by Bowes, K T
Logan was gone by the time Hana woke up, but at least his side of the bed looked as though it had been slept in for once. She snaked a foot tentatively across the mattress, feeling a slight warmth which told her he hadn’t been gone long and Hana sought comfort from their temporary nearness. The skylights at the end of the room either side of the apex ceiling channelled a dull, grey wintry light, adding to Hana’s sadness. She was tempted to pull the swags of cloth around the four poster bed and spend the day hiding, but couldn’t be bothered to move and get cold outside of the covers.
The buttons on her nightie gaped from bottom to top, testament to her husband’s reluctance to talk at all, but he had demonstrated he still loved her without words. Hana’s fingers were clumsy as she fixed the shirt closed, pushing away the spectre of Sylvia with her perfectly straight blonde hair and her amazing figure. Hana knew Logan had left early to check on the calving and relieve the overnight workers, but still the fear persisted that he had gone for an early morning tryst with the mother of his love-child. By the time the final button was slipped into its slot in the fabric, Hana’s unease had returned and she realised with a sickening sadness that nothing had changed. The other woman and her offspring still challenged everything in Hana’s life, bringing a frightening precariousness to tinge and shape her fate. Logan had left his wife up on the mountain again, a prisoner until she complied with his wishes and succumbed to his authority. He would not let her run to safety and clear her head, not with his tiny daughter in tow. Not again.
“Mama,” the voice came from the end of the bed. She sat up to greet the small, perplexed face at her side.
“Hey baby,” Hana held out her arms and Phoenix used the duvet to clamber awkwardly into the bed and under the covers, her delicately framed body freezing cold. “How did you get out of your cot?”
“I climbin’ out. Tama done it.”
“Oh yes. I must remember to thank him next time he’s home.” The sarcasm was wasted on the child who adored the muscular twenty year old male with a passion. At eighteen, the boy had been a loose cannon, directionless and without focus, quitting school after a torrid affair with a female staff member. His relationship with his uncle’s new wife had turned from hate to love as Hana recognised the need for boundaries and continuity in him and offered him security. Michael’s illegitimate son had bound himself to Logan and Hana, allowing them to parent him and stepping into adulthood with the intention of making them proud. Until he got with Phoenix and then he was a delightful idiot. “I wonder how he’s going to take all this,” Hana said out loud. “He’ll think he’s a jinx. Every parent figure he aligns himself to, seems to bust up their marriage and cut him loose. Poor kid.”
“Porky,” Phoenix sighed around her thumb.
“That’s not actually what I said, but it doesn’t matter.” Hana snuggled her daughter tightly into her, feeling her chilled little body thaw out. As she ran her hands down the child’s pyjamas she made contact with the bulging nappy, in a fragile state of disrepair. Phoenix put her legs over Hana’s thighs, resting her feet on her mother’s flesh. They were like blocks of ice. “What have you been doing?” Hana asked into the mop of black curls.
“Playin’. Daddy’s gone work wiv baby calfies aye?”
Hana nodded but daren’t trust herself to speak. She fervently hoped so. She smoothed the soft hair back from her daughter’s face and kissed the downy forehead. Phoenix giggled. “What?” Hana asked, curious.
“Pardon!”
Hana laughed, “No, I mean what are you laughing at?”
Phoenix sniggered again. “That boy. Kickin’ me.”
Hana smiled with wonderment at the insight of her little girl. She might be right. Hana sensed she carried this child so differently to Phoenix. He hadn’t made her half as sick as her girls but was far more energetic. Her mind went back in time to her first pregnancy. A terrified eighteen year old, Hana was oblivious to her condition until the pregnancy was well into its second trimester; like this time. Pathetic, lacklustre spotting fooled her into counting false periods and she quailed as she remembered having to tell her Indian boyfriend the distressing news.
Vik wore a turban that day and a vibrant robe having returned on the train from a Sikh gathering in London. He looked strange standing in the scruffy bedsit in all his finery, like a sparkling diamond on a landfill. Hana shook with fear, her puppy fat appearing suddenly obvious to the dense teens, destroying their combined worlds in its increasing girth. Vik was livid and then subdued, his visit to the affluent family of his betrothed paling into insignificance against the weight of Hana’s revelation. His family subsequently extracted him from the contract with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Somehow, it ended up as Hana’s fault as the years progressed, as though she had gotten pregnant with Bodie all by herself.
