by Bowes, K T
Hana put her hand over her mouth to hide the giggle which threatened to escape. I’d pay good money to see that! Phoenix beamed at the hidden joke, a co-conspirator. But then Leslie took it too far, even for her. “You’re as bad as the other weak men in this family. There’s one upstairs that let a woman shame him and raised another man’s son as his own and the other one in his grave, who yearned his whole life for his boy and allowed women to rule his life. He raised his wife’s bastard and watched you grow up from a distance. Youse are weak, the whole bloody lot of ya. Youse let that English madam walk in here and rule Hana’s roost like she belongs. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see that boy’s not your blood. I know who his pa is and it ain’t you. Youse are nuthin’ but a big disappointment to me, Logan Du Rose. I thought you was different, but you ain’t!”
Oh crap! Hana needed to intervene. She hauled Phoenix off the floor and onto her hip, pushing open the door and staring wide eyed at the furious occupants of the room. Logan balled and unclenched his fists, his jaw gritted and his face a mask of fury. Leslie, red faced and sweating, was more livid than Hana had ever seen her. Hana’s voice impeached them both, “Guys, please. Stop this.”
“I’ll stop,” Leslie interjected. “I quit. Run your own damn hotel, run it into the ground for all I care. I’m too old for this whānau’s rubbish. I’m done!” She breezed past Hana as fast as her chunky legs could take her, letting the door slam on its closer as she huffed up the corridor, still muttering to herself about ungrateful men.
Logan swallowed and visibly wrestled with himself, fighting to calm down. Phoenix wide eyed, absorbed the atmosphere and frightened, snuggled into Hana’s shoulder. Spotting Fluffy, dropped on the floor behind the door, Hana bent down awkwardly and managed to snag one of his soft hooves between thumb and finger, her heart hammering in her chest. Her husband’s body was tense and rigid, oozing naked fury and resentment. Hana hesitated, wanting to touch him and show solidarity, but too afraid. The atmosphere was fraught with warning and the towering, muscular male ticked like a bomb about to detonate.
“Naughty Syva!” Phoenix’s admonition ripped into the air like a spark and Logan looked straight at his daughter with irises the colour of storm water. “Naughty Syva spoil everfin’. Daddy an’ Nonie sad now. Cos of Syva!”
From out of the mouths of babes! Hana couldn’t look at Logan. She hoped he didn’t think she bore any responsibility for coaching the child with hate speech. It wasn’t her style.
At just the wrong moment, a teenage boy slouched through from the kitchen, clutching the remnants of a pie in his hand. He hit the wall of silence and seemed to bounce off it, looking startled. He was tall and dark, of slender build, not yet properly filling the promised adult body. Good looking, he eyed the scene before him, the angry adults and the wall of tension. Pie crumbs tumbled from between his fingers and littered the smart wooden floor. Hana was filled with sadness at the realisation that Leslie wouldn’t be the one to shout about it anymore. “Dad?”
Ryan’s single word cut into the room like a knife, powerful enough to split the fizzing atoms. Logan jumped as if bitten and Hana gritted her teeth, but Phoenix reacted badly enough for both parents to see Leslie’s bile come straight out of her rosebud lips. “No!” she shouted. “My daddy. Mine!”
She threw her favoured toy at Ryan’s head and proved a capable shot as it bounced off his face and Fluffy’s flailing hooves slapped the pie out of his hand. Instead of feeling happy with her incredible bowling arm, Phoenix became apoplectic, dropping forward towards her horse with her arms outstretched and almost overbalancing her mother. “Fuffy!” she wailed.
Hana paled as the wiggling child accidentally kicked her stomach and she almost dropped the girl. Logan moved quickly, hoisting Phoenix easily onto his hip. He fixed his grey eyes on her identical ones and gave her a look which silenced her mid-wail. Phoenix’s bottom lip shot out and seemed to cover her whole mouth, wobbling with emotion as her eyes filled with tears and the short breaths began. Her outburst was so uncharacteristic that it took both parents by surprise and possibly even the child herself, as she created monsters in her head and then struggled with their rampage through her safe world. Logan retrieved the pie encrusted toy from the stunned boy’s feet and returned it.
