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Niche: The Crying Tree Series, Book 2
Fearing culpability for the loss of someone close, unpredictable firecracker, Fleur Alton, resorts to ripping everything apart: family, Tripp... even herself.
She aches for a supernatural power her mother Grace calls beyond, which often works with Nature, revealing portents to seers.
Fleur wills the 'gift' to empower her to find something deeper in life. She refuses to become shallow like her tormenting nemesis, who delights in digging away at dead things.
But beyond has its own agenda.
Caught in the liminal space between what she thinks she wants and what the universe decides must be, can a magical alliance and the tears from a sage old eucalypt save Fleur?
Will she find her niche? Will it ultimately find her?
Niche is the fiery conclusion to The Crying Tree duology.
CHAPTER ONE
Pig Peak, New South Wales, Australia.
May 1968
Ferocious autumn winds pummel an old eucalypt on the Alton property. Within its bark, it writhes and wavers. Should it cower? Attempt a rebellious stretch? Wild westerlies never untangle contorted limbs, they whip away branches.
The gales intensify. They howl and rumble. The tree shudders violently, swaying, creaking. A stinging rip assails an upper branch, leaving an injury the tree will eventually heal over with another burl.
As if suddenly deciduous, a flurry of leaves erupts from the canopy, dancing away in a pretty show to sprinkle down upon the homestead roof like holy water. A sigh of dull relief. It will lose more of itself, and its loss will be felt somehow in all other living things—the way since time immemorial. Here, now, it remains stuck in its mortal coil, beseeching the stubbornly clear blue sky for life.
Irrespective of the weather, far beneath any light of hope, it toils deep within the parched earth. As it weaves tenacious new roots, it butts against the hard ground in search of elusive water.
No less profound is the suffering of the property’s current custodians, who reveal their pain in rash actions, endure harsh consequences. One female here hides marks she has cut into her skin in a misguided attempt to reach her torment. She will need her strength if she is to heal her gashes, slay those encroaching dragons.
The tree will suffer further, yet it still warns the family of danger. Beyond the sensibilities of many humans—yet not all—the tree taps into ancient vibrations and frequencies, their messages integral to Mother Nature’s order, her synergy.
One woman here was gifted such heightened intuition—which another will receive, too, in her time of need. The sacred signs that the universe reveals—the inexplicable, the sometimes incorporeal—will throw them into a spin. Yet they can grow, give themselves over to wonder, realise their potential through their joy and their pain.
The crying tree understands the ways of the universe and its place within it. Deep inside the tree’s core, a subtle tide is on the rise, preparing for the time when its true purpose will be served.
*
Craving comfort, Fleur Alton is back doing a sneaky nose about in Teddy’s bedroom. She finds solace amongst his things—his precious things, her mother Grace calls them—despite this quiet room now being so grossly at odds with her animated brother.
An indignant huff escapes Fleur as she pictures her mother pinning down her wild boy to his room, keeping him neat and precious like her memories of him. Guilt surges through Fleur’s body, as unavoidable as her flow of blood, unseen yet heard in her mournful gasp, as she imagines Grace’s unspeakable agony when she packed everything of Teddy’s away. Instinctively Fleur crosses her arms. None of her pitiful self-ministrations ever touch her pain, let alone stop it. Is this what it is like for her mother?
Fleur scans the room. Here’s Freddy, her brother’s teddy bear, poised in a half-sit on the bed, sensing Fleur is about to spring into action and wishing he could too. Irresistibly, Fleur catches Freddy’s contained excitement. His one eye watches her as she flings open cupboard doors and dresser drawers, in her contained madness, giving air to Teddy’s life things her mother has tried to preserve in situ, like limp fruit in jars no-one will ever savour. Fleur sees embryos in formaldehyde, because untouched they are in danger of becoming dead things. It’s enough to give you the creeps. Teddy would hate that.
She relishes her disturbance here, inviting some to-the-rest-of-the-world-unseen part of her brother—the best part of him, the wild part—to come play with her. Each time, when the games are over, she restores Teddy and his things to their nice, neat, precious state—her mother none the wiser—with a sleight of hand and swing of a door. Today, to enliven her brother, Fleur sings a Beatles song as she practises a new dance for him, twisting and shaking her hips. She wraps up by placing one hand on her stomach, the other on her lower back, before giving her brother a deep, reverent bow—despite sensing that both Teddy and Freddy would lau...
She aches for a supernatural power her mother Grace calls beyond, which often works with Nature, revealing portents to seers.
Fleur wills the 'gift' to empower her to find something deeper in life. She refuses to become shallow like her tormenting nemesis, who delights in digging away at dead things.
But beyond has its own agenda.
Caught in the liminal space between what she thinks she wants and what the universe decides must be, can a magical alliance and the tears from a sage old eucalypt save Fleur?
Will she find her niche? Will it ultimately find her?
Niche is the fiery conclusion to The Crying Tree duology.
CHAPTER ONE
Pig Peak, New South Wales, Australia.
May 1968
Ferocious autumn winds pummel an old eucalypt on the Alton property. Within its bark, it writhes and wavers. Should it cower? Attempt a rebellious stretch? Wild westerlies never untangle contorted limbs, they whip away branches.
