Du Rose Sons

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Du Rose Sons Page 38

by Bowes, K T


  “Ooh, please stop shouting. It hurts. You should have seen the state of Ryan. He fell up the stairs. The last I saw of him, Leslie was whacking him around the butt with a broom.” Tama laughed and then groaned. “Ow!”

  “You took Ryan drinking?” Hana’s voice rose an octave and Tama winced. “I am so fed up with you!”

  The sound of the front door slamming sent Tama into a tail spin of agony and he laid his head down on his forearms. Leslie bustled into the kitchen, instantly putting her hands on her hips as she spotted Tama. “I want a word with you, moko.”

  “Please, not now.” He pushed his chair back and staggered from the room, clutching his head. Leslie maintained her angry demeanour until both women heard his bedroom door close and then she giggled. “Oosh, he was a state. Been drinkin’ with the bro’s. They were only gone two hours, bloody lightweights.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Hana began, dropping into the role of disgraced parent. “I sent him down on an errand and he came back like that.”

  “Well, I’m here about that other boy, Ryan. He’s livin’ downstairs in Liza’s old room but he’s got no mama now and he’s alone in a strange land. Alfie says Michael don’t want to know, so I wanna take him on.”

  “But...aren’t you and Alfred shipping out soon anyway? Won’t that be setting him up to get hurt again?”

  “Oh, Alfred went up north to his whanau to check it out and he didn’t like being around them. That hapu has always been a bit weird so for the time bein’ youse stuck with us.”

  “Oh that’s wonderful,” Hana breathed, relief in her voice.

  “Ah, kōtiro. Youse my whanau now.” Leslie almost snapped Hana’s neck in a stranglehold embrace.

  “You having Ryan would be a relief,” Hana sighed. “We do have five bedrooms here, so if it gets too much, he could fit in.”

  “Na, we’ll be fine.” Leslie smiled. “What did you send the boy down for?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The errand. What did you send Tama down for?”

  “Oh that.” Hana bit her lip and considered her options, but Leslie was sharp as a diamond and waited expectantly. “Well, I found a cigarette with...marijuana in it. I thought maybe it was one of the stockmen so Tama went to find out. It didn’t have much in it, but...well, anyway, he got hammered instead. With Ryan.” Hana exhaled in exasperation.

  “That’ll be Alfie’s.”

  “What? Pardon?” Hana found it hard to keep her face under control.

  “It’s Alfie’s. He smokes it for his arthritis. It controls the pain. He don’t get...you know...” Leslie rolled her eyes and swivelled her head on her neck, whilst waving her arms. Hana had never seen a pot user do that, but figured it might make them easier to spot if they did.

  “Does Logan know?” Hana asked.

  “Noooooooooo! And you don’t tell him!” Leslie punctuated her sentence with a light punch to Hana’s upper arm. It stung. “Your Logan hates the stuff. Says that was half the problem in them London schools. He’d go mental.”

  More secrets. Fantastic. Not only did Hana know that her husband was not a Du Rose, she also knew that his half-brother had married a random half-sister. Now she was also party to the fact that his father - who wasn’t really his father - smoked weed on Logan’s property and was also possibly stalking their home.

  “I think I’m going to shoot myself,” Hana said out loud and Leslie looked at her curiously.

  “What?”

  “Would you like a scone? I made some yesterday.”

  Leslie smiled and shook her head. “Na thanks, daughter. I’m watchin’ my weight.”

  Hana snorted and bit back the rude comment, unable to stop it playing out in her brain anyway. Quite what Leslie was watching it do, beggared description. Perhaps she was just watching it increase on the scales.

  “I’ve got Wiri coming up. Anahera has a doctor’s appointment. Is Phoe ready? He loves to see her.”

  “She’s actually the only member of my household who’s dressed,” Hana smiled. “So yes.”

  Leslie narrowed her eyes and pulled an interested face. “So how did Logan go to work then? Did he whakahahake? I would pay good money to see that body on a horse.”

  “You’ve lost me...I...oh.” The meaning of the Māori word dawned on Hana abruptly and she smiled sweetly. To strip naked. “Yes, I’ve heard that a lot of people would. Not likely though. My husband’s a complete prude.”

