by K T Bowes
She busied herself tidying the brochure racks, occupying tutor group time and returning to peep through the office window. Posters and notices obliterated the interior but small gaps offered a view of Caroline’s desk. Hana saw her stand up and breeze through the common room, a mammoth blot on Hana’s landscape but a tiny figure against the arched ceiling and vaulted beams. Pete left after her and slammed the office door. Hana waited with her nose pressed against the glass for a moment or two, just in case Caroline forgot something and returned. Glancing across at her own desk, she caught sight of her door key sitting on a tower of paper. “Noooo!” she wailed.
“Why are you looking through the window?” Pete halted in the final second before he bowled her over. “I forgot my burger. That bitch put me off my breakfast.” He unlocked the door and pushed his way in, seizing the greasy wrapper with a grunt of satisfaction. He took it with him, biting into it like a vampire.
Hana tasted the residue of bitterness and hatred in the office. It hung like fog, damp and eroding in a place Hana once loved. She contemplated resigning but worried about leaving Logan to Caroline’s devices. Her tendency to run brought other problems with it. “I just need to keep going until the end of term,” she promised herself. “Then Rory will be back.”
Angus’ voice in the corridor made her jump and Hana swung into her chair and logged onto her computer. Four budget requests and a dubious invoice greeted her. “Thanks for that,” she sighed.
The comforting, familiar hum of male voices in the common room lulled Hana into a false sense of security. She started an email advising the head of the technology department that Sheila wouldn’t authorise the astronomical bill for a new extension out of her careers budget. Her fingers paused over the keyboard looking for polite wording. A hush fell over the common room and Hana turned her face towards the open door. Angus poked his head through. “All well, working hard? Good, good.”
Hana nodded. “Yes thanks. Is Sheila sick today?”
“Aaahh.” Angus twisted his expression into one of discomfort and he wagged his finger at her. “That’s what I need to discuss with you.” He pushed the door closed and plonked himself down on Pete’s chair. Hana winced. An empty biscuit wrapper in her dustbin mirrored the mess left on Pete’s desk and chair. And Angus’ expensive trousers. In a facetious moment, she imagined herself slapping crumbs off the principal’s bottom.
“Sheila,” began Angus with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “Sheila won’t be back this term.”
The consequences hit Hana in the face like a brick and she swallowed. The colour left her complexion. “Don’t say it, Angus. Please don’t say it.”
“Oh, no dear. She’s not very ill.” He leaned across and patted her knee. “She isn’t dying. Just needs some space.” He mouthed the final word of the sentence and Hana gaped at him.
“That didn’t even occur to me,” she breathed. “But when she went to Europe last year, Rory covered the careers role for her.”
“Yes.” Angus smiled. “Quite right. The Year 13 dean can take over that job on a temporary basis. So you understand what will happen?”
Hana leapt to her feet with her hand over her mouth. “No.” She shook her head. “Actually yes. I understand, but I can’t do this.” The words escaped her lips without filtering. “I quit.”
“What?” Angus stood and dragged her hand away from her mouth. “You can’t quit. I need you to fill in for Sheila.”
“No.” Hana snatched her hand away and reached into her bottom drawer for her handbag. “I’ve had enough, Angus. I can’t do this.”
Angus sat in silence while Hana divulged her sorry tale of woe involving Caroline Marsh. Then he shook his head. “So you think Miss Marsh singled out my school in order to get near to Logan?”
“Logan thinks so,” Hana scoffed. “That’s exactly why she’s here!”
“It explains certain things.” Angus nodded his head like a toy. “But I’m somewhat confused. I heard from another quarter she was involved with someone else.” He frowned and his red eyebrows joined in the middle. “Don’t concern yourself with that.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I’d like you to forget I said it.” He smiled at Hana. “You say she makes life difficult. I need facts otherwise I can’t help you.”
Hana shook her head and her thoughts came back empty. “She’s too careful to give me ammunition. She spilled tea on my work but that might look like an accident. Intimidation could be my perception of her. Today she told me she hated me, but only Pete heard. He’s not a credible witness in the eyes of the trustees.” Hana’s shoulders slumped. “There is no evidence, Angus. I have to quit.”
“I’m in a quandary,” Angus stated. “It’s usual for the Year 13 dean to step into the careers role during a crisis. The administrative running of the school is down to Donald Watson and the management team, in which case Caroline will be asked.”
“My situation is already intolerable, without giving her even more authority over me.” Hana bit her lip and ran her fingers over the tension headache beginning at the bridge of her nose.
“I know and in that case, the school will fail in its duty of care towards you. I think for now, the best idea is to do nothing.” He raised his hand as Hana’s mouth opened in protest. “I feel the end is in sight. Not Armageddon, just the end of Miss Marsh’s employment.”
“How?” Hana demanded. Angus put a forefinger to his lips and waggled his eyebrows. Then he patted Hana’s hand as he rose and unlocked the door. He turned towards her at the last moment.
“It’s a shame you weren’t in briefing this morning dear Hana.” She looked for a reprimand, but his eyes seemed kind. “The other staff took the news of your wedding with great enthusiasm. They wanted to wish you all the very best.”
“Angus!” Hana’s voice sounded croaky as she called out and he stopped with his fingers caressing the handle. “What did you mean at the reception?”
His shoulders slumped. “Old men say too much sometimes. I meant nothing by it. Forget it.”
He closed the door behind him and before Hana’s eyes, her life twisted and writhed in complication and upset. The more she knew the less she understood. Catching sight of Sheila’s empty office, Hana threw her head back in irritation. “And he avoided telling me what’s wrong with Sheila!”
Hana worked alone until eleven thirty when the bell rang for morning tea. She texted Sheila to ask advice about the science teacher’s dilemma and received no reply. When he rang her for the fifth time, she lost the plot. “No!” she hissed. “Sheila’s not here and I can’t authorise a purchase that big. There’s nothing written down and I don’t recall any conversations about you building an extension and charging it to our budget.” Hana rolled her eyes at his retort. “Don’t even think about it. I’m emailing Donald right now and if that bill gets paid on the strength of a fake signature, you’re toast!”
A permanent knot in her stomach tightened as she anticipated Caroline’s return. She steeled herself for it, practicing clever sentences and intelligent responses to pretend arguments in her head. To her surprise, Logan walked through the door first. “Hey babe, please can you sort me out?” Pain filled his eyes and the sling hung slack around his neck. “I tightened it and now I can’t get my arm back in. Bloody thing’s killing my neck.” He eyed the devastation on Pete’s chair and elected to sit on the corner of his desk instead.
Hana opened her drawer and pulled out a packet of painkillers. She popped two into Logan’s palm and handed him her bottle of water, watching as he swallowed. She resisted the urge to tell him how wretched he looked.
A Year 13 called in for a brochure and eyed Logan sideways. Boys proved perceptive creatures, spotting extra-curricular activity between staff with frightening clarity. Hana handed the brochure over with a smile, safe in her guaranteed immunity from accusation. “Sit in my chair,” she told Logan as the boy left. “You’ve knotted it so tight, I’m not sure I can undo it.” She wrestled with t
he sling and Logan pulled it over his head, mussing his dark hair and rumpling his shirt collar. He sighed with the pressure off his neck and rubbed his good hand over the reddened flesh.
“There, done.” Hana pulled the two ends apart with a triumphant smile. Logan wrinkled his nose.
“You used your teeth. That’s cheating.”
“Didn’t.” Hana licked her lips and Logan snorted.
“You’re such a liar. There’s lipstick on the knot!”
Hana looked down and laughed. She admitted defeat with a toss of her head. “Fair enough.” She pulled lint from her tongue and winked at Logan. “Hold still. I’ll tie it somewhere different. Your neck looks sore here.” She stood in front of him and leaned around, tying the sling below his right ear. The cast felt heavy in her hands as she laid it in the cloth and fixed a panel around the elbow with a safety pin.
Logan caught hold of her soft fingers and left a sensuous kiss on her wrist. It tickled her skin and she giggled. “Wait until I get you home,” Logan whispered and his eyes blazed with desire. Hana bit her lower lip and checked the knot, freezing in position at the sight of Caroline standing in the doorway. Her stomach clenched and Caroline ignored them, breezing in like an ill wind. An unexpected wave of pity gripped Hana’s heart at the look of despair on the other woman’s face.