The gales intensify. They howl and rumble. The tree shudders violently, swaying, creaking. A stinging rip assails an upper branch, leaving an injury the tree will eventually heal over with another burl.
As if suddenly deciduous, a flurry of leaves erupts from the canopy, dancing away in a pretty show to sprinkle down upon the homestead roof like holy water. A sigh of dull relief. It will lose more of itself, and its loss will be felt somehow in all other living things—the way since time immemorial. Here, now, it remains stuck in its mortal coil, beseeching the stubbornly clear blue sky for life.
Irrespective of the weather, far beneath any light of hope, it toils deep within the parched earth. As it weaves tenacious new roots, it butts against the hard ground in search of elusive water.
No less profound is the suffering of the property’s current custodians, who reveal their pain in rash actions, endure harsh consequences. One female here hides marks she has cut into her skin in a misguided attempt to reach her torment. She will need her strength if she is to heal her gashes, slay those encroaching dragons.
The tree will suffer further, yet it still warns the family of danger. Beyond the sensibilities of many humans—yet not all—the tree taps into ancient vibrations and frequencies, their messages integral to Mother Nature’s order, her synergy.
One woman here was gifted such heightened intuition—which another will receive, too, in her time of need. The sacred signs that the universe reveals—the inexplicable, the sometimes incorporeal—will throw them into a spin. Yet they can grow, give themselves over to wonder, realise their potential through their joy and their pain.
The crying tree understands the ways of the universe and its place within it. Deep inside the tree’s core, a subtle tide is on the rise, preparing for the time when its true purpose will be served.
*
Craving comfort, Fleur Alton is back doing a sneaky nose about in Teddy’s bedroom. She finds solace amongst his things—his precious things, her mother Grace calls them—despite this quiet room now being so grossly at odds with her animated brother.
An indignant huff escapes Fleur as she pictures her mother pinning down her wild boy to his room, keeping him neat and precious like her memories of him. Guilt surges through Fleur’s body, as unavoidable as her flow of blood, unseen yet heard in her mournful gasp, as she imagines Grace’s unspeakable agony when she packed everything of Teddy’s away. Instinctively Fleur crosses her arms. None of her pitiful self-ministrations ever touch her pain, let alone stop it. Is this what it is like for her mother?
Fleur scans the room. Here’s Freddy, her brother’s teddy bear, poised in a half-sit on the bed, sensing Fleur is about to spring into action and wishing he could too. Irresistibly, Fleur catches Freddy’s contained excitement. His one eye watches her as she flings open cupboard doors and dresser drawers, in her contained madness, giving air to Teddy’s life things her mother has tried to preserve in situ, like limp fruit in jars no-one will ever savour. Fleur sees embryos in formaldehyde, because untouched they are in danger of becoming dead things. It’s enough to give you the creeps. Teddy would hate that.
She relishes her disturbance here, inviting some to-the-rest-of-the-world-unseen part of her brother—the best part of him, the wild part—to come play with her. Each time, when the games are over, she restores Teddy and his things to their nice, neat, precious state—her mother none the wiser—with a sleight of hand and swing of a door. Today, to enliven her brother, Fleur sings a Beatles song as she practises a new dance for him, twisting and shaking her hips. She wraps up by placing one hand on her stomach, the other on her lower back, before giving her brother a deep, reverent bow—despite sensing that both Teddy and Freddy would lau...
279 pages, Paperback
Published November 24, 2022
3 people want to read
About the author
Jane Ireland
8 books8 followersIn her former life, Jane graduated from university and worked in healthcare and education. Now a passionate author, she has completed two stand-alone historical suspense novels in her Crying Tree Series. 'Emigree' debuted in March 2020. 'Niche' is released in late November 2022. She has begun her third novel. Various genres are currently seducing her, including modern magical realism and psychological thriller.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
January 20, 2023
I thoroughly enjoyed this highly fulfilling sequel in the Crying Tree Series set in country New South Wales during the 1960s. Continuing the touching story of the Alton family, and their struggles with a recent great loss, Niche is both compelling and heart wrenching, bravely tackling issues of guilt, self-worth, and acceptance. Seen mainly through the eyes of Grace and Charlie’s daughter, Fleur, also Izzie’s son, Tripp, as they search for life’s purpose and make room for love, the beautifully written narrative is enthralling right up to its surprising conclusion. While satisfied by secrets revealed and wrongs righted, I was also enlightened to the evocative role nature plays in directing our lives—if only we are receptive to its wonders. I most definitely look forward to reading future works by Jane Ireland.
February 1, 2023
Jane has a very poetic style of writing as I found out when I read the first book in the series. It makes for such an enjoyable read even when the story line is sad or dramatic. Fleur is still suffering from dramatic events that have had a life changing effect on her life
Tripp may help her overcome her mixed up emotions but will she let him and what about Scott the unlikeable man her sister is going to marry. Then there is the past for Tripp and his mother to come to terms with. Hard not to gave away spoilers so I will just say a great story well written and recommend to everyone.
Tripp may help her overcome her mixed up emotions but will she let him and what about Scott the unlikeable man her sister is going to marry. Then there is the past for Tripp and his mother to come to terms with. Hard not to gave away spoilers so I will just say a great story well written and recommend to everyone.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews