Tama unloaded the Honda and put their bags into the staff unit. Hana left it tidy on Friday, so there was just putting away to do. She had become adept at switching location and it was finished within a few minutes. “I got Logan’s voicemail,” Hana said, her face pinched with concern. “I left him a message saying I hoped he was all right.”
“Don’t read anything into it,” Tama said with a sympathetic smile. “He’s probably teaching.”
Hana nodded and checked her watch. The police activity was concentrated on the boarding house and she fought her fluttering heart. Now she felt calmer, she knew Tama was right and if Logan was hurt, the lady-cop at the gate would have recognised the name on her driving licence and pulled her aside. “Du Rose isn’t a common name, is it?” she asked Tama for the tenth time and he smiled with infinite patience.
“No, Ma, it isn’t.”
Hana heard the lunchtime bell in the distance and a few minutes later, jumped at a knock on the door. With wide green eyes, she rushed over and wrenched it open in panic. Amanda stood on the step, her eyes alight with the scent of scandal and gossip. “Let me in,” she gushed. “I know what’s going on.”
Hana’s next door neighbour job shared with another teacher’s wife on a half day rotation as the principal’s personal assistant. It suited her following the scandal of her cheating husband’s departure; her confidence had doubled while her buxom figure halved. It also meant she knew everything that went on in the main building.
“Hey,” Hana greeted her, accepting her hug and standing back to let her in. “We haven’t been back long. I’ve been worrying about what’s going on, in case it’s Logan.” Hana’s brow knitted and she chewed her bottom lip in a fit of nervousness. It was killing her not rushing over to the boarding house and finding her husband. After the threats against Logan by Laval months earlier and the lengths Hana went to keeping him safe, she’d realised a deep-seated fear of losing him as she lost Vik almost a decade ago. What was the quote? ‘To lose one husband is accidental; to lose two is carelessness.’
Amanda shook her head and cruelly kept Hana waiting, taking over the small kitchen and pulling a sachet of soup from her handbag. She flicked the kettle on to boil and leaned her backside against the counter top. “I shouldn’t be gossiping,” she said with a naughty wink and Hana knew that she would anyway. “Logan’s absolutely fine, but he and Compo from the horticulture department found a body in the compost trench behind the boarding house. I answered the phone to Logan when he rang Angus. I thought he was snippy with me, but I guess it was understandable.” She pouted as though Logan’s temperament mattered to her.
“Whose body is it?” Hana asked her voice almost a whisper. “Is it someone we know?”
Amanda shrugged. “Dunno. The cops are in and out but Angus isn’t talking to anyone else. Parents have been ringing since morning teatime.”
“Poor Logan,” Hana breathed. “That must have been a terrible thing to find.”
“He sounded more annoyed than anything,” Amanda said with a toss of her long hair. Something in the way she said it made Hana bristle inwardly, sensing a possessiveness in the way she spoke about Logan.
“He might have been wound up,” Hana said, biting her lip.
“Probably. He’s usually so sweet to me,” Amanda said and smiled at Hana. “Oh, please could you send him round later? I’ve spent all weekend with the loft hatch banging in the wind.”
“I could probably stand on a kitchen chair and shut it,” Hana offered.
Amanda shook her head. “Thanks, but it’d be best if he did it. The bolt’s rusted, or I’d have done it myself.”
“They replaced them all when they renovated a few months ago,” Hana said, frowning as she tried to remember. “They did ours anyway.”
Amanda flapped her hand in Hana’s direction and turned to fill her mug with hot water, bashing the mixture with a teaspoon. “It’s fine. I’ve got some other bits I need doing.”
Hana watched her friend’s back with a sense of unease; she’d been here before with Caroline. Logan rolled his eyes every time Hana gave him one of Amanda’s requests for help. “I’m not the bloody maintenance man!” he snapped last time and Hana defended her friend, advocating for a woman who’d lost so much.
Amanda didn’t really know very much about the body in the compost heap, but spent half an hour speculating before it was time to get her daughter, Millie, from the nursery on Maui Street. Tama stayed out of the way while the women chatted, playing with Phoenix in Hana’s bedroom. Occasionally the sound of raspberries on a fat little tummy and excited baby giggles drifted through the tiny unit to the lounge. “Māori men are incredibly good with their children aren’t they?” Amanda said wistfully, generalising. She eyed the door hopefully but Tama didn’t appear.
“Not all of them,” Hana replied, thinking of Michael and Kane and a list of other Du Roses. Amanda ignored her wisdom.
“Maybe that’s what I need; a tall, good looking Māori guy who’s comfortable around children.”
Hana pulled a face and shrugged. “I don’t think you can go looking for love with a shopping list,” she muttered.