“More bruvvers,” Phoenix sighed and popped her thumb in her mouth. Her toes twinkled icily on Hana’s thigh.
“Sorry,” Hana yawned. Bodie was a policeman, stormy and unpredictable like his father. He regarded Phoenix in a hair-ruffling kind of way. At twenty-eight, her presence embarrassed him. Phoenix held more affection for his six year old son, Jas, who spent hours trying to teach her the skills most valuable to him; kick boxing and commando crawling. Phoenix learned patiently and without guile, eager to please her good-natured uncle, roughhousing and tussling with him as though she was more than nineteen months old. She never cried when he accidentally hurt her and put up with his bone crunching hugs of apology. She recently administered a decent poke in the eye and a bloody nose, earning her a promotion in his imaginary army, to major, first class.
“You hungry?” Hana asked, hoping that the bulging, urine filled nappy would hold a minute longer while she enjoyed the proximity of her daughter.
“Yep,” Phoenix answered, but didn’t bounce up or wriggle, happy to stay cuddling.
A knock on the bedroom door made Hana’s heart skip, wondering if Logan had returned to talk to her. Why would he knock on his own bedroom door, idiot? By the time Leslie’s face appeared next to the furthest wooden post of the bed, another disappointment had been filed in the misery folder of Hana’s mind.
“Logan sent me up.” The old woman smiled down on mother and daughter with fondness, auburn hair mixing with black on the pillow. Hana looked away, hiding her anger poorly. So, she was still a prisoner of her husband’s insecurities and archaic world view.
“Get in, Nonie,” Phoenix swung her arm behind her and patted the bed without breaking bodily contact with her warm mother.
“How about I make you some breakfast?” Leslie changed the subject, seeing the stiffness of Hana’s body. “It’ll be all right, Hana,” she said softly, “they’re only on holiday. She’ll be gone soon.”
“Will she?” Hana responded, the bile from her heart spilling out of her mouth. “I think she’s in for the long haul personally. It will be me who goes first.”
“Your husband dunt want that,” Leslie began, her placation drowned out by Hana cutting across the rest of her sentence.
“He can’t stop me!”
“Well, he can today actually.” Leslie looked guilty. “He’s taken the truck and says you have to stay up here and rest.
“So, I’m confined to barracks, am I? So he can have his cake and eat it. Stupid, dumb wife!”
“Dupid, stumb rife,” Phoenix repeated, speaking awkwardly around her thumb and Hana knew she needed to be quiet. “Cake for Phoe?”
Leslie held her arms out to the child and Hana’s heart quailed as even her daughter abandoned her, in exchange for a clean nappy and some toast, even if she mistakenly believed it would be cake.
“Leslie, yesterday you were on my side, helping me move all Logan’s stuff out of here. How come today you’re doing his dirty work?”
Leslie shifted her feet awkwardly and Hana watched Phoenix give a little shudder as she did another lazy wee in the already bursting nappy. She looked across at her mother and gave her a sly smile.
&nb
sp; “Alfie went up north to his father’s whānau. We was gonna move there when Mr Fancypants threw us out. But then he came to see Alfie yesterday and they talked. My Alfie says Logan Du Rose is a broken man. He wants us to stick around here for a bit.”
“And that includes being my jailer,” Hana retorted. “Well, thanks so much for that!”
Leslie took a step towards the bed and Hana’s cross body. “Don’t you accuse me of back-stabbing my girl! Last night you’re all determined that the marriage is over and this morning, you lie there in that bed spouting your rights with bloody great hickeys all over your neck! Ain’t me what’s the hypocrite, girlie. Take a look in the mirror.”
Hana went for a hot shower, mortified at the awful love bites Logan had given her. Thankfully most of them decorated her right collar bone but one had been carefully placed on the delicate flesh behind her ear. “You are such a pushover!” Hana grumbled to her reflection, getting only a heightened blush to her cheekbones as she dwelt on the activities of the night. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had only been the once.
