Free Heartland by Jenny Pattrick Page A

front.’
    â€˜He’s in a meeting, won’t be back for an hour.’
    In fact, Andrew has hastily retreated to the filing room. Di has never learned the skill of a quiet approach, so is often thwarted in her crusading by the absence of those in charge.
    Di eyes Cindy for a long moment. Cindy, a farmer’s wife, and no slouch when it comes to dealing with problems, holds her gaze.
    â€˜I’ll be back in an hour then,’ booms Di, her voice carrying easily to the filing room. ‘I’ll be up at the hospital.’ She shakes out the mac, sending droplets spraying over the furniture, and jams her arms into the sleeves.
    â€˜Boots at the door next time then,’ says Cindy, but Di has gone, leaving the door open to the weather.

    Up at the hospital, a nurse appears to help remove Di’s coat and boots. Matron is in, she says, and will be pleased to meet her in the staff room. Di Masefield is on the Hospital Board. Raetihi Hospital is under threat of closure. Threats are meat and drink to Di —
Over my dead body
! she shouts repeatedly at board meetings — so she is treated by the hospital staff with a somewhat wary deference.
    â€˜Matron,’ Di says, inspecting then rejecting the proffered gingernuts, ‘I am concerned about the welfare of a baby born recently at this hospital.’
    â€˜Oh yes?’ says Matron. ‘A relative? A friend?’
    â€˜Neither. Definitely neither. The mother is Pansy Holloway; the so-called father, Donny Mac.’ Di speaks this last name with evident distaste.
    â€˜So-called father? He has registered formally as the father. You doubt this?’
    â€˜Donny Mac is an idiot. Mentally deficient. The girl is a notorious whore. Reputed to be on drugs. Possibly they have created the child, Matron — personally I have my doubts — but they are surely not capable of bringing it up satisfactorily.’
    Matron sighs. ‘I’ve not heard any complaints.’
    â€˜Matron,
I
am complaining now. We don’t want it said that a child under our jurisdiction is being mistreated. Or worse. I believe we should bring in the authorities. Remove the child. The boy is a convicted criminal, as you will remember. Grievous Bodily Harm, in fact.’
    Matron replaces cup in saucer. She smiles carefully at Di Masefield. ‘Well, I’ll look into the matter. We have no jurisdiction, you realise …’
    â€˜But surely where a young life is at risk …?’
    â€˜We don’t know that, Mrs Masefield. I’ll get Mona Kingi to pay a visit.’
    Di releases an angry snort of laughter. She bangs down her cup of tea. ‘You must be joking! Mona Kingi is unhinged, as you very well know. She spends half her time in here …’
    Matron rises slowly. Her face is turning purple — a dangerous sign. ‘Mona Kingi is a registered nurse, a competent mother and is at the moment quite stable. She will give me an accurate assessment of the baby’s welfare. Is there anything more? Because I am needed in the ward.’
    Di Masefield is helped back into her boots and coat and released out into the storm.
    â€˜Interfering bitch,’ says Matron as soon as she’s out of earshot.

    â€˜Andrew,’ says Di (she’s caught him this time), ‘how’s the sewage scheme progressing?’
    â€˜Manawa?’
    â€˜Of course Manawa. Does the county have myriad sewage treatments in hand?’
    Andrew smiles thinly. He produces a plan of Manawa, points to a shaded area. ‘We plan to build two settling pondshere, down by the river. The treated effluent will—’
    â€˜I’m familiar with the plan, Andrew, but when? When? What’s your timing? I see no signs of implementation as yet.’
    They both know that Di needs the sewage system to be in place before she has any hope of subdividing her sections and creating her ski-chalet enclave.
    â€˜The locals are fighting this,’ says