As Amanda breezed through the front door with a wave goodbye, Hana noticed the police activity seemed calmer at the boarding house. “I’m just nipping across to St Bart’s,” she called to Tama. “Please watch Phoe for a little while.” She heard his muted reply and walked briskly across the cricket and rugby pitch as a shortcut, looking over her shoulder for the officious Larry Collins who might be watching her boot heels march across the crease. Hana found her husband in the office on the ground floor. Housed in one way glass, the office enjoyed three unimpeded views of the corridors and served as a vantage point for misbehaviour. Boys were easily fooled into believing their antics were unseen. Unfortunately, Logan’s deputy manager had a tendency to use the inside as a grooming cubicle, picking his nose and belly button with abandon, whilst watching others walk past.
“Hey, Hana, how are you?” the sweet admin assistant asked as she passed the reception desk.
“Good thanks,” Hana replied. “Looks like you’ve had a busy day.”
The woman rolled her eyes under dark rimmed spectacles. “Yeah, you could say that.” She inhaled as the telephone trilled next to her hand and Hana smiled and set off down the corridor. She heard half of the conversation as she walked away. “No, none of our boys are in any danger; your son’s absolutely fine.”
Hana knocked and entered the office, finding her husband sitting in a swivel chair with his boot resting on the desk. His right hand moved a computer mouse silently over a pad, scrolling through a spreadsheet of names. “Hey, babe,” Hana said, her brain hard wired to detect trouble. “What’s going on?”
Logan’s smile revealed his tiredness. His hair stuck up on end where he’d run his hand continually through it and black waves flipped over his lashes. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed exhaustion. The phone rang on the desk next to him and he shook his head and ignored it.
“Mary looked like she was struggling too,” Hana said, jerking her head towards the phone. “It might be her.”
Logan shook his head. “It won’t be. She’s stopped putting them through; I can’t tell them anything different so what’s the point.”
“Parents?” Hana asked, feeling the urge to defend the army of men and women concerned for their precious children.
Logan nodded. “And journalists.”
The phone stopped and then began again, its irritating trill cutting the air like the sound of a wasp. Hana leaned across her husband and grabbed the handset. “St Bart’s office,” she said with a professionalism born of practice. Logan raised an eyebrow and slipped his hand up the back of her blouse, biting her lips as she tried to ignore him. “No, madam. No boys are in danger and the police are dealing with all information releases.” Hana paused to listen to the tearful mother on the other end of the line. She shivered as Logan’s hands worked forward until he cupped one of her full breasts in his palm, smirking at her with a lazy expression. The phone cord wouldn’t stretch enough for Hana to stand up, leaving her exposed to her husband’s sensual exploration. “Yes, I understand your son might be texting you, but he really doesn’t know anything. It’s honestly just teenage exaggeration. I’m sorry, I need to go,” Hana said, biting back a groan as Logan found his way into the maternity bra, discovering to his delight that it opened at the front. With a sigh of pleasure, he shamelessly caressed the breasts which spilled into his hand.
Hana replaced the handset and shoved her husband’s shoulder, grappling to contain herself in her gaping underwear. “You’re awful!” she exclaimed, squeaking in fright as a group of boys wandered past the window.
Logan laughed and rubbed his eyes, disappointment making him wrinkled his nose. “They can’t see you,” he said, running his hands over the back of his head. Hana pressed her shameless breasts back into the bra and fastened the clasp.
“You’ve got a headache,” she said, recognising the telltale signs as Logan pressed his temples.
“Yep,” he replied with a nod. “Hardly surprising after this morning.”
“Well, office sex is hardly the best cure,” Hana said, straightening her shirt.
“It might have helped.” Logan smirked and gave her a coy look.
“You’re a worry,” she replied. “I’ll give you a cuddle instead.” She slapped his boot to make him take his leg off the table and plonked herself in his lap, cuddling in to his strong body. She laid her head on his shoulder and allowed him to put his arms around her, jabbing him in the ribs when his hands wandered. The stress of the day seemed to melt away in the silence.
Hana jumped at a knock on the door, making Logan grunt as she elbowed him in the stomach. Bodie didn’t wait for an answer, turning the handle and opening the door without permission. He raised his eyebrows at Hana and turned to shut the door after him, looking disappointed to find she didn’t use the opportunity to stand up. “Tama said you were over here,” he said waving his arm in Hana’s general direction, but not looking at the couple. His face grew flushed as he stared at the notice board on the back wall. “We’ve cleared up, so it’s business as usual. I’m off now but Odering wants to see both of you.”
“Wants to have another little go at me, does he?” Logan said and Hana’s heart sank at the antagonism in his voice.
Bodie shrugged. “I’m not responsible for what he does; he’s the boss. It was pretty dumb to let the other guy puke all over the crime scene though, I know he’s upset about that.”
Logan shook his head and glared at Hana’s son. “Yeah, but being first on the scene you could see my difficulty. Thanks for standing up for me.”
“Oh, did you stand up for him?” Hana addressed her son, looking pleased.
“No, he didn’t!” Logan spat. “Joined in actually.”
Hana looked away from the men and closed her eyes, a familiar path opening up in front of her. Fantastic!
