eyes from Aggie's resolute gaze and departed.
Aggie placed her briefcase on an adjacent table, unzipped it, extracted an old scientific journal and placed it in front of her adversary.
"This article, written in July 1992 about a new strain of genetically altered potato called strain 233.35 and later know as Red Giant, lead to your rapid rise to fame, professor."
"Yes it was," Fenwick retorted. "That Red Giant variety increased a farmer's yield by twenty five percent, was resistant to blight and has helped feed millions but I can see no reason for this conversation to continue."
"Then leave, Patricia," Aggie hissed. She emphasized the woman's forename.
The scientist, though, did not. Her chin jutted out and face became devoid of the little colour it had. "Shall we retreat to more private surroundings," she muttered instead. "I have my suite only three floors above us."
"Thank you." Aggie smiled for the first time. "There are other documents I wish to show you."
In the expensive up-market suite with it's own living quarters and balcony overlooking the beach, the atmosphere was anything but cordial.
"Hear me out," Aggie began. "At the end I shall tell you the reason for my, shall we say, visit."
"Go on." Professor Fenwick had gained some of her self-assurance as she sat in front of the large kidney shaped coffee table and folded her legs.
Doctor Angelina Sands-Bentley reached for her briefcase again and took out a tatty document. She placed it on the table and looked up. "My father's original paper, professor, signed and dated at the end and including the extra three pages entitled, Precautions in using the Beta strain over the Alpha strain." She pointed to faded handwriting in the margin. "A handwriting expert will swear on oath this is your writing, Patricia."
"How did you find this?" Fenwick eyes were wide in astonishment. The handwriting was still readable and said, Wonderful research, but commercial interests are only interested in beta strain so why worry about the last bit?'
"Oh, my father was not the dithery old fool you took him for, Patricia," Aggie continued. "You destroyed a facsimile, not the original. Shall I continue?"
Fenwick appeared grim but nodded.
"Because my father still had romantic feelings towards you, even after you stole his work, he did not file a complaint but instead withdrew all support for the project and later resigned from his position." Aggie stopped and fixed her eyes once again on her opponent. "Not that you cared. You got the recognition you wanted and left a heartbroken old man in your wake."
"It was not like that," argued the other woman. "I had genuine feelings for Harold."
"Oh yes!" Aggie retorted. "Enough to rip him out of a life's work and bled him dry emotionally..."
"He wanted to withhold the beta strain..."
"I know. The alpha strain would only increase yield ten percent but it could be reproduced. The beta strain could not. Any grower using the beta potato for seed found the new season's crop produced a low yield and two seasons later, nothing. Growers, therefore, always had to buy new seed potatoes from the original producer. This happened to be Alderfield Chemicals and Produce that made millions by selling the pure Red Giant beta strain every year to unsuspecting farmers. You own forty percent of the Alderfield shares, professor. It must be worth millions of dollars.”
"You know that, too?"
"Oh yes. My research has been thorough. All will be revealed in my paper to the conference tomorrow." Aggie walked to the balcony and gazed out at the rolling breakers. "A beautiful view," she added in a light-hearted fashion.
"And what is your price for silence!" Professor Patricia Fenwick whispered.
"Patience." Aggie said "First, further proof of your plagiarism. The Red Giant in your original paper was called Strain 233.35. That, you may not realize was my father's birth date; 23/3/35 written the British way with the day before the month, was another bit of inbuilt security Dad had. Even though he loved you Patricia, the scientist in him suspected his love was not reciprocated and he guessed he could not trust you. Included in this published article are several other hidden passages to prove its authorship." She stopped for a minute and swung around. "Yes, they prove that he wrote the original paper. I have taken the liberty of highlighting these phrases in your research article." She paused. "I'm sorry, my father's article."
A trembling hand with long manicured red fingernails reached out for the scientific journal and the professor read the five highlighted sections together with Angelina's crisp comments written beside them to explain the meaning of the codes.
"How is Harold?" Patricia finally asked. The haughty professor was gone to be replaced by a vulnerable middle-aged woman.
"Retired but getting on with life," Aggie responded.
"And he sent you here?"