  “Not like that Tama!” Leslie guffawed. “I’m glad I’m not the housekeeper down at that hotel anymore. Helena had complaints about him after the other night. Bit too popular for his own good!”

  “He was at the hotel!” Hana put her hand over her mouth. “I assumed he went drinking in Hamilton.”

  “Oh no, he didn’t. There was a bridal shower and he did a full striptease in the bar. Poor Lofty dint know what to do with him. He couldn’t kick him out because he’s whanau. Tama went up to a hotel room with a big group of them.”

  “He said there were three...” Hana couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

  “Lofty said there was more than three! Between six and ten. And they all looked like crap at breakfast. I stuck my head round the door after ten and they all had eyes like pee holes in the snow.”

  “So what was the complaint?” Hana closed her eyes and regretted asking. Leslie stood up to leave, her eyes sparkling brightly as she cast her eyes around for the child she wished to kidnap.

  “Apparently he entertained quite a few of them and was somethin’ of a stud. They left him a massive tip at reception and wanted his phone number.”

  “Oh, what? They thought he worked here as a...as a...” Hana couldn’t bring herself to say it. Even whispering it could get them shut down. “Don’t let Logan find out,” she panicked. “He’ll kill him.” She ran a shaking hand across her face and blinked rapidly a few times. “So what was the complaint?”

  Leslie leaned forward to hear her better and then stood up, her voluminous skirt flowing back into place around her large hips. “Oh yeah, that. The bride-to-be wanted her knickers back.”

  Chapter 51

  Hana pushed her hands up underneath Logan’s shirt and groaned at the feel of his soft skin under her fingers. “Leslie was fantasising about you naked on a horse earlier. Is it possible?”

  “It would be painful. And the thought of Leslie with the hots for me does very little for my ego.” Hana’s husband tipped his hat back and kissed Hana underneath her jawline, sighing with desire. “You, on the other hand...”

  “What are you doing at the bottom of the driveway?” Hana asked, her voice muffled. “I could have run you over.”

  “Waiting for a hot woman to come pick me up.”

  Hana jumped as though shot and shoved at Logan hard, stepping back in irritation. “Not funny. We already did that particular drama. I don’t need a repeat.”

  At first, Logan looked confused and then realisation crawled across his beautiful features. “Don’t do this, Hana. Stop throwing Sylvia back in my face!” Logan held onto her forearms and wouldn’t let her withdraw from him. “We need to get past this.”

  “I can’t.” Hana exhaled and pulled at her arms, a fruitless action against Logan’s work-strengthened hands. His grip was fixed and it frustrated her.

  “Why, Hana?”

  “I don’t know. It feels like her influence stretches everywhere sometimes. When you say things like that, it makes me feel vulnerable. I promised myself I would never feel like that again.”

  “What can I do?” Logan’s face was stripped of desire and lust, leaving pain in its stead. Hana felt bad.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know why you’re waiting here; I don’t care. Just let me go, please. Wait for whoever you like. Leslie took Phoe for a few hours and I need to see Will and...sort some other things out.”

  “You think I would be standing at the bottom of our drive, waiting for a woman?” Logan sounded aghast. His dark eyes clouded over.

  “You sa
id it.”

  “I meant you. You’re my hot woman. Ah, geez Hana.” Logan let her hands drop to her sides, wincing as her stomach protruded through her shirt, her jacket hanging either side of their son like theatre curtains. It brought him to his senses and Hana saw sensitivity flicker across his expressive face. “I love you, babe. I treated you badly and it damaged your trust in me, I get that.” Logan reached for his wife as the sound of a heavy engine droned up the first part of the hill. A trades van came nose to nose with Hana’s abandoned ute and stopped. Hana read the signage of the telecommunications company on the paintwork and dropped her eyes to the ground.

  “Hey bro,” a heavy man climbed from the passenger side. “You Du Rose?”

  Logan nodded without taking his eyes from Hana’s face.

  “We’re here to check out this mast. We’ve got some parts to replace, but it’s off track. Boss said you’d be here to meet us.”