Despite the constant glances Caroline shot Logan, he ignored her and the atmosphere became heavy and painful. Hana felt her chest tighten and her lungs struggled to extract oxygen from the bitter fog. Logan appeared calm and unruffled, pushing his fingers through hers and kissing her fingernails. She suffered a momentary panic, seeing what it might feel like to find herself thrust from Logan Du Rose’s inner circle. When the bell rang, he stood, gracing her with a smile. “That’s me. I’m teaching Year 12 English now.” He wrinkled his nose and brushed his lips across hers. “See ya later, beautiful.” He put his mouth to Hana’s ear and whispered, “Happy sixtieth-hour anniversary, gorgeous.” He left with a smirk on his lips and a subtle backward glance at Hana. Her lips reacted to the veiled promise in his eyes, lifting in a smile of expectation. But Caroline’s stiff back oozed a warning and the pleasure left Hana’s eyes.
Pete walked in and gave her a hard slap on the back. Hana accepted it as affection. “I’ll fetch the post,” she said and bolted. Taking advantage of the empty corridors, Hana ran and sought solace in the post room. Her boot heels clacked against the wooden floors. Once inside, she sighed with relief at the blessed space free of human interference. The glass doors betrayed her and Ethel Bowman scuttled along the corridor like a tornado, spotting Hana’s red hair from afar. She waved her photocopying in front of her while her voluminous dress billowed out behind.
Oblivious, Hana leaned against the glass and accepted a congratulatory hug from a classroom assistant. “I hope you’ll be very happy,” Barbara said, reaching up with her tiny hands and snagging her post. “Logan’s gorgeous. There’ll be a few disappointed girls now he’s off the market.”
Hana laughed, the sound dying on her lips as Barb’s face morphed into Ethel’s. The small classroom assistant peeled herself off the back of a locker door and escaped. Ethel planted her meaty hands on her hips. “I knew it!” she squawked. “Didn’t I say you two would end up together? I want to know every last detail, particularly why I didn’t get an invite.”
Hana blanched. If she told Ethel anything, she may as well publish it in the newspaper herself. The elderly woman fired questions at her like a machine gun.
“When did you start seeing each other?”
“How did he propose?”
“Where did you get married?”
“When did you do it?”
“Why didn’t you tell Aunty Ethel?”
Hana gave scant detail where possible. Her mind wandered to the hilarious witnesses and the surreal bubble of excitement surrounding her wedding day. Ethel burbled on about trivia and Hana tuned in at the name of her old street, followed by her house number on Achilles Rise. “What?” she asked, seeing Ethel’s eyes narrow. “Pardon. Say that again.”
“Well,” Ethel said. “I told him, I’ve no idea where Hana Johal shifted to. I didn’t even know you’d moved. You never said. Anyway, if you give me your new address, he’d love us to pop round. I think that’s what he said.” She cocked her head like an owl. “Yes, he said he would love to catch up with you.”
“Who would?” asked Hana, interrupting as Ethel stopped to draw breath. The older woman grew coy and shy, her cheeks flushing pink. She rolled her eyes in an attempt at a seductive look. “You know,” she whispered.
Hana shook her head. The whole conversation left her miles behind. “I don’t.”
“Our mutual friend, Mr Laval.” Ethel’s fingers fluttered across her painted lips and she gazed around the empty room. At Hana’s look of confusion, she spread her hands as though explaining a trigonometry question to a thick student.
Hana shook her head again. “I don’t know any Mr Laval. Sorry, but you’ve made a mistake.” She turned to go but Ethel grasped her wrist and Hana let out a yelp.
“But he asks me about you all the time,” she said. Her manicured eyebrows joined in the centre around a clump of wrinkles. “He knew you’d changed your car and got a young man. If I’d known it was our dear Mr Du Rose, I would’ve said so. Mr Laval knows all sorts of things from when he visited you before. He described your old house and we drove past it one day, but you weren’t in. Give me your new address and I’ll write it down for him.” Mrs Bowman moved so close to Hana, her breath moved her fringe. “You see dear, after the untimely death of Mr Bowman some years ago, I’ve been rather alone. Mr Laval is my gentleman person.” Mrs Ethel Bowman, mistress of the twisted English language, strained to find the words for what Mr Laval represented to her. She flushed at the words she chose and sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Friend?” obliged Hana and Mrs Bowman beamed.
