Du Rose Sons

by Bowes, K T

  Hana woke surprisingly late, feeling the rays from a watery sunshine filtering through the blinds. The sofa was extremely comfy within its stated purpose, but as a bed, it was poor. Hana resembled an old woman as she shuffled through to her bedroom to use the toilet. The room was empty and the bed neatly made. Logan had already gone. Hana felt ready tears pricking at the edges of her eyelids and fought them. Last night had taken her by surprise, drawing a characteristic defence reaction from her, borne from years of living with Vikram Johal. He had married her out of duty, not love and their marriage had reflected that throughout. Hana had never felt good enough to be his wife, ever grateful that he didn’t leave her pregnant and alone, but it hadn’t been what he wanted. His affair had lasted a full year before death robbed him of a planned escape from the drudgery of marriage to Hana. She had been blissfully unaware. Visiting the day after Vik’s funeral, his mistress had informed Hana of their plan and it broke her. She knew then she wasn’t - and had never been, good enough. “I promised myself I wouldn’t put up with this again,” she chided her reflection in the ensuite mirror. “So now it’s time to make good on that promise. You’re better than this, girl!”

  Hana splashed with her daughter in the wide corner bath, putting the jets on and enjoying the freedom of their nakedness in the bubbles. After a late breakfast, Hana readied herself and the child for a visit to the hotel at the bottom of the mountain, determined to find out what had happened to detonate her life into smithereens. If Logan wasn’t going to tell her, then Leslie would have to.

  “Gone!” Phoenix stated, in a matter of fact tone.

  Hana stood under the front porch holding her daughter’s hand and staring at the empty space where she had parked the black truck the night before.

  “Poop,” the child added, pointing to a large horse dump in the middle of the space where the car was meant to be.

  “Stay there!” Hana ordered her daughter, plonking Phoenix on the ornate bench outside the front door and walking out onto the crushed grass. She looked around the huge garden. Sacha’s downy head poked up from around the water tank and she moved gracefully towards Hana, eager to see if the woman had anything nice in her pocket.

  Hana gave a heavy sigh and looked back at the little girl, swinging her legs casually on the bench. “Daddy took the car.”

  “Horsey!” Phoenix cried in excitement as Sacha’s regal head came into view next. “Horsey for me!” Phoenix clambered down from the bench by rolling onto her stomach and approached Sacha, fully aware of the kind of respect demanded by these creatures. Sacha obligingly dropped her head so that Phoenix could stroke her forelock. “Ride horsey,” she said, as though there was no difficulty with the swap.

  “I’m four months pregnant and you’re not two yet,” Hana sighed. “And even though Dad’s saddle is probably in the garage, I can’t lift it, let alone get it on her.” Hana drew her cell phone from her pocket. “Maybe Nonie will come get us.”

  “No, horsey!” Phoenix insisted, pouting and knitting her brows at her mother.

  “Absolutely not,” Hana replied.

  Her cell phone had no signal and Hana messed around, persuading Phoenix to come back inside. The house phone, nothing more than an intercom with the hotel, gave a prolonged busy signal. Logan had allowed a national phone company to put a cell phone mast on the top of the mountain nearest theirs, but there had been nothing but problems with it ever since. It failed more than it worked, unable to cope with the extreme weather conditions. Hana rested her forearms on the kitchen counter and lay her head on them, trying to stem the frustration that built in her. She needed to get down to the hotel. “I can’t get hold of Nonie, Phoe,” Hana spoke into the empty kitchen. The thought of explaining her evening to Leslie sent an ashamed shiver down Hana’s spine.

  “Oopsie!” The clatter brought Hana out of her despair as her daughter chased a white riding hat around the smooth surface of the hall floor. She managed to wedge it onto her head and held up her chin for Hana to close the fastener. Phoenix had been five weeks old the first time her father lifted her up onto the white mare and Hana had found it hard to keep silent. Only the fact that Logan grieved for his mother and birth father had stilled her tongue but after that, she insisted the child wear a helmet. It was pointless banning the hazardous activity in a family full of ranchers. Alfred had chuckled, “Logan rode bareback at three years old and mustered cattle at five.”