"Oh no. He knows nothing of my visit. "
Patricia nodded and placed the journal on the table. "I did have feelings for your father Angelina," she said.
"Perhaps you did," Aggie conceded. "If that is true, my request will not be difficult for you,"
"What is it?" Professor Fenwick's voice turned hard.
"Alderfield Chemicals and Produce will release the alpha strain of Red Giant Potato onto the commercial market so growers can reseed their own crops. Call it gamma strain, if you wish. Also, within six months, an article will be published in a reputable scientific journal crediting my father with the discovery of this, so called, new strain.”
"And in exchange?"
"My paper presented to this conference tomorrow will make no mention of your indiscretions and all evidence will remain with my lawyer in New Zealand."
"This is blackmail but I'll see what I can do," Professor Patricia Fenwick sighed and stood up. "Give my regards to Harold and tell him his daughter has grown into a scheming little bitch."
"Possibly." Aggie beamed. "Perhaps two wrongs do make a right. Don't you agree?"
The woman glared at her, was about to retort but instead, stood, flattened her skirt, walked across the room and held the door open for her visitor to leave.
*
A few weeks later a surprised Harold received a letter from an American publisher stating his paper would be published in their forthcoming scientific journal and a check for the publishing rights was enclosed.
"What is this?" he spluttered and waved the document in front of Fiona.
"She'll explain everything."
Harold frowned. "I knew it," he muttered. "You and my daughter have been up to something ever since her Christmas visit."
"Have we?" Fiona laughed but would say no more.
*
Breakfast on the first Monday in February arrived with different emotions for the Berg family members. It was the first day of the new school year; Julie was due at Feilding High School at eleven in the morning and she had all her luggage ready the evening before. She never said a lot but was somewhat timid at the idea of leaving home, even if it was only during the week.
Kylena was fully prepared for her new school but was apprehensive about the children, the parents and the other two teachers under her care; Helen was excited, as she would be in the middle room with Mrs. O'Reilly. Being in Year 3 meant she was not a baby any longer. She was also determined to travel to her new school on the school bus that was due to arrive at eight fifteen, forty five minutes after Mommy's departure.
Fiona found the idea of having to look after Caroline without Kylena, quite daunting but covered her nervousness and assured her daughter-in-law, as she described her, everything was fine and, anyhow, John was on the farm if things went wrong.
"Sweetheart you look superb," John complimented as he looked up from his breakfast to see Julie walk in the room wearing her new school uniform.” It’s early. Though. We don't have to leave for ages yet."
"I wanted Kylena to see it before she went to school then I'll put my old clothes on again." The thirteen year old pouted and switched attention to her stepmother. "The skirt's too long, isn't it?" she asked.
"It's perfect, Julie, That’s the latest style." Kylena replied and winked at John. They had spent almost an hour the evening before getting it just right.
"I feel funny," Julie gulped. "Uniforms are so different."
"Sweetheart," John said. "There are over a thousand pupils at the school and, except for the seniors; they'll all be wearing a uniform. You'd be the one looking silly if you didn't have one."
"I never thought of that," admitted Julie.
*
There were a handful Year 9 girls being shown around and they all looked crisp, clean and nervous as Mrs. Anderson, the hostel manager, showed them their rooms. It was time for John, Fiona and the baby to depart. Julie had just hugged her father and grandmother when a tall man in a suit came up with a smile on his face.
"So you're Julie Berg," he said. "Welcome to Feilding High Julie. You know, we have three other American students here, a girl and two boys. Suzanne is a senior exchange student who is staying in this hostel. I'm sure Mrs. Anderson will introduce you to her later."
"Hello," Julie replied shyly. She didn't know what to say to the stranger so turned to the adults behind her. "This is Dad, Grandma and my baby sister, Caroline," she blushed. "She's only two months old. Mom is the principal at Matakaka Valley School and is at work."
The man smiled. "Yes, I heard of her appointment. You must be proud of her." He chatted away for a moment, excused himself with a "See you at school, Julie," and strolled away.
"Who was that guy?” Julie asked.
"Beats me," John shrugged. "Friendly, though."
Mrs. Anderson who had witnessed the exchange stepped forward with a smile. "That was Mr. Harvey, our principal," she explained.