Bodie weathered the agony of watching his mother sitting on the strong, Māori’s knee but struggled to get eye contact. “Can Jas spend time with you tomorrow, Mum? I have an early shift and Amy on lates. His school has a teacher only day so we’re stuck.”
Hana saw his jaw work though his cheek, his eyes flashing with a darkness she didn’t like. “It’s fine,” she replied, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Will you drop him here?”
“Amy will,” Bodie said, looking relieved. “It’s only for a couple of hours during the crossover, about one o’clock until three at most.” He turned to leave and then glanced back, his teeth gritting at the sight of Logan caressing his mother’s thigh. “By the way, Odering’s acting inspector on this. He’s being picky about it, getting dirty at anyone who still calls him ‘sergeant.’ Just so you know.”
Logan’s face lit up with a smirk and Hana slapped his leg, knowing he’d do it deliberately to antagonise the policeman. “Hey, who was that police woman at the back gate?” she asked. “She’s very pretty.”
“Lucy,” Bodie answered. “She just broke up with her boyfriend and mentioned she saw a hot guy with you. I guess you’re asking for that nephew of yours?”
Hana nodded and opened her mouth to speak, cut off by Bodie’s abrupt warning. “She’s a nice girl; tell him to stay away.” Bodie left without glancing back, slamming the door behind him.
Hana sat and watched her son through the mirrored glass as he strode past reception. Heaviness weighed her down, feeling the bones of Logan’s thighs digging into her bottom. “You’ve both been play acting friendly to please me, haven’t you?”
Logan humphed and pulled a nasty face. “Yeah, Hana.” His tone was biting. “Your son’s a spoiled little jerk and I was happy to play along, despite his attitude, until this morning. Now he can go to hell.”
Hana leaned back so she could look into Logan’s face. He kept his eyes averted, but she sensed rage brewing under the surface, a steady rumble just before the earthquake began. “I don’t think he has a problem with you personally; I think it’s an issue of me being with you. He’ll get over it.”
Logan laughed outright, a nasty sound with no mirth in it. He pushed Hana gently off his lap and stood, indicating her visit was over. “Logan?” she asked, perplexed.
He moved to another desk in the corner and began sifting through papers, making a pretence of looking for something. Hana foolishly pressed him. “Logan, you’ve said it now. I can’t walk away without you finishing what you’ve started. I thought things were ok and it seemed better. He’d be like this with any new husband I chose; it’s not you.”
Logan rounded on her and she was alarmed by the misery in his face which went deeper than she realised. “But it’s one-sided, Hana, can’t you see that? I honoured the truce between us but he never intended to. I’m ‘the spare’ to him, not good enough to take over from the sainted Vikram Johal and I’m tired of being an undesirable addition who’s tolerated and utilised. I’m good enough to look after his kid when he’s desperate and he has to be really desperate, Hana. I love Jas, but his father’s a dick. I’ll never be welcome in his precious family and I’ve given up kidding myself.”
Hana had rarely seen Logan so upset, especially enough to expose his pain to her. “Did something happen?” she asked. “I don’t understand.” She tried to reach out to him but he dodged her outstretched hand and slammed a bunch of papers on the desk.
“I need to supervise dinner in the dining room.” Logan stormed from the office, leaving her standing there alone as the door whacked a cabinet and jarred on its hinges. Hana felt miserable.
“Great,” she muttered to herself. “And God help any boy who pushes you too far. They’ll be on detention so long, they’ll turn up with their wives and children.”
Hana left St Bart’s with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Arriving home she found Tama juggling Phoenix in one arm and a bowl of hot baby rice in the other. The baby grizzled as she smelled the disgusting cement-like mixture and wanted it. Hana took her and gave her a breastfeed while the rice cooled, squirming as she remembered the soft sensation of Logan’s fingers on her sensitive skin. “Tama Du Rose, you’ll make someone a lovely husband one day,” she sighed. “You’re incredibly capable.”
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m going to confess to Uncle Logan. I was just waiting for you to come back.”
“Oh, that’s a bad idea at the moment. He’s not in the best of moods and he’s supervising tonight’s food fight. Just leave it for now.” Hana grimaced at the thought of Logan’s anger. “We don’t need two dead bodies on site,” she joked, remembering Logan’s furious expression and trying to curb Tama’s misplaced heroism.
“I’ve seen the very best and worst of my favourite uncle; I’ll be fine. And if he’s wound up anyway, you won’t be able to blame me when he comes home angry.” He seemed philosophical and Hana feared for him.
She gave a huge sigh as the front door slammed and Phoenix stopped feeding and gave her a gummy smile. Hana laughed. “You know how to cheer me up, don’t you girlie?” she said and the child beamed. Hana fed her daughter the rice, giggling at the mess they made and then bathed her, breast fed her and put her into her cot. Phoenix sang to herself in bed and drifted off to sleep. Hana put the TV on but saw nothing. Bored, she rang her daughter in Invercargill on her mobile, only to get Marcus instead.