  Insistence on the helmet proved a masterstroke as it only recently began to fit, although Hana knew Logan must have disobeyed her and put the baby up on numerous occasions without her knowledge. Walking down the mountain would take more than an hour, especially pushing the pram. Willing to risk it, Hana then discovered the pram was in the back of the truck Logan had taken. It seemed she was left with no choice.

  Sacha was gentle and considerate as Hana fixed the halter around her face and hoisted the child up onto her withers. Poor Hana had to discard all the usual paraphernalia that she carried, taking only her purse, door key and useless cell phone, futilely protecting her skull with Miriam’s old Jillaroo hat. Phoenix held tightly to a clump of mane, looking like a professional jockey. Growing up around large stock animals, she knew not to scream or behave unpredictably. “Come up, mama,” she said with encouragement as Hana heaved herself onto the mare’s back, using the top rail of the wooden fence as a mounting block. The ridge of Sacha’s bony spine felt uncomfortable between Hana’s legs and she wriggled around, trying to get a more solid seat.

  Hana aimed for the road using the halter rope one handed to guide the mare, but Sacha didn’t want to walk on the metal and set off towards the bush. Hana had massive misgivings until she relaxed, telling herself that Sacha was perfectly able to find the quickest way home. Bred in the mountains, she had traversed every inch of them. They emerged in the paddock above the hotel in less than half an hour. The mare picked a steady downhill slope, winding her way carefully through the mountain and arriving without mishap. Rawhiti was checking on the pregnant brood mares close to the stables and came to open the gate, just as Hana wondered how on earth she was going to stay mounted, hold onto the baby and undo the metal catch.

  “Jack was just about to come up,” he said, looking confused as he surveyed the incongruous scene. “Logan said he left her up at the house and there was something wrong with her. He asked Jack to go and take a look. She was acting real vicious and turned her backside on him. Mind you, that’s nothing unusual for her, is it?” He smirked and then stepped back as Sacha flattened her ears to her head and snaked her neck spitefully in his direction. The dark eye nearest Hana was closed in anticipation and the woman fancied that the horse was smiling.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her.” Hana’s tone was sharp and Rawhiti closed the stable yard gate and kept silent. Sacha plodded obediently over to the kauri table, once beautiful but now a mounting block and allowed Hana to deposit herself on the top of it without grace. Her legs ached and constant contact with the knobbly spine had made her want to pee. Phoenix had surprisingly fallen asleep and grumbled as she was lifted off the horse and handed to Rawhiti. “Sacha needs her breakfast,” Hana said, putting authority into her voice to stem the threatening meltdown. “We need to get her feed ready.”

  Phoenix kept her hat on as Hana read the ingredients for Sacha’s feed out loud, off the blackboard in the feed room and helped the child carry the bucket back to the horse. Rawhiti had tied her up in the yard and dodged the threat of a kick as he tried to groom the sweat out of her girth area. The riding hat was a bit too big and Phoenix kept pushing the peak out of her eyes as she fed the unpredictable mare by hand. Sacha munched happily, careful with her teeth on the tiny fingers. “I’ll do it, Rawhiti.” Hana took the curry comb from the reluctant groom’s hand and brushed the furry stomach and flanks in brisk, capable movements.

  A tension descended on the stable yard with frightening speed, dousing all sense of safety and comfort. It was so sudden that it caused Hana to look up. Rawhiti l
ooked awkwardly towards the stable office, where Jack leaned heavily against the doorframe shaking his wizened old head. Confused, Hana thought at first it was aimed at her, until she heard Phoenix say, “Daddy.”

  Hana’s head whipped around, her eyes meeting the steel grey of Logan’s. He looked at Sacha and then at his wife, betrayal oozing out of every fibre of his being. His gaze took in Phoenix, constantly pushing the riding hat out of her eyes and carrying her head at an upturned angle and it was obvious he knew he had missed out on a big moment in his daughter’s development. Hana opened her mouth to speak, possibly to apologise but then closed it again. Logan was not alone.