"Oh my God," Julie gasped. “I didn't know."
Somehow that act of kindness by the principal made Julie feel confident and proud. "You know, Dad. I think I'm going to enjoy it here. See you, Friday." She gave everyone a final hug and watched as they climbed in the car.
"And I remember when she was Caroline's age," John said as they drove off. "Now she's a high school girl."
"And did you notice?" Fiona added, "She's taller than the other Year 9 girls at the hostel. Julie is quite a young lady now."
"Yes,” said John. "Time slips by far too quickly."
*
Across the Rangitikei River and along Junction Road, the morning was going well for the teachers and pupils. Kylena knew the trick with senior pupils was to keep them busy from the very first hour but she found there was nothing to worry about. Only Ken was left from the four obnoxious boys from the previous year and he couldn't be more cooperative. Melanie, who was one of a dozen Year 8 pupils in her class of twenty-one, knew her methods and, like Julie the year before, became a great help. Also, without younger children, Kylena was almost embarrassed with the spare time she had.
"Are we going to write any more fantasy stories, Mrs. Berg?" Ken asked when she walked by his desk as the children studied a questionnaire they had all been asked to fill in.
"Later in the term, Ken," she replied. "Did you like them?"
He nodded. "How about science fiction stories?"
"If you wish," Kylena added and grinned as Leanne, one of the senior girls who came from the old Matakaka School, screwed her nose up.
"Better than the sloppy stuff you write," retorted Ken.
"Okay," their teacher interrupted. "The reason for this questionnaire is to find out what you like. I plan to have discussion groups and you can decide on your own topics. If you are writing completely different things, I don't care."
"How about drama and poetry?" Leanne asked. She was a tall mature girl, similar in some ways to Julie.
"Why not?" Kylena replied and walked back up to the front of the room where she turned on the computer monitor to display a large flow chart. It was headed up 'Our Term's Work' and had various subjects listed above empty boxes.
"I found out what you all did at your three schools last year but want to know what our priorities are for this term. I have my list of suggestions but want to know what your ones are. Now if you will go into buzz groups and..." her voice continued on.
Melanie leaned over and dug her classmate in the arm. "I told you she was a cool teacher, didn't I, Leanne?"
The other girl nodded. “I thought I'd miss Miss Hampton and glad she's here teaching in the next room but I think Mrs. Berg will be pretty choice.”
"Yeah, better than old Brucey Boy." Ken chuckled.
"You three," Kylena's quiet voice came from the front. "We're waiting for you.”
The three grinned at each other and turned to study the flow chart.
*
In Room 2, Helen had been working frantically on her booklet for twenty minutes but when Diane Hampton walked over to study her pupil's work, the page was filled with a massive brown scribble.
"Oh, Helen," she said in a disappointed voice. "What happened to that beautiful house you drew on the page?"
The little girl glanced up at her new teacher as tears appeared in her eyes. "That was our old school, Miss Hampton. It got all covered up in a mudslide." She pointed to a little frankfurter like figure in the corner. "That's Mommy having our baby."
She moved her arm. Written in neat printing underneath was; The mud came and killed my teacher. Julie saved me and Mommy had a baby. "Don't you like it? I tried hard."
Diane smiled. "I do. That mud did cover everything, didn't it? And you know, your story is written so well and the spelling is all correct. I'm going to give you one of my stars."
Helen wiped the tears away with her forearm and broke into a broad grin. "Gee, thanks Miss Hampton. Can I go through and show Mommy?"
Diane was about to suggest Helen waited until lunchtime but saw the expectant eyes gazing up at her. "I'm sure your mummy would love to see it so go and show her. Come and get your star first, though."
Helen smiled, watched as the glossy blue star was stuck on her page and dashed out the front veranda along to the adjacent room. She ignored all the seniors, ran up and flapped her booklet under her stepmother's chin. "I got a star, Mommy," she called out so loudly her voice travelled right around the room. The older children glanced up and laughed affectionately at their teacher's daughter with the cute American accent.
Kylena read the story, studied the picture and realized the deep thought that went into the work. "That's wonderful, Sweetheart," she said. “No wonder Miss Hampton gave you a star."
"I'm going to show Daddy tonight," Helen replied and left the room as quickly as she came in.