  “Later?” Logan inclined his head towards Hana and raised his eyebrows. She didn’t respond, watching as the men loaded equipment onto Logan’s quad bike and another one, which Hana hadn’t noticed parked just off road.

  Hana ground her teeth as the men drove off the road and plunged into the bush, following Logan’s lead. Her husband didn’t look back and she chewed her lip and watched him disgorge his tall frame from the bike and open a gate. Back in the ute, Hana rubbed her hands across her face, annoyed at her senseless outburst over nothing. It took some considerable manoeuvring to reverse and then drive around the work van, slewed across the widest part of the bend.

  The museum was closed and the receptionist informed Hana that Will had gone back to Hamilton for a hospital visit. She felt at a loose end and texted him to apologise for not being more attentive. His reply was curt and told her to stop being so stupid - he was fine.

  Hana climbed the spiral staircase and then the next set of steps up to Leslie’s apartment in search of her daughter. Only Alfred was home, reading the newspaper with his bifocals resting on the end of his nose. He observed Hana over the top of their metal frames as she slumped into the chair opposite him. She rolled a crumb under her index finger until it was too squashed to roll properly and then looked around the open space. “Where’s Leslie gone with Phoe?”

  “They went down to the township to play on the swings.”

  “But there’s swings on the camp ground,” Hana mused out loud and Alfred watched her.

  “True, true,” he said. “They wanted an outing. Nice to go somewhere different.”

  “Oh.” Hana squished the crumb into a splat, wrinkling her nose when it wouldn’t move anymore. “When will they be back?”

  “They’ll be back, when they’re back, love. What’s eating you?” Alfred placed his newspaper on the table, gathering the sports pages into the centre and eyeballing Hana. She felt uncomfortable under his glare and rose to put the crumb in the dustbin. Choosing to remain standing, Hana leaned back against the counter, forcing Alfred to turn. “Come on girlie. Tell me?”

  “I just had an argument with Logan,” she spilled, hanging her head and pushing her bottom lip out. Alfred raised one bushy eyebrow, dotted with grey and white hairs. “I started it,” Hana conceded. “Something he said just tipped me over the edge and I freaked out. It made me think of Sylvia and how she made me feel. I flipped and he got upset.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Alfred’s voice was soft, the misery of decades of living with an adulteress colouring his words and offering Hana sympathy. “I remember.” He ran a hand through his hair, touching a thinning spot at the crown. “It stinks.” He patted the chair next to him and beckoned to Hana. “Sit,” he told her.

  Hana thumped her bottom into the padded seat and eyed the old man, recognising a kindred spirit. “It never goes away,” Alfred whispered. “But it does get better.”

  “My first husband cheated; it makes me wary and suspicious. I don’t need much cause to go loco. The Sylvia thing brought it back. And now she’s dead so I have guilt added to that as well.”

  “Why guilt?” Alfred’s expression was curious.

  Hana bit her lip and spoke, fearing judgement. She lowered her voice, looking for a confidence bearer. “Because I’m glad she’s dead. How awful is that? She can’t come back to try and take Logan again, but that means Ryan has no mother and a woman’s dead! I’m a nasty person.”

  Alfred snuffed and reached out a gnarled hand, touching Hana lightly on her knee. “No, kōtiro, you’re normal. You have no idea how many times I wished my own brother dead. I even thought of killin’ him myself. That makes me worse. That night we walked down the mountain after the fire, you and me, remember? All I could think was, ‘It’s over; the pain is over.’ But it wasn’t, was it? It was a different pain, is all.”

  Hana nodded. “I just wanted to drag Vik back out of death and then kill him myself!”

  “So where does that leave you and the boy?”

  “Vulnerable,” Hana smiled. “The first woman who bats her eyelids at him and I’ll be packing my bags, even if Logan doesn’t respond. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.”

  “Even with your children?” Alfred reached out a tentative hand and his fingers caressed Hana’s burgeoning stomach. She watched his face as the old man strived to connect with the tiny boy, jerking backwards as the baby kicked out at his hand. Hana giggled at Alfred and took his hand, placing his palm firmly over her son and holding hers over the top. The child disturbed, moving around and settling down for a nap, his head shoved down and his feet kicking Hana’s ribs.