Phoenix leaned towards Hana as Logan came level in his bid to exit the tension filled room with the distraught child. The little girl touched her mother’s face with her hand. “Sowwy mama,” she said and remorse caused the grey eyes to leak prolifically.
“I’m ok, baby.”
“I’ll go and make that phone call. I won’t be long.” Logan nodded to a shocked Ryan and opened the heavy door one-handed with ease.
Hana waited until Logan removed his daughter, before sinking into a dining chair and rubbing the space where the rugby player in her belly had executed a full somersault with pike and wedged his feet over her hip bone. It felt excruciating.
“What did I do?”
Hana had forgotten about the sullen sixteen year old male who still occupied the same air space. Unexpectedly he looked less sulky and more concerned. “There’s a dustpan and brush in the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen.” Hana rubbed at the side of her stomach, trying to persuade the foot to move somewhere more accommodating. “You need to clean up that mess. Maybe if you use a plate next time?”
He disappeared and Hana didn’t expect to see him again. She was surprised when he cleared up the dropped pie and crumbs and plonked himself down next to her at the table. “I shouldn’t have called him Dad, should I?” The teen’s body slumped like a rag doll and Hana noticed acne on the side of his face underneath the furry dusting of teenage beard. “He’s so cool. I want him to be my dad.”
“He is pretty awesome,” Hana winced at another distracting jab in her abdomen and then with her usual English politeness, she held out her hand to the boy. “I’m Hana, Logan’s wife.”
He took her hand gently, his eyes confused. “I’m Ryan. My mother said you weren’t around.”
Hana smiled wryly. “I’m very much around. That little girl is my daughter...Logan’s daughter. She’s finding all this quite difficult at the moment.”
“Yeah, it’s all a bit weird, really.”
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Hana suggested. “If you’re going to be sticking around for a while, we might as well try and get to know each other.”
Ryan’s grey eyes turned on her and his expression reverted back to the spiteful, grasping nature it had temporarily dropped. For a second, he reminded Hana of Tama a few years ago, before she and Logan made him part of their family unit and parented him. It was the same look which screamed out for love and acceptance, shrouded in a veil of wounding and hatred. It woke Hana up and forced her to look more carefully at the young man in front of her. “Mum said you weren’t around,” he repeated. “She wants Logan for herself.”
“I know, Ryan. But it’s not going to happen. You need to learn to live with that otherwise you’ll never be welcome here.”
Ryan was surprisingly frank once they bridged the first obstacle. With quiet determination, Hana made it clear she was going nowhere and he calmed down. They chatted about England and Hana’s recent visit, trying to forge some kind of understanding through shared experience of their homeland. “Why were you back there?” Ryan asked, picking sub-consciously at a spot on his chin.
“I went to see my father and his wife,” Hana replied. “I hadn’t seen him for twenty-six years when he turned up in Hamilton last year. We lost touch and I thought he’d died. Now we’re trying to make up for lost time. He’s been quite sick.” Hana steered her emotional thoughts away from Robert’s tearful goodbye at the airport and changed the subject. “So, apparently your mum lost touch with Logan when he moved to a different area of the UK. Did she ever marry? Did someone step up and be a father to you?”
“I’ve never had a dad,” Ryan scoffed. “I’ve spent my life in care!”
Hana tried not to re
veal her shock. In her sixteen years working in an all-boys’ school, she learned when to stay silent. It was best not to react or ask leading questions. She smiled with encouragement through gentle green eyes and focussed on his obvious physical needs. “You didn’t get to eat the pie. How about I make you a sandwich before the dinner rush?” Ryan looked at her with confusion and then nodded slowly in agreement. Hana hauled herself upright feeling every bit her age and nudged the boy’s shoulder gently. “Come on. You can choose what you want and I’ll make it.”
Chapter 16
Hana buttered the bread and Ryan placed chicken between the pieces and added copious amounts of ketchup. “I don’t need all that,” he commented, misunderstanding Hana’s task.
“Oh, I know. I’m making something for Logan and Phoe. We didn’t get lunch and she’s probably hungry after her meltdown.”
Ryan collected the buttery slabs and dutifully laid strips of meat between the layers. He seemed to take more care over theirs. Hana cut them up neatly and placed them onto plates, covering them with film and suspecting she might have to hunt down her husband and baby. The teenager stood with his back to the kitchen worktop, carefully eating his sandwiches over a dinner plate. He looked vulnerable when he was eating and Hana felt the iceberg in her heart towards him drop a few melting chunks. She cleaned up the mess they made, spraying the surface with cleaner and placing the knife into the dishwasher. Leslie would usually shout if she came down for service and found a mess in her spotless kitchen, not like the days of Miriam Du Rose.
Logan’s mother allowed family to sit around the table in the middle, covered in horsehair or mud, depending on what they’d been working on. She served the family breakfast or dinner with the industrial kitchen in full swing and the poor girls from the township falling over themselves, as they tried to service the busy hotel dining room. If Leslie’s short-lived reign was truly over, Hana wondered what would happen for dinner tonight. “Just don’t look at me.” She spoke aloud without realising as she dumped the dishcloth into the laundry sack in the corner. When she looked up, Ryan had stopped eating.
“What?”
“It’s pardon, not what. And I was talking to myself, wondering what they were going to do tonight. The housekeeper just quit.”
“Because of us?” The boy was astute. Hana shook her head.
“Definitely not you personally, unless she’s seen you ransacking the chiller. But even then, she was more likely to give you a bash round the ear. Your mother’s gotten on her nerves, but it’s other things too I’m sure.”
“Yeah, she hates Mum. They had a row yesterday. Mum told her she could do the job with her eyes closed.”
“Your mum said that to Leslie?”
“Yep.” Ryan filled his mouth with sandwich but at least put his hand over it this time when he spoke. “Don’t give her the job though. She can’t really.”
“Oh, ok.”
Ryan’s face had relaxed completely and Hana felt dismay bite at her heart. He was pure Du Rose, there was no mistaking it. They all had the same facial features and those grey eyes were a genetic mutation carried forward as a gift from the randy Frenchman, who bought the huge tract of land from the Māori chief a hundred and eighty years ago and then bedded his daughter.
Hana sighed and rubbed her hand over her aching lower back. Her stomach protruded eagerly through the fabric of her sweatshirt. Ryan pointed a greasy finger at it and struggled to swallow a mouthful. “Mum dunt know about that,” his gaze fixed on Hana’s belly almost hungrily and she cringed. “You should play it. It’s your trump card. The legitimate heir to the throne.”
“What?”
“Pardon,” Ryan corrected her with a cheeky grin. Hana busied herself pulling the sweater straight to hide the bump. “She’s only after the money. She dint know he ‘ad this much though. She thought he was a student.”
Hana’s face paled horribly. The stray crust of bread she’d forced down whilst cutting them off Phoenix’s sandwich, rose up into her gullet. Her eyes strayed to the hand holding the diminishing sandwich and she exhaled in a whoosh at the confirmation. Hana took deep breaths to stem the sickness and leaned against the counter to support herself as her head cleared.
“You’re not havin’ it are you?” Ryan looked fearful. “Shall I get that shouty old woman?”
Hana shook her head, trying to cover the emotions coursing through her harried brain. It all makes sense now.
Hana surveyed the young man in front of her with less fear. He was a child struggling to find his way in life, as much Sylvia’s pawn as Hana and Logan. It was quite pitiful. “Why were you in care?” she asked. “I’m assuming you mean Social Services? Children’s homes and foster care?”
Ryan sighed, accidentally spraying chicken crumbs everywhere. “She was an unfit mother. Kept leaving me alone and stuff to go out working. Mainly escort work, which is how she met Logan, I think. She liked him a lot and saw him loads, reckons she even stopped charging him. But then he just upped and left. She thought she’d struck lucky getting pregnant but when she found out and tried to find him, he’d gone. Instead of being carted off over here with her Prince Charming, she was left with a kid and worse off than before. She got married to this real old bloke when I was twelve but he didn’t like me so I stayed in foster homes. The old guy died last year and left her his house. She sold it and used the money to come here to find my dad. She says I have to make him like me otherwise we’re stuffed.”