  “Logan darling, I had no idea you owned all this.” The blonde woman hung from his arm, one slender hand threaded through his elbow while the other stroked his muscular bicep. Hana gaped at the obscenity, the stupid thought flashing across her brain, Logan hates to be touched. But obviously not by this woman. The blonde hair looked perfectly coiffed and piled on top of an elegantly shaped head in a beautiful knot, allowing for tendrils to curve around an attractive, sensual face. A decent covering of makeup was neatly applied to disguise her forty plus years but the woman was charismatic and pretty, getting away with it effortlessly. She was taller than Hana and had an easy grace which made the other woman feel frumpy and awkward.

  “Logan and I knew each other in London,” the woman simpered with a smile that revealed perfect teeth. “It’s so good to be back together.” To Hana’s horror, the woman lifted herself up on the toes of her high heeled shoes and planted a kiss, intended for Logan’s cheek. He was so tall that it ended up near his jawline but left Hana in no doubt as to the nature of their former relationship. Worse, it had evidently been rekindled.

  Hana heard her own sharp intake of breath at the same time as Logan squatted down and beckoned to his daughter. Confused by the presence of the stranger and more so by her proximity to Phoenix’s daddy, she refused to come, pushing her hat back on her head and hiding behind Hana’s legs in apparent shyness. It was so unlike her that Hana finally woke up. The stable yard was eerily silent and Hana felt the eyes of the yard workers drilling into the back of her head. Maternal instinct screamed at her to remove Phoenix from the horrid situation and Hana reacted, quickly handing the comb back to Rawhiti and hoisting her daughter onto her hip. She nodded curtly to the woman, ignored her unfaithful husband and turned on her heel, leaving the stable yard at a steady pace.

  “Is that your horse then?” the woman’s English accent cut through the silence. “How quaint that you use them as transport here.”

  Hana gritted her teeth and headed for the mudroom, managing to hold herself together until she got there.

  Chapter 8

  Phoenix was difficult, refusing to take off the riding hat but unable to see properly to walk upstairs in it either. Hana ended up carrying her up the back spiral staircase to the middle floor and then up the next level to Alfred and Leslie’s apartment over the west wing of the house.

  “What have we here?” Alfred said with a good-natured smile as Phoenix make a drunk looking beeline towards him and Hana stood at the top of the stairs and detonated. “Leslie!” he shouted in panic, as Hana put both hands over her eyes and heard her own sobs dragging themselves from her chest in sickening, ragged breaths.

  Strong arms surrounded her body as Leslie’s heavy but surprisingly nimble footsteps reached her and she heard the woman say, “Bastard,” as she buried Hana’s wet face in her ample bosom and confirmed her very worst fears.

  Hana cried pathetically until there was nothing left except a ringing in her ears and a bone weary exhaustion. Alfred occupied Phoenix in the lounge while Leslie comforted her mother in the large master bedroom overlooking the boundary fence from its high vantage point. “Oh God,” Hana wept, “what’s wrong with me? Not again.”

  “Hush child,” Leslie’s anger was open and filled with violence. “Don’t say that. You don’t deserve none of this!”

  When Hana reached a point of utter numbness and even the waterfall of tears had finished, Leslie went to make her a cup of tea. Hana laid on her side on the wide bed, watching the bush through the long French windows which in summer, led onto a tiny balcony. Hana wondered absently if this was Miriam’s bed, or if Alfred and Leslie had bought another, preferring to start again rather than lay on an adulteress’ mattress. What did it matter? They were in their seventies. Perhaps it was no longer important.

  It wasn’t Leslie who brought the drink, but Alfred. He laid it on the bedside table but to Hana’s surprise, he didn’t leave. He set his rangy frame down gently on the bed next to Hana’s prone body and stroked her hair with gnarled, work-worn hands. “Leslie told me,” he said without preamble. “Apparently she turned up last night looking for him. They had dinner in the restaurant and talked until late. Then he came back to see her this morning.”

  “He ate in the restaurant?” Hana sat up and turned towards her father-in-law. She heard Leslie sigh from the doorway.

  “I wasn’t gonna tell her that part,” she chastised her husband. “She cooked for the good-for-nothing...” She tutted instead of adding the colourful swearword on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know what that stupid man’s playing at, risking everything for some English gold-digger who turns up like that. He needs a good slap!” Leslie looked pointedly at Alfred.