“Izzie’s at a church,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hana lied, hearing her son-in-law’s snuff of disbelief across the miles. She relented and confessed to the astute cleric. “Logan said something odd before, about Bodie not wanting him around and I wanted to ask Izzie if she knew anything about it.”
“Ah, tricky,” Marcus replied with a hiss. Hana sensed his conflict. He’d been Bodie’s best friend since the Johals arrival in New Zealand almost two decades ago. It was a difficult transition for the boys, going from best mates to brothers-in-law, but they survived it. Added to being Bodie’s friend, Marcus’ role as a pastor made it unlikely he would break her son’s confidence.
Hana huffed. “I’m wasting my time asking you, aren’t I?”
“Pretty much,” Marcus replied. “I’m sorry.”
Hana knew from experience it was futile pushing him further and asked after Izzie and the children instead. Marcus told her they were fine but stopped her as she said goodbye. “Hey, love,” he said, his tone gentle. “You’ve found yourself a great husband and Izzie and I are standing with you in this. Bo might take a while but until he accepts Logan, it’s his loss, Hana. He’s missing out, not you. You live your life, ok?”
“Thanks,” Hana said, feeling tearful as she ended the call. She rattled around the unit, hating Logan’s night duties. After eight years of sleeping alone, it took only days to get used to having someone in her bed. Since he took the boarding house job, each enforced absence at night was a trial. Eventually, she went to bed, dragging her feet and digging out an unfinished novel. She fell asleep reading and didn’t hear Tama’s return just after midnight.
Amy dropped Jas off at ten o’clock, three hours before Hana expected him. The child was wired, dragging a tiny bicycle from the boot of his mother’s car and wobbling all over the small road outside Hana’s unit. Amy was apologetic and Hana felt frazzled within ten minutes as Jas refused to come indoors and she couldn’t stay outside while Phoenix slept in her cot. Tama was off somewhere in Hana’s car and her patience with the child grew thinner by the hour.
Hana texted Logan, receiving nothing in reply, despite checking her phone repeatedly. She couldn’t rid herself of the feeling she was being punished, but didn’t understand what she’d done. Bodie was at the root of it somewhere.
Standing in the freezing cold by the front door watching the frantic child on his bike, Hana heard her baby cry inside and uncharacteristically lost her temper. As Jas ignored her call for the tenth time, she left the front door step and alarmed him by running up behind and putting her hands on his handlebars. “Off!” she shouted.
“No!” he whined, avoiding her grasping hand and backing away.
“Fine,” Hana snapped as Phoenix’s wail cut through the air, distress making her louder as Hana failed to appear. “I’ll take you over to Poppa Logan and let him tell you off. He’ll be very disappointed.” She lifted the bike in the air and stamped towards the unit.
“Ok,” Jas said, sounding hopeful. “Take me to Poppa, then. I love Poppa.”
“Get inside!” Hana told him throwing his bike into the hallway with a clang and wincing at the fury in the child’s face.
“Don’t throw my bike, Hanny! It’s naughty!”
“Get inside!” she demanded, hearing the hitch as Phoenix became hysterical. She made a lurch for Jas’ hand and held it in a vice like grip when he threatened to run away.
Hana latched the front door so he couldn’t reach and took the mortice key with her in her pocket, not trusting him. “Sit on that sofa and don’t move!” she said, hearing the nastiness in her tone and seeing the open dismay on the boy’s face. It wasn’t like her and fury pressed at the edges of her psyche.
Jas curbed his attitude a little when Hana returned with the baby, waiting patiently while she fed her. “I haven’t had lunch,” he informed her crossly. Hana had the overwhelming feeling of being taken advantage of, but tried not to take it out on the child. She made him a sandwich, ignoring his protests. “I don’t like bread, margarine, cheese or ham. Or plates,” Jas declared.
“Fine!” Hana bit, dumping it in the dustbin and slamming the empty plate on the side. She gritted her teeth. “Don’t eat it then.”
By the time Tama appeared, wearing a strange look on his face which resembling guilt, Hana was ready to scream. “What’s up, Ma?” he asked, hissing her on the top of her head.
“You can’t touch her!” Jas shouted, making Phoenix squeak in alarm. “She’s not yours, she’s ours!” He slapped Tama on the ribs and the teenager winced in pain.
“Sod off, shorty!” he spat, taking himself to the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with you?” Hana demanded, staring at the boy through eyes filled with disappointment and disgust. “I thought you were a nice boy but your behaviour today is horrid.”
“I am a nice boy,” Jas muttered. “But that Du Rose boy’s not a nice boy. He’s a passassite.”
“A what?” Hana leaned forward and asked Jas to repeat it, no nearer to understanding as he said the word over and over to the point of hysteria. She sighed and prayed for three o’clock to come quickly, saddened at a relationship which formerly sweet, was now soiled.
