Hamilton traffic was unconducive to a journey requiring speed. Something had taken over Victoria Street, causing a delay which stretched up Te Rapa Straight as far as the edge of town.
“What’s taking so long?” Hana complained as Phoenix woke up grumbling.
“Dunno,” Tama replied. “Climb in the back and sing a song or something.”
“To move the traffic?” Hana peered at her driver as though he’d gone mad.
“No!” He shook his head and wound the window down. “To settle your daughter.”
Hana nipped into the backseat and utilised the tinted windows to feed her baby while the vehicle was stationary. Tama felt nervous, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and wondering if his uncle might let him pick his own method of death, or if it would be instantaneous. He’d seen Logan fight. He usually laid people out pretty quickly. Tama admired his face in the rear view mirror. “Such a waste,” he muttered.
“What is?” Hana asked and Tama shook his head.
“Nothing.”
They sat for half an hour, during which time the baby was fed, winded, re-fed and placed in the car seat. She smiled at her mother and babbled about nothing in particular with great animation. The vehicles moved a few metres and then stopped again, to allow half the Hamilton police force to charge through red traffic lights with their sirens roaring out into the wintry sky.
“Must be time for morning tea,” Tama said sarcastically, as the last cop car zapped through. “They don’t move so quick for much else!”
Hana ignored him and dared to think of her father. “Oh, this is a big mistake,” she breathed. “What am I doing?”
Phoenix grinned beatifically in answer and then worked to fill her nappy. Hana groaned, “That’s all I need!”
“I’ll change her,” Tama offered, “if you want to go in first on your own. That is, if we get there at all today!”
The traffic cleared suddenly. There was nothing to show for the delay, no road works, no broken down vehicle, nothing. It was as though everyone stopped for no particular reason and then decided to get going again.
“Weird!” Tama muttered under his breath.
“It was probably all those cop cars needing to get through the lights,” Emma said, chewing her thumb nail and alternately rolling her eyes and squeezing them shut.
At the motel, Hana went into the reception while Tama changed the baby on the back seat of the car. As Hana looked back, she spotted little pink legs waving in the cold air and contemplated doing it herself. But Tama was right; it would be better if she met her father alone. “I’d like to see Robert McIntyre,” she said to the receptionist, whispering for reasons she couldn’t fathom.
“Certainly, take a seat and I’ll ring his room,” the woman replied, a fake smile plastered on her lips. The receptionist had a short conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line and then called Hana over. “Room 42. Go into the car park and turn right. It’s on that side of the building.”
Outside, Hana walked through an archway into a courtyard. Cars were parked in front of units but the numbering scheme wasn’t easy to read, some of the signs faded. She looked around her, feeling stupid. “Hana!” A familiar voice called her name and she turned and saw him. He was almost three decades older, but very much her father. “Hana! Bairn!” Robert McIntyre held his arms out in front of him and ran towards his daughter on wavering legs. He seemed unashamed, drawing attention to himself without caring. The proud, reserved man was gone, shouting a name which for too long was only uttered in his prayers. Hana was almost bowled over, shocked by how frail his body seemed. Robert McIntyre was once a burly Scotsman, with a voice which boomed from the pulpit without meaning to. Everything about him had shouted power and authority but he was like a shadow of that man, all clothes and winter jacket with no flesh beneath.
Hana buried her face under his chin and tried not to recount the wasted years, smelling the familiar scent of his aftershave and his favourite Coal Tar soap. She felt his great drops of grief drip into her hair and clutched her father’s ragged body, hiding her shock. When she pulled back they spoke at the same time. “Sorry.”
Their dual apology crossed the years, leaving healing in its wake. Robert led Hana to his motel room. It was clean and comfortable, practical but not plush and to her relief, Hana found it empty. Robert pulled an easy chair out for her. “Sit, please,” he said. Then he closed the ranch slider and fiddled with the remote control for the heat pump, trying to raise the temperature. Hana watched him sensing he was different. The years had stripped away arrogance and pride and left somebody else underneath like a clean, new skin. When he got the device working to his satisfaction, he sat on the edge of the double bed facing her.
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” Robert said, his face twitching with nerves. “Your husband promised to speak to you, but I wasn’t sure...” He left the sentence unfinished and it caused a distracting lull in conversation. Meeting after all these years was emotionally draining and it felt like they needed the tide to come back in so they could continue. Hating the silence they both spoke at once and Hana’s father held out his hand to let Hana go first.
“I want to apologise to you, Dad,” Hana said, ignoring his frantic head shaking. “I never considered what it meant for you, to have me turn up like that, pregnant and trailing a boyfriend. It must have been dreadful for you and Mum. Will you forgive me, please?” She felt tearful and raw as though her heart had been peeled.
Robert held up his hand. “Of course, I forgive you,” he gushed, “but it’s I who should apologise. How I reacted, what we did to that poor boy, throwing him out like that; it was wrong. I’ve never before or since felt consumed by an anger like it, but it wasn’t worth it for what it cost me. I’m truly sorry, Hana.”
“Thanks, Dada,” she said, hearing herself involuntarily using the childhood name. “I don’t know where to start,” she faltered. “I never thought I’d see you again, so I haven’t thought it through. I read you were...it doesn’t matter.”
Her father smiled, his blue eyes the only thing which hadn’t changed in the intervening years. “On the contrary, Hana,” he said, “I’ve imagined this moment almost every day for the last twenty-six years. And I decided long ago we would go for coffee.”
Hana laughed. It was unexpected. Her frugal father was offering to buy her a drink. She wanted to make a joke about the moths in his wallet getting an outing but daren’t, still feeling slightly hysterical. “I’ll tell Tama,” she said, pulling out her phone and ringing his number.
Tama answered immediately. “Hey, me and Phoe are going for a walk,” he said. Hana heard the icy wind blowing around the phone and a slight shiver in his voice. “She’s in her pram and the chicks are loving it.” Hana tutted and he laughed. “Just kidding, Ma. I’m telling them she’s my sister.”
Hana explained she’d be in the motel resident’s lounge and Tama rang off after asking if she was ok. Am I ok? Hana thought, but didn’t know the answer.
Robert ordered two coffees and put it on his room tab. Then he sat next to his daughter. The embarrassing silence threatened to descend again and Hana tried to disperse it, not wanting to keep climbing out from underneath it. “Tama said you’d remarried,” she said, “but the useless boy couldn’t remember her name.”
“Elaine,” Robert replied, looking at Hana oddly.
Hana nodded. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
For the next hour they chatted, catching up on each other’s lives. Robert asked questions about Vik and their life together, how they ended up in New Zealand and about Bodie and Izzie. “I understand I’m a great-grandfather,” he said shyly.
Hana nodded. “Yes, Bodie has Jas and Izzie has Elizabeth, Vik and Marcus Junior. The boys are twins, born last year. Elizabeth is...Elizabeth has...” Hana swallowed and eyed her father nervously, remembering his fear of the imperfect. He reacted badly to anything which threatened his veneer of perfection. Hana took a deep breath and refused to deny her adorable granddaughter. “Elizabeth has Down Syndrome. She’s an amazing little girl and we love her so much. The doctors didn’t think she’d be able to talk, but she’s managing a few words now.”
Hana looked away, fighting her tendency to babble. She missed Logan like a physical ache, understanding why he hadn’t yet told her he’d found Robert; he wanted to be with her for the meeting. He would have sat with her and plugged the awkward gaps. Hana bit her lip, seeing how Logan complimented her so well, making up for all the bits she lacked in her scatty, nervous nature. She’d cut him out, circumnavigated his wisdom and regretted it like she always did whenever she acted impulsively and wrenched herself out from under his well-intentioned protection.
“Did you know Mark was here in Hamilton?” Robert asked, inclining his head to drink his coffee. Hana saw the telltale hearing aid nestled in his left ear and realised again how much she’d missed. When did he notice he couldn’t hear?
She gave a tight little nod. “Tama told me,” she answered, “but I didn’t know before today, otherwise I would have...”
Her father lifted an eyebrow, clearly wondering what she would have done. Hana realised she didn’t know herself. She decided to steer the conversation to safer ground. “How is his...wife and family?” she asked politely, pausing to take out the word perfect, which she automatically slotted into the sentence.
Robert shook his head sadly. “Mark hasn’t seen them for many years. Claire left not long after that awful day. They had problems before that, but Mark chose not to see what was under his nose. There were lots of contributing factors. His job didn’t make marriage and child rearing particularly easy and he wasn’t the most conducive man to get along with. They came to see your mother and I, to break the news they were separating. Mark was torn up with hurt and anger.”
“Oh.” Hana put her head in her hands. “I’ve thought of him lots over the years and assumed he live a charmed life with two perfect sons and a perfect wife, tea on the table and slippers by the fire. I felt I was the family disgrace and needed to be swept under the carpet.”
“No, bairn,” her father smiled. “That day was a day for shocks. Pregnancy and divorce in the space of two hours.”
“Not a good day then?” Hana said, her voice soft.
Robert shook his head. “No. I lost a daughter, a daughter-in-law and three grandchildren, all by myself.” His face seemed to change colour, turning grey in the dimly lit lounge. Hana touched his knee with feather light fingers.
“Let’s not dwell, Dada.”
Robert nodded. “Just one thing though, your husband let an intriguing fact drop yesterday.” He drummed his fingers lightly on the arm of his chair as though unable to contain a hidden beat. “I didn’t know Mark wrote to you after Judith died, or that he told you not to come to the funeral.” His eyes flashed as Hana nodded, fresh pain threatening to overwhelm her in her seat. “I didn’t tell him to do that, Hana,” her father said, leaning closer. “He told me he’d written care of the university and I wrongly assumed you didn’t want to come. Please forgive a foolish man for not following it up and checking with you. I apologise for that error of judgement.”
“I look back now,” Hana said, nodding, “and it’s like a catalogue of disasters. Little miscommunications and ideas I had about you. I was wrong. I should have written because it would have been easier to say in a letter. But I was scared you’d ignore me and I couldn’t bear that. I tried phoning, but I’d wait in the queue for the phone box on the corner of the promenade and then when it was my turn, the pressure was too great and I’d walk away. After three or four times of making a fool of myself, I gave up.”
Robert reached for her hand and it felt unnatural to Hana; he’d never been a demonstrative man. “Ah, sweetheart,” he breathed and kissed the back of her fingers.
Hana gulped. “Mark must be in his late fifties now,” she said to cover her embarrassment and her father nodded.
“He’s a very accomplished surgeon,” he said with pride. “He arrived in New Zealand on a two year contract last January. He’s heading up the surgical unit here and has been offered the chance to stay permanently. It’s how come he ended up operating when you had your little accident.” Robert looked away with an awkward tilt of the head.
“Did Mark think I slit my wrist on purpose?” Hana asked, with a little too much aggression and her father looked surprised. She surprised herself. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if my brother thinks I’m a fruit loop; we won’t meet again.” Hana chastised herself inwardly. Lots of people killed themselves for many sad reasons and not always because they were insane. Her mind ventured onto the dark path towards Laval and she pulled it back. Her father was speaking.
“At first I think he did. I made the mistake of asking your husband yesterday if you were mentally stable. He didn’t like it one bit.” Robert looked contrite, pursing his lips and wrinkling his nose.
Hana pulled a face, muttering under her breath, “I’m surprised he let you live,” regretting it as she recalled her father’s cancer. Robert didn’t notice.
“Mark rang us so upset. But when he called again later, he said the police were crawling over the hospital in relation to a kidnapping. He wasn’t sure if it related to you but intended to see you again later that day. His next call ruined all my dreams of a reunion, because when he got to the ward, you’d gone. He was devastated. I wasn’t long out of surgery myself and the doctor made me see my radiotherapy through until the end. They wouldn’t let me fly until that was out of my system, but I strived to get better and come here to find you.”
Hana bit her lip. “Perhaps this is a better way,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d have coped if Mark stood by my bed in his scrubs looking all judgemental. I’d have panicked and Logan would have reacted in my defence. The whole incident was a nightmare without added complications like long lost brothers.” A memory crossed Hana’s mind of the ordeal; a familiar gentle voice telling her she’d be ok, stroking her hair back from her forehead and offering reassurance. It gave her comfort and something to hold onto in the dreadful mist which swirled around her. She’d clung to the soothing tones and felt a sudden rush of understanding. She heard Mark; her brother. “It was an expensive crystal whisky tumbler,” Hana said, banishing the sight of her blood spraying an arc on the concrete driveway beneath her feet. She held her hand out, palm upwards for her father to see, as though holding out a sibling’s drawing for admiration. “Look, he did a good job.”
Robert cringed and shook his head. “My poor wee girl.”
“I know it’s a mess,” Hana said with honesty. “It got infected and reopened itself, but I didn’t want to go back into hospital. I couldn’t bear to be away from my baby any longer. I believed I would die when he snatched me from the car park and I thought for a long time afterwards if I took my eyes off her, she’d disappear.”
Hana looked into her father’s eyes and read his fears there, comprehending what it was like for him. Perhaps he was afraid if he took his eyes off her that she might disappear again forever. Hana closed her eyes and fought light-headedness. She sipped at her cooling coffee and tried to control the numbness that wanted to fog out her brain. Suddenly her father leaned towards her. “Hana, would you be willing to see your brother?”
Hana’s brow knitted and she closed her eyes, not able to give him a straight answer. “I honestly don’t know, Dada,” she admitted. “Maybe. But only if Logan’s there. Can I think about it? I’m not quite ready to play Happy Families yet.”
Robert nodded, satisfied. He seemed more content in his dotage. Hana asked about his career and if it was strange for him, being headmaster at the primary school she and Mark had both attended. He entertained her with funny stories, surprising her as he told how he lived in the little cottage next to the village school. Hana’s eyes widened. “We used to think that place was haunted,” she laughed. “Didn’t some old lady live there and shout at us when tennis balls went over the wall into her garden?”
Robert laughed uproariously and it was a wonderful sound, a Scotsman’s mirth. “That’s right,” he said, “but it was Mrs O’Rourke. Her husband used to be the school caretaker when you were at school. Do you know how old she was?”
Hana thought for a moment. “She was easily a hundred!” she said, wide-eyed.
Her father laughed again, so hard he had to wipe tears away with a patterned hanky from his breast pocket. “She was your age now!” he chortled, “She was forty six!”
Hana pulled a face and felt disgruntled. It got her worrying about what the boys at school thought of her. “She was definitely a hundred,” she grumbled.
Tama picked that moment to wheel the pram through the doorway into the resident’s lounge, bumping it into the door and grimacing at Hana. “Sorry, Ma,” he said, looking guilty, “but I didn’t bring a coat.” He put his cold hand on her cheek and she jumped and slapped him.
“Ugh, get off, silly boy!”
He laughed and plopped himself in the seat opposite, keeping the sleeping baby moving with his hand on the bar of the pram. Robert looked longingly into the blankets. “The child’s stunning,” he breathed. “She has a look of her father; it’s the long, black lashes and clear, olive skin.” He wondered if her eyes were the same penetrating grey as Logan’s. Robert found Hana’s husband distinctly unnerving.
Phoenix twisted her head from side to side in her sleep, opening and shutting her mouth. Hana reached forward and released a little hand from the blankets and she popped her thumb between her tiny lips and settled. Robert shifted his gaze to his daughter, forcing down the dreadful ache which snapped at his fractured heart as he saw his beloved Judith in every facet of her. The emerald green eyes and curly red hair seemed to cause him physical pain. She looked so like her mother. He wondered if she knew and if the fact brought comfort or agony during the intervening years.
Just then Robert’s wife entered the lounge and searched it with her eyes, looking for him. He gave a small wave with his fragile hand and she smiled and made her way over. She carried groceries for their lunch but seeing Hana and Tama, her footsteps slowed. Robert sensed his wife’s anxiety and rose to his feet as she approached. Hana instinctively looked behind her, the look of shock crossing her pretty features. “Aunty Elaine?”
The arrival of her mother’s sister seemed to Tama, to be too much for Hana. The pleasant meeting degenerated into long silences as Hana struggled. Her mind fought the notion of her father replacing her beautiful mother with a severe woman who never had anything good to say about the family. The word according to Elaine was that Mark was too bright for his own good and Hana too stupid for hers. ‘Poor disabled Judith,’ who managed perfectly when Elaine wasn’t around, was a pitiful object of everything wrong with those less fortunate. She was a blight on the McIntyre home and no-one was sorry to see her head back to Belfast on the plane. Hana’s deaf mother once signed to Hana that she felt her sister was jealous and that her green eyes flashed with something of ‘the monster’. Hana laughed and found it funny, but she wondered later if Judith was right.
Elaine’s eyes were green like Hana’s, but there the similarity ended. She had straight dark hair and severe features, a throwback to the harsh Irish clan of the early sepia family photographs on Hana’s grandmother’s wall. Her visits were tinged with criticism and antagonism as the ever patient Judith bore her sister’s continual interference with grace and good nature. “No, Judith,” Elaine would spit, “you should do it like this. No, Judith, it would be much better like that.”
Pretty auburn-haired Judith lip read and smiled sweetly, but the moment her sister left, would return her home to its previous good state, dusting her palms together as though brushing the woman’s influence from her life. But once, Hana caught her mother crying. Judith waved away her daughter’s attempts to probe, but Hana felt sure her recently departed aunt had tried to take over more than just the household routines. Judith’s tear streaked face looked fearful, as though the officious woman had made a stab at possessing something far more precious. Hana resented her aunt’s worship of Robert McIntyre and how she hung on his every word. That last visit, her adoration was embarrassing. Hana tried to talk to Mark about it but he laughed it off with a cruel cackle as he did most of his little sister’s fancies. Following that visit, Aunt Elaine was never an overnight guest at the vicarage and left the McIntyre family in peace.
Robert adored Judith with a fierceness she saw reflected in Logan often and Hana concluded Elaine’s infatuation was one sided. He was both proud and amazed at his wife’s achievements, at the incredible paintings she produced in her spare time, at how she managed in her work as a librarian at the local secondary school. She was an inspiration to him and there was no wonder her death robbed the strong man of his faith for a time.
Hana observed Elaine cuddling up to her father on the leatherette bench seat and felt nauseous. In her mind’s eye, her mother’s tearful face watched them down the years, unbelievably sad. Hana couldn’t bear it. She stood up, surprising Tama and knocking the pram in her efforts to get away. Making hollow excuses, Hana thanked her father for the coffee and pushed her baby from the lounge, leaving Tama forced to run to catch up.
Outside she looked ashen and the young man regretted his willingness to betray Logan, recognising his uncle’s wisdom in biding his time. He put his arm protectively around Hana. “I’m sorry, Ma. I’ve stuffed up. We should have waited for Uncle Logan.”
Hana shook her head. “I need to go. Please can we leave now?” She looked pitiful, her green eyes huge in her pale face and her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Tama nodded, transferring the sleeping Phoenix into her car seat and dismantling the pram.
“I’m so sorry. Logan’s gonna kill me.” His misery was partly for her but mainly for himself.
“I’m not telling him,” Hana said with a wobble in her voice. “I think today’s best forgotten.”
A chill wind nipped at Tama’s shirt sleeves and snatched at his jeans, reducing the temperature to little above zero. Tama blew on his hands and jumped into the driver’s seat. Hana climbed in next to him, eerily quiet. He started the engine and turned right out of the motel, crossing the four lane road carefully with his precious cargo. Boundary Bridge seemed calm after the earlier traffic jam and within minutes, they crossed the river, heading towards the school site.
“Are you staying with us?” Hana asked, “Or do you want to go back to Culver’s Cottage and get your ute?”
Tama shrugged. “Can I stay with you, if that’s ok? I’ll talk to Uncle Logan and then go back to the hotel. Jack lets me use his guest room and I can work for free while I sort out the fire brigade stuff.”
“You know Alfred lives with Jack now, don’t you?” Hana asked. “That won’t be a problem will it?”
Tama shook his head and thought about his family tree. It sometimes resembled a case of bindweed. He gave a soulless laugh. “Do you mean Alfred who was my great uncle, before he was promoted to grandfather, because my uncle is really my father? That Alfred?”
Hana sighed and nodded. “The very same.”
“Na, it’s ok.” Tama reached across and captured Hana’s writhing fingers in his left hand. “Alfred’s always been kind to me, even though his son wasn’t interested.”
“I’m sorry Michael was such an arse,” Hana said, clasping her fingers through Tama’s. “You deserved better in a father.”
“The truth is, I don’t actually like Michael. He’s clever and superior, definitely has our handsome Du Rose genes, but he’s a total idiot with none of the dark mystery Uncle Logan harnesses. None of the moral scruples either, from what I’ve heard.” Tama snorted with laughter. “You know what? Someone told me recently that Michael and Aroha are dating again; my parents are giving it a go after almost nineteen years. It makes me sick!”
Hana eyed him sideways in sympathy. “Parents hey? Who’d have ‘em?”
Tama shuddered and nodded. “My Poppa Reuben was father and mother to me in his own way. He discovered early on that Kane was as vicious a father as he was a human being and sheltered me from some of it. He was a good man; I wish Logan got to know him before he died.” Tama wrinkled his nose in sadness.
“So, you haven’t seen your mother recently?” Hana asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t wanna. She left me when I was a baby and Poppa Reuben wouldn’t let her have me when she came back.”
“At least she did come back for you,” Hana said softly. “It shows she cared.”
“Maybe. Not enough though.”
“How do you know?” Hana’s heart ached for a woman she’d never met, sympathising in a compassion which came from her soul.
“She never came back, did she?” Tama said. “She could’ve seen me outside their control. Why didn’t she come to sports days and school plays? Kane and Poppa couldn’t have stopped her doing that. But she didn’t.”
Hana stilled her wagging tongue, recognising a desperate need to make his life better now she’d discovered she couldn’t heal her own. Tama shook himself to clear his head and Hana reached forward and turned the heat up, thinking he was cold. He was; but it was a chilling of the soul that afflicted Tama and not the spiteful wind which blew off Antarctica.
“You might not want to be there when I tell Uncle Logan about dropping out of college,” Tama mused as they turned into the long road leading to the school. “I once saw him take out two guys without breaking a sweat. He used to tell me it’s how you hit, not how hard.”
Hana pulled a face and shook her head. “Don’t be silly, we’re all in this together. Logan wouldn’t hit you. He didn’t before when you gave him cause. You have a plan and that will ease any anxiety he has over your decision. He just wants to see you settled and happy that’s all. It’s all we ever want for our children, to know when we die, they’re equipped to go on without us.”
Hana thought about her mother, Judith, dying without knowing if her daughter was equipped to go on without her. “I wasn’t,” Hana muttered. “I wasn’t equipped at all.” Hana’s anger was irrational, aimed at her mother because Judith still went, as though the poor woman could have halted the heart attack or delayed fate. Hana turned to stare at her baby’s car seat. By the time her daughter was testing her wings, Hana would be in her sixties. What if she couldn’t stay around for her? It was a sobering thought and the dawning reality of the claustrophobic two bedroom staff unit, with Tama squashed on the sofa, did nothing to ease her maudlin thoughts.
There was an unusual queue of traffic at the gate to St Bart’s and cars moved one at a time. Some were refused entry and sent back up the street past the waiting vehicles. Tama strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I dunno what’s going on.” He tried to see ahead, noticing the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle blocking the entrance. He glanced at Hana but she was clambering into the back seat to check on her daughter properly. “Nice bum,” he commented, fluffing his fringe in the rear view mirror.
“Shut up,” Hana replied. “I can’t wait until she can face forwards. I never know whether to sit with her or stay in the front.”
“She was fine, Ma,” Tama complained. “Don’t fiddle with her; it took ages to get her to sleep.”
“I couldn’t see properly but I can now. She’s fine.” Hana smiled, a proud, maternal beam.
Tama eyed Hana nervously, knowing she’d panic when she saw the emergency lights and assume something had happened to Logan. It was an instinctive reaction, hardly surprising after the knock on her front door nine years ago, which destroyed her world with a few short words. ‘We’re sorry, Mrs Johal, but your husband died this afternoon.’
Hana looked up and caught the flash of blue and red reflecting off the windows of the car in front. Her eyes widened and her face paled instantly. She looked at Tama and he saw the panic pass across her face. He knew even before she grappled with the door handle that she wouldn’t sit next to him and wait. “Stay in the car, Hana!” he barked, activating the central locking and knowing the child locks were on in the back. “Stop it!” He sounded angry, his command cutting through her fear like a knife. Her body heaved gulps of air as she froze, but her hand stayed on the door handle. “They won’t let you in, Ma. You need to sit here and let them deal with the cars. They’re letting staff through look, but turning away visitors.” He pointed at a vehicle further up as it moved through the blockade. “Here,” he offered, digging around in his jeans front pocket and handing her his cell phone. “Ring him.”
Hana stared at the phone and then at Tama, her heart thudding blood through her brain. She glanced at her baby, hearing the little ‘click, click’ sound as she sucked her tiny thumb. Then she looked at the phone again, her eyes showing panic as Tama slipped it back into his pocket. “Look,” he began, his tone reasonable, “if Uncle Logan hurt himself there’d only be an ambulance. This is massive. There are cops everywhere.”
The traffic stilled again as an outgoing vehicle slipped through the barricade, its sleek black tinted windows masking its purpose. Tama watched it slide past and shook his head. “That’s the undertaker, Hana. Someone’s died.” He reached behind and grasped both her shaking hands in his large left one. “Uncle Logan’s fine, otherwise Mr Blair would have rung one of us by now. It takes ages to process a body – you’d have heard if it was anything to do with us.”
“How do you know this stuff?” she asked, her voice husky and fearful.
“I just do. Once they find a body there’s heaps that goes on and it takes hours. It’s not Logan.” Tama withdrew his hand. “Do me a favour? Put your seatbelt back on please, otherwise this cop at the gate will waste time telling you off!”
Hana obeyed, quickly inserting the plug and clicking it shut. The little red seatbelt light on the dashboard stopped blinking and went back to sleep. A young woman at the gate wore her smart police uniform and anti-stab vest as though it was a fashion statement. She was a stunner, her dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and the deepest blue eyes Tama had ever seen on a hot girl. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying and kept his eyes strictly on her face with its peachy skin, flushed from the cold winter air and biting wind.
She smiled. “Can I ask your business on the site, please, sir?”
She leaned in the window, noticing Hana in the back seat. Tama tried not to breathe in the scent of her hair shampoo and alluring perfume. She made no attempt to entice him but it made it worse somehow. He held his breath and concentrated on the distant school buildings and tried to think about something nasty, horse crap, cow afterbirth, the smell of feet and unwashed boy in the PE sheds as they all got changed...
Tama was so intent on his repertoire of disgusting distractions he realised too late that the girl-cop was looking at him strangely. Hana fitted her purse back into her handbag and eyed him sideways with an amused look on her face. “Driver’s licence please, sir,” the cop said again. Tama dragged himself back from his alternate universe and pushed his fingers into his back pocket, a look of dismay drifting across his olive face.
“Oh, no!” Tama exclaimed. He got stopped a year ago by a motorway patrolman who gave him a warning for not carrying it on a routine stop. The guy was decent and hadn’t fined him and so Tama made a point of always carrying it. His jeans were too tight and his face flushed as he realised where it was.
“Erm...can I get out a minute?” he asked, his face beetroot red despite his tanned complexion. The cop stood back and Tama unwound his tall body from the driver’s seat and pushed himself out. He was taller than the girl by a head and she stared at the buttons of his checked shirt as he dug around in his other front jeans pocket. Her eyes flickered with amusement as he finally produced the small plastic card she required. He handed it over, keeping his grey eyes fixed on her face as she examined it. Her eyes flicked up once as she checked the photo against the man. Then she handed it back and smiled again, betraying nothing in her face.
“Thank you, Mr Du Rose,” she said pleasantly and flicked her hair in that way sexy women do, just by tossing their head. Then she walked to the vehicle behind them without a backward glance. Tama watched for a second, utterly captivated and then climbed back into the Honda. It made a dreadful noise as he forgot it was still running and turned the key again. Hana looked at him with indignation. “Sorry, sorry,” Tama said, pulling away in a jerky, kangaroo motion.
“Do I need to get the learner plates out again?” Hana asked, seeing the embarrassment on her nephew’s face. Her lips parted in surprise and she nibbled her lower lip at his telling glance in the rear view mirror. “Oh my gosh!” It dawned on her. “Did Tama Du Rose just fall in love?”
Tama looked away with a grumpy expression and muttered a swear word. He felt a peculiar rush of emotions and didn’t understand. “I’ve got enough problems right now, thanks, the first being to get Uncle Logan alone so I can do a mass confession and then run like the clappers!”
Hana snorted and Tama felt grateful she seemed more amused with his dilemma than frightened for Logan. He glanced in the mirror again at the long chocolate hair dancing in the wind and the neatly curved physique under the police issue uniform. He suddenly felt unusually vulnerable for a Du Rose.