Hana dressed in a scruffy grey sweatshirt and some tracksuit pants. There didn’t seem much point caring about her appearance, so she opted for comfort instead. Leslie put her head round the bedroom door just as Hana hauled the top over her full breasts and struggled with the hood, which turned inside out. Leslie dealt with Hana as though she was a child, righting the hood and helping it slide down over her bump. She rested her wrinkled, work-worn hands over the rounded stomach. “What are you and him doing to each other?” Her voice sounded gentle and reassuring. “You need each other right now.”
“Logan doesn’t need me, I’m just his baby factory.”
Leslie looked astounded. “He never said that!”
Hana looked down at the ground. He hadn’t said that at all. But he may as well have. He said she could leave but not take Phoenix. He couldn’t have been much clearer. Leslie visibly considered comforting Hana, but the woman was prickly as a hedgehog and she thought better of it, carefully withdrawing her hands.
“I’m lookin’ after Nev’s wee boy this morning. Logan said I could fetch Phoe and take her down to play with him. He gets bored with just me and Alfie, but he likes her.”
Hana’s eyebrows drew together as she frowned. “You can’t take her. I don’t want to be up here on my own.”
“You come then,” Leslie offered. “A change of scenery will do you good. Everyone’s been asking after you.”
Hana hesitated, but then the image of Sylvia’s carefully made-up face misted into view, looking down her nose at a flustered Hana with her messy curls and raggedy old clothes. “No,” she replied rudely, shaking her head. “Logan said I have to stay here, so I’ll stay here.” Hana managed to greet her dressed daughter with a smile. Leslie had fed and changed her so all that remained for Hana to do, was fit her into her little coat and settle her into the car seat in the back of the Land Rover.
“I hate you!” Hana railed against her husband’s cunning as the vehicle disappeared from view. The only vehicle left in the garage was his motorbike and he knew Hana wouldn’t try to escape on that. She was trapped. As the truck left the property, Hana raised her hand sadly in the air, her heart broken by the sight of her daughter obliviously waving to her with a wet thumb. Turning back to the luxurious but empty house, Hana found herself in tears again.
The sight of a cigarette butt lying next to the front door brought her up sharp. Rules about smoking on the entire property were harsh and strictly enforced and as the nearest supplier was a decent drive away, many of the stockmen had either never started smoking or just given up. Hana stared at the offending item feeling perplexed. “That’s weird.” Not wanting Phoenix to pick it up, she fetched a piece of kitchen roll and used it to put the butt in the plant pot by the front door. Her shoes were dirty and she promised herself that she would go in and get rid of it later. The discovery was unsettling as it meant that a stranger had been to the house, possibly during her sojourn with Leslie and Alfred.
The deck ran around the full circumference of the house and Hana traversed it, her footsteps echoing on the dry wood. Hana counted ten cigarette ends littered around the property and an area by the lounge, where someone had stood for a long while, leaving a flattened area of scrubby grass. Sacha’s footsteps had cut deeply across the small disturbed patch, proving that the visitor had come before Hana’s failed attempt at dinner with her husband. Hana worried at the edge of her thumbnail and felt uneasy. She recalled the sensation of being watched and her skin prickled uncomfortably on the back of her neck. Odd things had been happening for a while around the hotel, but recent acts of vandalism centred on her and Logan. The window smashed in Hana’s face was preceded by myriad other things, too many to name. But the day before the window incident, the house mysteriously ran dry of water. Logan discovered an outside tap left on just a little, draining the water tank over a series of days. It was easily fixed and Phoenix got the blame.
“She might have fiddled around when she played outside on her tricycle. Maybe watch her next time,” Logan concluded.
“I was watching her!” Hana argued. “What do you think I was doing?”
“Fine then, Hana! But there’s no other explanation unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Nothing. It’s ok.” Logan spent an hour fitting locks to the taps, switched the water source to draw from a nearby stream and eventually torrential rain replenished the water tank, but it was irritating and time consuming during a really busy period on the farm.
“But I was with her all the time,” Hana had protested, yet there seemed no other explanation. Things had gone missing or got broken, with Logan eager to blame it on the wind blowing things away or smashing plant pots. Hana wondered now. Maybe they were targets for deliberate mischief. She shivered despite the sunshine and walked quickly back to the front of the house.
As she slammed the front door deliberately hard, a fat envelope caught the breeze and flew off the hall table, too heavy to flutter. It plopped onto the wooden floor with a thud. Hana picked it up, recognising her son’s scrawled handwriting on the front. It hadn’t been opened, which surprised her. Maybe Logan wasn’t quite taking things to the extreme just yet.
“Most prisoners usually have their mail screened,” Hana spoke into the empty house. “It must be my lucky day.” She sneered, gulping as the hall mirror reflected her ghoulish expression back at her. Logan knew Bodie’s writing and teased him about his spelling. He wouldn’t be bothered about a letter from her son reaching Hana.
She turned the envelope over in her hands and stared at her cell phone. No signal. What would she have said anyway? “Hey Bo, you were right all along about Logan. He’s moved his mistress and love-child into the hotel and won’t let me leave unless I agree to give him full custody of Phoenix.” She said the words out loud and stifled a sob with her hand as she heard them spoken. Bodie would either think she was insane, or crow about having tried hard to warn her when she ignored him, which she had.
The package was sellotaped up, the back fold of the envelope barely containing the bulging contents. Inside were four white envelopes, bent and ragged as though they had knocked around for some time. The words Waikato District Health Board were emblazoned on each of them. A hastily scribbled note in Amy’s handwriting declared,
‘Sorry for the delay, Hana. Bo kept saying he’d forward these on to you but I just found them in his work trousers. Jas is fine but missing you and Hope is cutting teeth so is permanently miserable. We haven’t heard from you for a while, so hope all is well? Love Amy.’
Hana fondled the note in trembling fingers. It felt like a lifeline. Amy hoped that everything was ok, but it wasn’t, was it? She bit her lip and moved on to the curled and folded letters. She had missed three scan appointments. Great! That’s what she got for lying to the doctors and pretending she still lived at Culver’s Cottage. One of the letters contained a snotty note from an admin, warning Hana t
hat if she failed to attend this next scan date, she would not be offered another and would have to go back to her GP and start again. Hana raked the letter for a date and time, her eyes widening as she found them in bold down near the bottom. It was today, at midday.
In the garage, she eyed her only remaining mode of transport. The huge Ninja motorcycle seemed to cringe at her inexperienced touch, probably remembering she had only ever been on the back of it for a handful of terrifying pillion rides. Even then, she leant the wrong way on a bend and almost pulled Logan off. Hana fingered the handlebars and wondered if it would matter if she stayed in first gear for an hour and a half, or at least until she worked out how to change it. Logan had bought her a new helmet the previous year and she fitted it onto her head, struggling to poke her fingers through the visor hole to bend her ears back up again. Trying to cock her leg over the seat, she noticed she still wore her slippers and went over to the shoe cupboard to find her trainers. The helmet was heavy and overbalanced her as she fought with her laces and she stunned herself nutting the cupboard. Her belly seemed to get in the way of everything, as though the child was in league with its father. Frustrated, Hana laid on her back on the concrete floor and pushed her laces into the top of her shoes, unable to do them up.
Another go at getting on the bike would have been humorous in other circumstances, but Hana grew hotter and more frustrated by the minute. Her legs were too short and she couldn’t touch the ground with both feet at the same time. She would be fine on the motorway but might have to get off and push it through Hamilton as she would be unable to put her feet down at traffic lights. Gingerly turning the ignition key, Hana felt the bike give a low throaty roar and surge slightly but it didn’t move forward. She inspected the marks on the handle, wondering if bikes had a neutral gear and then realised it was still on its stand. Did Logan start it on the stand or off?
The whole thing descended into ridiculousness as Hana couldn’t work out how to get the bike off its stand. It didn’t look complicated, but pushing and huffing had no effect and she was forced to tramp through the house in her trainers to go to the toilet again. Back in the garage she regarded the machine haughtily. “I’m wasting time!” She stamped her foot. The bike remained loyally rigid to its master, like everything else in the Du Rose domain. With a show of temper, Hana stood behind it and kicked the back wheel, releasing her pent up aggression. The bike gave a click and groan before rolling forward, the stand pinging up neatly into its undercarriage as it propelled itself forward into a pile of packing boxes. There was a sickening crunch as the heavy machine crushed the contents of the brown containers and buried itself nose first into a shelving unit. Guilt stricken, Hana turned the key to ‘off’ and left it lying on its side in the mess it had made, locking the front door quickly behind her as she bolted down the mountain on foot.