Hana let Jas draw on scrap paper while she occupied herself next to him, sorting through a biscuit tin containing photos and dividing them between Izzie and Bodie. Phoenix kicked her bare legs on the rug underneath Millie’s old baby gym. She couldn’t reach any of the objects but was willing to die trying. “I’m bored,” Jas declared, throwing the pencil across the room.
“Such a good job smacking is illegal in this country,” Hana muttered, maintaining a stony, impassive face as Jas wailed for the TV on and she refused. “Pick the pencil up, right now,” she told him and he reluctantly obeyed.
“Mummy says, or else,” he jibed and Hana narrowed her eyes and gave a twisted smile.
“I don’t have to make empty promises, Jas,” she said. “I’m so disgusted at your behaviour right now, I’m contemplating ringing your father.”
“But you said I could see Poppa Logan for a telling off.” The child’s face dropped into an ugly frown and his dark eyes clouded as a temper tantrum brewed.
“I don’t want my lovely husband to see you like this,” she replied. “It’d make him very sad and he’s got enough to worry about at the moment.”
“Are you gonna ring Daddy then?” Jas taunted and pushed to her natural limit. Hana nodded and pulled out her phone.
“Yep.” She unlocked the keypad and searched for Bodie’s number as his son became apoplectic.
“No, no!” he wailed. “Please don’t do it. I wanted Poppa, not Daddy. I’ll be good, I promise.”
Hana watched the devious child through narrowed eyes, seeing more of her son in him than she cared for. She stared at him while he begged and cried, real tears running down his olive face. Hana leaned forward. “Last chance,” she warned him. “Because I’m telling you, I’ve had enough!”
Jas decided to sit on Hana’s knee and ‘help’ her sort the photos. It meant she sorted them and he mixed them up even faster. “Please leave them alone, Jas. Look at them without touching,” she said, sounding tired. A nice snapshot of Vik holding a baby Izzie was blighted by a greasy thumb print and a blob of bogey.
Tama shuffled through to the lounge, his hair sticking up from an impromptu sleep on Hana’s bed. He glared at the boy sideways. Oblivious, Jas pointed for the hundredth time to a photo of Vik. “Who’s that?”
“Your granddad,” Hana replied, almost at exploding point.
Jas cocked his head, considering something before letting loose with an episode of whinging. “Nooooooo, Poppa Logan’s my granddad! This one must be the spare one.”
Hana’s head whipped round so hard she heard her neck click. “What did you say?” Something Logan said the night before resonated in Hana’s brain. He referred to himself as, ‘the spare.’ Hana took a deep breath and calmed herself, knowing from experience Jas wouldn’t tell her anything if she probed openly. “What’s a ‘spare’?” she asked softly, putting emphasis on the final word.
“It’s when,” Jas began, settling himself in for a lengthy description like an old man telling a tale. “It’s when you’ve already got a daddy and someone gives you another one you don’t want. Like my Dad had one and then he got another one. But he doesn’t want it.” He looked Hana square in the eye with a sad look in his face. “But I like Poppa Logan bestest. I don’t know this other one and I don’t want him.” Jas picked up the spoiled photo and put it face down on the table. Then he chuckled and looked happier. “See, he’s gone now. Bye bye spare granddad.”
Hana put both hands over her face, her son’s utter cruelty revealed. Logan was right; the truce for her sake was one-sided. She felt devastated. Peeping through her fingers at Tama, she saw his teeth gritted in the characteristic Du Rose-pissed-off-face and couldn’t blame him. She felt overwhelmingly ashamed of her son and no words could excuse the damage he’d done. Hana was careful not to blame the child for repeating his father’s words but he obviously used the phrase liberally enough at home and worse, had explained it to the child.
“Why don’t we go out in the car somewhere, anywhere?” Tama suggested, seeing Hana’s faint nod of acquiescence. “Get your coat on,” he said to Jas, his authoritative tone rewarded by immediate obedience.
They settled on Hamilton Gardens so Jas could ride his little bike while Hana pushed Phoenix in the pram. Tama agreed to come. A group of police officers stopped traffic on the gate again, this time asking drivers and passengers to account for their whereabouts over the weekend and if they’d seen anything suspicious. As Tama drew up to the gate, he was confronted by the female police officer. He blushed to a heated shade of red.
Jas sat on a booster seat in the front next to Tama, with Hana in the back by her baby. Tama buzzed the driver’s window and tried to keep calm as his hormones raged. Hana permitted herself a small smirk and a wink at her baby, who smiled sweetly back at her.
“Hello!” Jas piped up loudly and the police woman smiled indulgently at him. “Tama likes you,” he started, glancing back at Hana as she said his name in warning, wondering how the child seemed to know this stuff. The cop looked embarrassed, but Jas hadn’t finished disgracing himself. “I’m gonna be a pimp when I grow up.” The police lady looked shocked, gulping as Tama groaned. “Yes, like on Miami Vice. I’m gonna have a really big gold med-lion round my neck and lots of girls. You can call me Poof Daddy.” Jas made his eyes bug wide and looked like a maniac.