  Hana rubbed at her puffy, swollen eyes. She had been here before and the taste felt bitter on her tongue. “So, she’s staying here then?” Both adults were silent and Hana looked from one to the other. “Where is she staying?”

  Leslie looked away and it was Alfred who answered her, “Downstairs. In his old room.”

  Hana felt bile rise up into her throat and wasn’t sure she could prevent its escape. Logan had installed the woman in the room they used when they stayed over at the hotel. She was sleeping in their bed, in full view of the hotel staff, possibly even with him. She worried at her thumb nail and tried to take it all in. It had all happened so fast that she struggled to process the differences between yesterday and today. “Where’s Phoe?” She remembered her daughter with a fresh injection of guilt.

  “She’s fallen asleep on the hearth rug,” Leslie reassured her.

  “She saw the woman all over Logan.” A tear trickled down Hana’s cheek and dived onto the bedspread, surprising her as she thought they were all gone. “She was hanging off him and...kissing him and it freaked Phoe out.” Hana struggled for composure and felt a wave of gratitude at Leslie’s obvious fury on her behalf.

  The old lady pursed her lips so hard that they disappeared and her jaw worked frantically through the skin of her cheeks. The woman’s brown eyes flashed with latent danger. “Why don’t you and the mokopuna stay here with us?” she offered.

  Hana was shocked by the sarcastic laugh that escaped from her body. “What and have to see them coming out of our bedroom together and going down for breakfast hand in hand? No thanks. I don’t know where I’m going but I am not staying here.”

  “You’re not leaving!” Logan’s voice was harsh and raised, making everyone in the room jump. He stood in the doorway flexing his fingers angrily and his grey eyes flashed hard as granite.

  Hana felt the fight return in a welcome wave and she turned her face determinedly away from her husband.

  “You’re going nowhere,” Logan said again, irritated by the silence. He took two long strides into the room, his body rigid. Hana sensed an incredible calm descend on her and was grateful for the peace that accompanied it. She said nothing, keeping her gaze fixed on the track that Miriam had worn along the side of the property - the old boundary. They always thought it was the stock, tramping a well-worn track to higher grazing, but for forty years it had been Logan’s unfaithful mother, wearing a path to her brother-in-law’s bed. Hana smiled a serene, Madonna-like smile and felt her soul link with Alfred’s, the husband who had been second-best. Like me. Only I’ve been second-best twice, Hana thought, refusing to allow depression to gather any more o
f her soul into its black bosom.

  “Get out!” Leslie broke the silence first, issuing her order with authority and mana.

  Logan sneered at her. “This is my house. You forget yourself, woman!”

  Hana felt the bed shake as Alfred rose from it. He was wiry and spare, a tall strong man stripped bare by life and circumstance. He raised his bent body to its full, impressive height and stared his wife’s bastard eye to eye. “If you want it,” he waved his arm to take in the long wing, the rooms bisected by dividing walls that didn’t reach the apex roof and the old-fashioned, worn out decor. “Take it. We can be gone by tomorrow.”

  Logan took a step forward. “I don’t want that. I don’t want you to go...Dad. I don’t want anyone to go.” He looked imploringly at Hana but it was Alfred who spoke and his words cut the younger man like a kitchen blade.

  “Don’t call me Dad, please. You’re no son of mine. I tried so hard with you, Logan. I wanted you to understand what faithfulness was, whakapono. Despite it all, I tried to do right by you and your mother. She ground my face in the dirt anyway and now I see you following in her slutty footsteps. You’re nothing to me now. You’re no better than her or your father. They’ll rot in hell for what they did and now...well, you’re bound there too it seems. Take it all, Logan Du Rose. Take it all. I hope it makes you happy, because it never did me. Now get out of my home, while I can still call it that. We can be out as soon as you want.”

  “No,” Logan flailed, “you don’t understand! None of you do.” He tried to reach Hana in an act of desperation and she saw fear behind the bravado as he faced the loss of absolutely everything he held dear. But she was surprisingly well protected, not just by the ample body of Leslie but by Alfred too.