Yes, the first morning at Matakaka Valley School was a success.
*
"Kylena," Courtney said when she came in the staffroom half way through lunch hour. "Will you please come out here? There's no trouble yet, but I think you’d better deal with it."
"What is it, Courtney?" Kylena had just sat down to start her packed lunch after speaking to a parent on the telephone, watching over a lunch time swim and cutting up some paper for an afternoon's art lesson.
"Brian Cheever has turned up and is a bit under the weather."
"Oh hell,” the principal gasped and followed Courtney out the door.
The man was standing by the tennis court with a group of pupils who attended the school the previous year, gathered around him. Conspicuous by his absence in the group, though, was Ken who walked up to Kylena from the opposite direction.
"He's drunk, Mrs. Berg," he said with antagonism in his voice. "I told him he shouldn't be here but the younger kids think he is being funny."
"Thanks, Ken. You did the right thing to leave him alone."
"Oh no!" came Bruce's voice as she strolled across the lawn. "Here comes the big boss, kids. I'm in trouble now."
Kylena stopped a few metres from the eight or so children around their previous principal. "You children will leave Mr. Cheever and go and play!" she directed in an authoritative voice.
The children, most of whom were from Helen's room, took one look at the expression on their principal's face and decided a quick retreat was the best move to make.
Bruce Cheever did look a little flushed but was, thankfully, no way near as drunk as that day in the holidays, so Kylena decided to try to be diplomatic. "Would you like to come and inspect the new alterations and have a cup of coffee, Bruce," she asked in a quiet voice.
The man frowned as if he was taken back by the approach. "No," he muttered. "Just thought I'd come and see the kids." He smiled in a half-hearted way. "You know, my wife got a senior teacher's job in Feilding."
"That's nice," Kylena replied.
"No it isn't," the man retorted. "The old bag has walked out on me. Said she was sick of my moods." He laughed. "But I know she's got a fancy man living with her, Dan McGill. Do you know the bastard?"
"No I don't," Kylena replied as she attempted to guide the man towards the administration block.
"You should. Two of his kids are at the school. His wife, Mary had a fling with Chas Sullivan last year. Everyone's bloody swapping wives with everyone around here. Mark my word, young lady, watch that husband of yours with your new assistant, Diane. She goes to bed with anyone with money.”
"You're being crude," Kylena retorted. "This is a school ground. Please keep your voice down. Some of the children may be listening to you."
"Oh now it's Miss High and Mighty, is it?" He giggled. "Of course you landed on your feet. Got one of the biggest landowners in the district to impregnate you and forced him into marriage. Yank, too. That's a double bonus."
Kylena stopped mid stride and swung around. "That's it!" she growled with her voice like ice. "You will leave the property at once, Mr. Cheever. If you do not, I shall be forced to call my Board of Trustees."
"Okay, Kylena," Bruce muttered. "I guess I overstepped the mark. I'm leaving."
Escorted by both Kylena and Courtney, he walked to his car and accelerated away up Junction Road.
"Why is he heading that direction?" Courtney asked.
"I don't know or care," Kylena replied with anger still in her voice. "He's gone. That's all that's important." She caught her assistant's eyes and swallowed. "Sorry Courtney," she added. "Those nasty insinuations got to me."
"I heard most of it," the other teacher replied with a slight grin. “You showed great restraint. I would have slapped the bugger's face."
"Yes, didn't I?" Kylena's expression softened. “Come on. We'd better get that bell rung. One small hiccup on the first day isn't too bad, I guess."
Melanie, Leanne and Ken slipped in beside her on the walk back up the drive. "You showed him, Miss Delton...oops, I mean Mrs. Berg." Melanie laughed. "I've never seen a guy leave so quickly."
"What a creep!" Leanne added. "How did you put up with him last year, Ken?"
The Year 8 boy shrugged. "He was okay. Mind you we never did much work." He glanced at Kylena. "I'm glad you came here, Mrs. Berg. Dad said I'd better start working this year or I'll flunk at high school."
"That's good advice, Ken," Kylena replied. She was beginning to appreciate both Ken and Leanne and, of course, Melanie who was as loyal as ever.
*