Tama looked to at Hana for help and she intervened from the back seat. “We were up at our other house near Huntly for the weekend,” she said. “My husband wasn’t rostered on so we left the site.”
“Ah, Du Rose.” The cop made the connection and looked at Tama with renewed interest.
“Do you want addresses and phone numbers?” Hana asked, “in case you need to check?”
The woman nodded and jotted down their details. “So you live here during the week?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” Hana breathed, covering her mutterings with a nod and a smile. “We get away as often as we can. There was a soccer game here on Saturday morning but most of the team arrived as a group so I guess we all alibi each other.”
“Do you think you need an alibi?” the cop allegedly named Lucy asked.
Tama’s blush reached the backs of his ears and he shook his head, very much out of his depth. “Er...I don’t think so,” he said, a falter in his speech.
“Cool then, thanks.” Lucy waved them on and Tama clumped on the gas, causing the wheels to screech in his haste to get away. Hana put her head back against her seat and wondered if the day could get any worse.
At the gardens, Jas belted around on the two-wheeled bike, getting underfoot with tourists and gardeners alike. “At least I’m burning calories,” Hana puffed, trying to look on the bright side.
“You don’t need to,” Tama reassured her. “If you get any thinner you’ll drop down storm drains.”
Hana paused, nodding and holding her chest. Tama took his eyes off the two-wheeled maniac and caught hold of the pram handle. “You ok?”
She nodded and glanced up at Jas as he wobbled around the side of Turtle Lake. “Just catching my breath,” she gasped. “I’m unfit.” She pointed her index finger as the child wavered far too close to the edge. “Just grab that boy for me, please.”
“You nearly fell in, kid!” Tama said, hauling Jas back to Hana by the arm. The small bike dangled from his hand, making the veins in his biceps stand out.
“I need a coffee,” Hana conceded. “And a sit down.”
In the cafe, Jas whined for chips, pie and ice cream, which he didn’t get. Tama dealt with him to Hana’s relief. “Muffin or nothing,” he told the boy, his voice emotionless and not caring either way. Hana gave Phoenix a covert feed under her fleece.
“Did you ever behave like that?” Hana asked as Tama sat Jas on a seat and told him not to move. The child eyed him sideways and capitulated, knowing he meant it.
“Not if I still wanted skin on my backside,” Tama said, sitting next to Jas and trapping the child between the adults. “I just made up for it when I was older because by then nobody cared.”
Arriving back at the school site, it was a relief to find the cops gone from the gate but Bodie waited outside the front door in his car. Jas kicked up a fuss when Tama transferred the bicycle from the Honda’s boot to Bodie’s. “Tama,” Hana whispered, “please would you mind taking Jas to the swings with Phoenix for a little while?” She jerked her head towards Bodie and Tama nodded. He loaded the sleeping baby from the car seat into the pram and strode towards the playground, shooting a withering look in Bodie’s direction.
“What’s with the cuckoo?” Bodie asked as Hana unlocked the front door and gathered Jas’ stuff together. She couldn’t trust herself to speak until the brimming lahar of hot lava in her chest was under more control. “You trust that parasite with your kid?” he pressed and Hana bit hard on the inside of her mouth.
She handed her son the envelope of photographs and he peeked inside with an interested look on his face. Hana watched him but his face remained closed. Rage bubbled in her chest and she wrestled the urge to shout at him, knowing it would end in an argument.
“Has he been good?” Bodie asked conversationally, dropping the envelope as though it didn’t matter.
“Not really,” Hana replied. Bodie shrugged with disinterest, making Hana even crosser. “If you’re interested,” she said, a bite in her voice, “your son listens to everything you say, even when it’s not for his ears. This afternoon, we’ve been entertained by a complete repertoire of inappropriate action movies which he apparently watches with you.” Hana proceeded to reel off a list. “He informed a colleague of yours he’s going to be a pimp when he grows up, like on Miami Vice and he knows all the lingo.” Bodie swore, but Hana wasn’t finished. “Apparently you refer to my husband as ‘the spare,’ plus other derogatory terms which I have more dignity than to repeat. Your insults seem more cutting coming from the mouth of a baby.”
Bodie had the decency to look guilty and slumped down on a dining chair. He should have run away like he usually did; like she expected him to. “So,” she asked her son, “what’s your problem with my husband? And let’s not forget Tama - the cuckoo or is it the parasite?”
Bodie rubbed his hand over his eyes. Then he answered, “Logan’s not Dad.”
“No,” came Hana’s swift retort. “But we’ve had this conversation before and Logan’s faithful, for a start!”
Bodie gritted his teeth and bit back any answer which might have escaped his lips, choosing silence as the safer option. Angry, black bile leaked from Hana’s psyche and and wouldn’t be stopped. “How dare you?” she half-shouted. “You use me to child mind Jas - you even used Logan last week when I wasn’t here. He took your son to his senior English class to help you out and then you continue bad mouthing the man, using awful names which your son repeats to anyone who’ll listen. Who the hell do you think you are? He’s been nothing but kind and sweet to you and Izzie and this is how you repay him?” Hana felt the pounding of blood surging into her head and chest and ignored it, pacing the tiny lounge like a caged beast.