Hana worked hard to keep her face neutral, vindication singing loudly in her heart. She hadn’t imagined any of Sylvia’s divisiveness, even though everyone had done a great job of making her seem paranoid. Sylvia had a game plan, but so far only played the hand which Hana could see.
“I like cooking.” Ryan finished his food and placed the plate into the dishwasher with extraordinary care. “I did it at school for two years. I want to be a chef.”
To Hana’s surprise he washed his hands in the sink specifically for that purpose, not running them under the tap by the draining board as she carelessly did. She wouldn’t have dared do it if Leslie was there. Ryan used a paper towel and balled it up, shooting it expertly into the waste paper bin next to him.
“Well then Ryan,” Hana turned her acquired Du Rose charm onto her new family member, determined to ruin Sylvia’s game, but have some fun first. “How about we get you ready for tonight’s service and you can show us what you’re made of. I think they’re a man down and so when everyone else steps up, there’ll be a vacancy at the bottom.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind washing up,” he said, surprising Hana with his willingness.
“No, not washing up. We have a man who comes from the township to do that. He’s...special.” Hana used the kindest term she could think of to describe Benaiah’s Down Syndrome. She hoped one day others would give her little granddaughter, Elizabeth, the same courtesy.
“Handicapped then?” Ryan asked perceptively and Hana nodded. “Cool, no worries. My best friend back home’s got Tourette’s. He once shouted ‘shit’ really loud in McDonald’s and we thought he was just doing what he always did, but then this kid slipped over in it...”
Chapter 17
“We’re booked in for a DNA test on Friday.” Logan sounded tired as he laid his daughter in her cot. Phoenix pulled her fluffy horse up to her nose and inserted her thumb.
“You don’t need me for that.” Hana stroked a stray dark curl from her daughter’s brow and pulled the blankets higher over her shoulder.
Outside the bedroom, Logan reached for his wife and pulled her tired body into his. “We’re in this together. It’s my mess and I’ll sort it out but I want you there. No more secrets, Hana.” He kissed the end of her nose. “Besides, I never want to be left alone with her again, thanks. She’s like a bloody octopus.”
“Why don’t you and Ryan go together?” Hana asked, seeking avoidance altogether.
“Because it’s more accurate if the mother’s there,” Logan replied. “Don’t
you remember third form biology?”
“No,” Hana tried to pull away from him, aggression leaking into her blood. “I don’t want to sit in the back with my daughter and watch Sylvia putting her hands all over you, thanks. It’s sick-making and I don’t feel up to it.”
“I’m borrowing Nev’s seven-seater and I’m sticking her in the back. You or Ryan can ride shotgun.” Hana sighed and her body went limp with exhaustion. She didn’t have the energy to fight. Logan’s strong body took her weight and he rocked her like he did their daughter. “I’m doing my best here, Hana. Please help me out.”
“It’s just...weird!” she protested. “Your current wife and daughter coming along to a DNA test to confirm whether Ryan is your love child with some plastic tart from England, who thinks she’s going to move in and play happy families...”
“Shhh,” Logan soothed. He laid his chin on the top of Hana’s head. “Let’s just get through it and face life one day at a time, ok? I can’t undo the past any more than you can. I wish...I wish it hadn’t happened and I’ve no idea how it did but I have to get on with it now.”
“Maybe you need the biology lesson if you can’t remember how it happened,” Hana said with sarcasm.
“I don’t mean that,” Logan said. “I had two relationships in England and neither of them were with her. Both petered out because I was a crap boyfriend and couldn’t seem to commit or get my head in the game properly. Maybe I was too busy riding the tube, looking for someone else...” Logan sighed and Hana sensed the weight in his heart. He had searched for her endlessly and without result because she was no longer in England. By some strange twist of fate, she was in the one place he would never think to look; his precious homeland. Logan continued, “I remember Sylvia’s face and having a drink together with other people at some point. But I must have got well-hammered on the booze because I sure as hell don’t remember her...in any other way.”
“Great. Ryan must be so thrilled with that little piece of news,” Hana sighed heavily. “Please can we stop talking about Sylvia now? It makes my stomach heave.”