  “Wow!” Alfred’s face was alight as he withdrew his hand, the rolling earthquake in Hana’s stomach stilled and calm. “He’s a busy wee fulla.”

  “Another moko for you,” Hana said and the old man’s expression changed to one of sadness.

  “Not mine. Reuben’s.”

  “Yours!” Hana placed her hand over Alfred’s writhing fingers, bent, distorted digits, twisted like twigs by age and work. “They have nobody else.”

  “True,” Alfred smiled. He put his hand on Hana’s cheek and stroked it gently. “You know, I love you more than my own daughter?” His eyes watered and he ended the moment abruptly. Hana kept hold of his hand and looked at his fingers.

  “Alfred, do you take pain relief for your arthritis?”

  The old man looked at his useless fingers. “It don’t work. I started...on some other stuff recently. It’s good. It dulls the pain heaps and I can even ride Methuselah.”

  “Marijuana?” Hana whispered.

  “Shhhh!” Alfred’s eyes widened and he looked around the empty apartment for spies.

  “Where do you get it from?” Hana asked. “If someone wanted to buy some, where would they go locally?”

  “You can’t take it when you’re pregnant!” Alfred exclaimed. “I don’t want you takin’ it at all. I’m desperate, is all. Bloody desperate!”

  “I’m only asking,” Hana reassured him. “I heard that the loan shark Logan saw off was the only supplier and he’s gone.”

  “I don’t need no supplier.” He looked proud of himself. “I’m growin’ my own.” Alfred laughed at the look on Hana’s face. “Close your mouth, girl. Flies will go in.” He stood up and held out his hand. “I’ll tell you, but Logan mustn’t know.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. It’s probably best I don’t know.”

  Alfred scrunched up his face in disappointment. “But I wanna show youse.”

  “Fine!” Hana huffed and followed him. Alfred pulled up short in the centre of the apartment and faced a blank wall. Confused, Hana stared at the wall and then at him. Alfred touched the side of his nose like a magician and pressed the wall at a point just above the waist high architrave. With a click, the wall moved inwards and the whole panel from the architrave downwards, popped out. “A hidden panel?”

  The historian in Hana jumped for joy but the hotel-proprietor’s-wife cringed. “Where does this go?”

  Alfred giggled like a small child and bent down,
entering the doorway with his chin on his knees. Hana had no choice but to follow. “Pull it closed,” he told her and clicked the panel shut behind them. Hana panicked. “It’s fine,” Alfred reassured. “We can get back out.” He continued ahead, drawing a small torch from his trouser pocket and lighting their way. The route continued at half height and Hana tripped over the first low step as it presented itself.”

  “Where are we going?” she whined and Alfred’s whispered answer echoed in the dark expanse around them.

  “Roof,” he hissed backwards.

  “I don’t like heights!” Hana exclaimed and Alfred ignored her, climbing upwards in the uncomfortable bent position. The baby kicked and protested at the prolonged squashing administered by Hana’s ribs and she chuntered to herself, until running face first into Alfred’s bottom. “Oof!”

  Alfred drew back a bolt by the light of the torch and opened a door in front of him. Light flooded into the space. Blinding light, green mountains and blue sky.

  “Far out!” Hana stood up straight in the outdoor space. Concrete slabs covered a square area, twenty metres by twenty in the middle of the vast hotel roof. At the very centre stood a glasshouse, integral to the original building. Apexed on four sides, there was very little vertical edge to it, creating the aerial illusion of a glass skylight for a lower level. Only it wasn’t. The area was sheltered by its well-like construction and the roof rose up around it on every side, forming a pooled oasis within solid, brick walls. Hana stood on tiptoes and peeked over the edge of one side, watching the slate roof slope away from her. Potted plants decorated the outdoor space and the glasshouse was covered from the inside by green shade cloth. Alfred smiled at Hana’s reaction. “You’ve got deck chairs!” Hana giggled pointing at two striped green and white chairs leaned inside the glasshouse door. “Does Leslie come up here with you?”

  Alfred nodded. “She finds it hard but yes, she’s losing some weight so it’s gettin’ easier.”

 

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