Bodie kept his head down but his jaw worked furiously. “He gave Izzie a fifty grand car. He likes her and Marcus.”
Hana tossed her red hair and it formed a livid haze around her head. “What car?” she spat. “And it’s beside the point. People don’t show their regard by giving you money or things. I didn’t bring you up to think that. Besides which, Logan booked your wedding reception and honeymoon at his hotel, free of charge! How mercenary and money grabbing can you get? I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed of you than I am right now! You’re nothing but a spoiled brat with an ungrateful streak which makes me feel physically sick!”
Hana picked up her cell phone and dialled the hotel reception and without giving her name, enquired about the cost of a wedding reception, including invited guests staying in the best hotel suites; the package Logan offered as a gift. Bodie watched his mother while she wrote down a figure and thanked the receptionist, hoping the woman hadn’t recognised her voice.
She threw the paper onto the table in front of her son. “There you go,” she said. “That was ‘the spare’s’ wedding gift to you.”
Bodie gulped and his face lost its spiteful edge. He pushed the paper back across the table towards her. “Sorry,” he said, biting his lip.
“You will be,” she said with steel in her voice, “because you’ll now be paying it. I won’t allow you to abuse my husband’s good nature anymore. Find the money or cancel the wedding reception. I’ll leave you to explain to your fiance and if I ever hear your son refer to ‘the spare’ again in any context, you and I are will seriously fall out.” Hana thumped the table between them with the flat of her hand, feeling her bones sting. “You might not like my life choices, Bodie Johal, but that’s exactly what they are, my life choices!” She stood upright and pointed at the door. “Oh and find another idiot to child mind for free in future because I’m sick and tired of getting nothing in return from you but misery. And just so you know, Logan knows what you call him and is hurt.” Her green eyes blazed like emeralds. “I guess Jas informed him when he babysat for you at short notice again last week. It was probably out loud during his Year 12 English class too, just to add to the humiliation. So if you want to continue having a relationship with me, I suggest you grow up!”
Hana swung on her heel and opened the front door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m worn out. Your son was hard work for me and the parasite, which you’d know if you paid him any quality attention. Goodbye.”
Hana held the door open while her son walked nervously past her.
“Oh,” she said abruptly, running back and seizing the envelope of photographs from the table. “Don’t forget your wonderful memories will you. I wouldn’t like you to miss out on reminiscing over the lovely life you think we had!”
As Bodie reached the bottom step, Hana slammed the door after him and burst into tears, crying until she was sick. Tama returned with her baby and found her inconsolable in the bathroom, having used up a whole roll of toilet paper. “Oh, Ma,” he whispered, kneeling down and balancing the baby on his hip. Phoenix took swipes of Hana’s hair, yanking handfuls of it and trying to put it in her mouth.
Hana fed her daughter under her shirt, grateful for the simple maternal pleasure of giving sustenance without rejection. Phoenix beamed and flapped the shirt over her face, playing more than feeding. Tama plonked a cup of tea in Hana’s hand and took the baby, winding her over his shoulder and smiling at her contented singing. “He’s gonna screw that kid up,” Tama declared.
Hana nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“When we were at the swings, Jas started crying. He adores Uncle Logan and hates his rapid slide down the food chain. He doesn’t understand but knows his dad hates even the mention of Logan’s name. Apparently Bodie and Amy argue about his attitude all the time; stupid idiot doesn’t recognise security and happiness when it’s in his hands.” Tama sounded wistful and Hana reached out and stroked his thigh, balancing her cup on the arm of the sofa.
“I don’t know what to do,” she breathed. “But yelling at him and throwing him out probably didn’t help.”
Tama smiled. “You’re a helluva woman, Hana Du Rose. Uncle Logan’s lucky to have you.”
Hana wrinkled her nose. “Not really. A mother’s supposed to back her children first. I never understood women who took the step parent’s side over the child.”
“He’s not a child!” Tama sounded incredulous. “I totally agree if you’re a mum with small kids who don’t like their step dad but Hana, he’s twenty five years old!”
“Twenty six,” Hana acknowledged. “Fair point.”
“Hell yeah.” Tama patted the baby’s back and listened to her suck her fist.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night. How did it go with Logan? I don’t think he’s talking to me.” She sounded sad and pursed her lips together.
“Don’t be daft. He’s very distracted by the body in the veggie plot and his row with you. He was philosophical about me leaving college but I decided not to rock the boat by telling him I took you to see your father.” He winced and his eyes implored her with the impossible.
Hana sighed, wondering how the Du Roses attracted so many damaging secrets purely by default. “You know I’ll have to tell him eventually,” she said. “I always think I’ll be able to keep secrets from him but I can’t survive that way. He’s like a human lie detector.” Hana patted Tama’s thigh. “Don’t worry though; I’ll take the blame and say I made you.”