“Exactly!” she said satisfied. “Now may I have your new address?”
She stood there with an expectant expression and Hana panicked. In a masterstroke, she blurted, “I can’t remember the full address and postcode. I’ll have to ask Logan.” She excused herself and fled in a blur, sliding out from between Ethel and the glass doors. A dreadful realisation thudded in the pit of her stomach. Mr Laval was one of the men hounding her.
Hana’s heart thudded as she ran back to the office. She entered in a rush and Caroline shot her an acid stare. Dragging out her phone, she dashed off a text to Logan. ‘Don’t tell ANYONE our phone number or address. Talk later. It’s important!’
With shattered nerves and shaking hands, she ran down the front steps to reception, aware of another person who knew her new address. Angus’ personal assistant sat at her desk typing, huffing in irritation as Hana rushed into the room without knocking. “Excuse me!” The woman rose to her feet, her face clouding in anger. Her mood lightened as she remembered seeing Angus stroll across to the boarding house and she sat back down again. “He’s not here.” Her face took on a smug expression. “You can’t see him.”
“Have you typed out the new staff list yet?” Hana demanded, hopping from one foot to the other.
The assistant shook her head and adopted a defensive stance. “I’ve been much too busy,” she asserted, bugging her eyes. Hana felt sick with the release of tension and her knees wobbled beneath her. She thudded into a seat on the other side of the desk.
“Please can you remove my address?” she asked. “It’s important.”
“I can’t do that!” The woman pulled herself up to her full height. “You must be contactable. Staff regulations.”
The thought slipped into Hana’s head and exited via her lips. She regretted the words as she heard them. “We changed our plans,” she said. “I’m moving into Logan’s house in Gordonton. Leave his alone and just add mine to that address.” A sense of cowardice flooded her veins and she prayed she wouldn’t rain her present troubles down on an inno
cent household. The woman’s eyes bulged in indignation until she remembered Angus’ announcement at briefing and then she relaxed.
“Oh, that’s right,” she simpered. “Congratulations. You married that irritating Māori.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief in expectation of a fight.”
But Hana already left.
Back in the office Hana located everyone she needed to speak to, Boris, North, even Henrietta and Angus. She knew she couldn’t settle until she spoke to them all.
The final text went through the ether to Bodie’s number.
‘I know who the crooks work for. Call me tonight. Please. Mum. X’
CHAPTER FIVE
“I don’t know if it’s enough to go on.” Bodie’s voice crackled through the connection later that evening. “It might just be the name he gave her. I bet it’s fake.”
Hana’s silence communicated her disappointment. She’d wanted him to be excited. Bodie went on, “A photo would be best really.”
Hana despaired. “How can I get that?” He didn’t see her pout.
“Is Logan there?” he asked, dismissing her in a single sentence. Hana went in search of her husband and found him in the garage. She handed the phone over and sloped off to run a bath. Her footsteps to the bedroom and back for her robe sounded despondent and heavy on the wooden floor.
Logan appeared as she turned off the tap, a gentle knock preceding his dark head. “You okay?” he asked. Hana nodded and watched as he walked in and perched on the edge of the bath, dangling his right hand in the foam. He looked thoughtful and she nodded and turned on the heated towel rail. The atmosphere grew tense as she stripped down to her knickers and blouse, hoping he left before she got naked. Her cheeks flushed with a self-conscious glow as his grey eyes studied her with interest.
“Oh, Hana.” Hauling himself up, Logan pulled her close. Dark shadows ringed his eyes and the strain of his injuries clouded his expression. Hana shivered in the damp heat and his arm around her felt welcome. She lifted her hands and ran them through his hair, feeling it slide through her fingers. He’d removed the sling and a red mark showed where it spent the day rubbing his flesh. “It’ll be okay,” he said, sounding more confident than he looked. “Nobody will find us here.”