Hana played with her daughter, fed her more rice and a breastfeed, bathed and dressed her and laid her in her cot before six o’clock. There was still no sign of Logan and her heart grew heavy. Tama watched TV and made himself tea. Hana wasn’t hungry and laid on the double bed, praying over her dire circumstances and complicated relationships, eventually dropping into a miserable sleep. She dreamed she was riding in a shaky boat and it tipped. She grappled for the side but it kept tipping. Fearful of the dark water below, she held onto something and heard it complain as she dug her nails in. Hana heard her name called as she plunged into the cold, murky waters and recognised Logan’s voice. Swimming hard to reach the surface, she found air and light, gasping and panicking as she realised she wasn’t drowning. She struck out with her arms, hearing herself whimper as Logan’s strong arms pinned her to the bed and she held on tightly, waiting for the pounding of her heart to stop being so painful in her chest and ears. “I couldn’t save myself,” she sobbed.
“It’s ok,” Logan said and Hana tried to believe it would be.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted and he soothed her, telling her it didn’t matter. “I didn’t know,” she sobbed, “I didn’t know he called you that.”
Logan stroked her hair and his kindness made Hana cry harder. After a while she felt awake enough to hold a rational conversation but in the light from the bedside table lamp, noticed the blood on the front of Logan’s expensive shirt.
“What happened?” she cried, seeing it on his chin and cheek.
“It’s fine,” he soothed, “I just had a hell of a nosebleed and couldn’t leave until it stopped. I think it was the pressure in my head and from keep taking that medication for the blood disorder. They said I was overusing it and I think this is what happens. I’m fine. I’ve got a headache, that’s all.”
Hana stroked his cheek in concern and gently kissed the jagged scar under his right eye which started it all. The spiteful gossip of Ethel Bowman about Logan’s injury made Hana cross enough to throw caution to the wind and sit next to the new head of English after a particularly bad morning. “I love you,” she said. “Bo’s an arse; I told him so.”
Logan shook his head. “You shouldn’t have,” he said, his voice level. He’d made a skill of not getting between Hana and her children and it looked as though he’d done it anyway. “It’s how he feels,” Logan said gently. “But hearing he calls me that just accentuated how I feel.”
Hana sat up and looked at her husband in amazement. “Seriously? I never made you feel like a spare anything.”
“Not intentionally.” He struggled to qualify his comment. “But I don’t talk about my ex-girlfriends or Caroline because you wouldn’t appreciate it. Yet I have to face your marriage to Vik every single day. He’s in photos around the house and your memories of the last twenty odd years relate to him. I don’t want to see his influence on your life any more than you want to see Caroline’s on mine, but I get reminded constantly. When Bodie and Izzie are here, I see his face in theirs and when you talk about their childhood, there he is again. If I talked about Caroline half as much as you talk about him, you’d have an absolute fit! It makes me feel jealous and insecure. It can’t be helped but I’m struggling to find my place at the moment. Getting Bodie into trouble last year didn’t help matters and I know he’s suspicious of me, no matter what I do. It’s why I’m so happy at the hotel because Vik can’t come with us there.” Logan sat up and ran his hand across his top lip. A line of blood transferred to the back of his fingers. It was fresh.
Hana didn’t know what to say. It felt like a knotted ball of knitting wool. She didn’t know which strand to pull first to undo the mess. “I get it,” she said to her husband softly. “I totally get it.” She put her arms around his neck, feeling him relax underneath her. The blood from his nose seemed to respond to the sudden calm and stemmed. Hana kissed her husband with tenderness, getting his blood on her cheek, feeling the wetness but not caring. “I love you, Logan Du Rose,” she said into his ear. “I didn’t know what real love was until I met you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in my lifetime and I won’t stand by and listen to you being denigrated by anyone.”
Logan smiled but his face held fear. He didn’t want Hana to choose between her children and him, instinctively knowing he’d be the loser. “Don’t worry about Bodie,” he said generously, “let him thrash it out. He’ll come round eventually. I’ve known what he thought for a while and mostly I don’t let it bother me. It must be hard for him.”
Hana shook her head. “No,” she replied. “He needs to grow up. I’ve withdrawn your kind gift of the wedding reception at your hotel. That will bring him to his senses, ungrateful boy! I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he breaks the news to Amy that his mouth just cost him twenty five grand! I’m sorry, Logan, but I’m so sick of him lately. I think it was a mistake him moving back to Hamilton. I didn’t realise how much he took advantage when I was on my own. It was always on his terms and we keep coming back to that same fact, over and over again; I’ve had enough.”
“Izzie’s lovely,” Logan tried to say, putting a positive slant on the discussion. But it took the conversation down a route he hadn’t banked on.
“Yeah, about that,” Hana piped up, “Bodie said something about a car.”
Logan sank into the sheets and groaned, pushing his face into the pillows and leaving a trail of blood that would be difficult to remove.