by Bowes, K T
Hana decided she could break out of the corner if she rammed the pram forward into the chairs. It would wake the baby and cause a huge noise, but be enough to force everyone to look at her. It might disarm Laval enough for her to get away. But where would I go? Hana asked herself miserably. He would follow her into the car park and then she would be more vulnerable. Her days of leaping into a vehicle and locking the doors were over. She had a pram to dismantle and a baby to put into a car seat before she even contemplated closing the doors, let alone locking them.
“It’s rude to ignore a text, gorgeous,” Laval said and Hana tried to tune back in, shaking her head to clear it and keeping one hand firmly on the pram in case she changed her mind. She didn’t answer him and Laval show his nerve by growing impatient with her. “What happened at the station?” he asked and there was veiled threat in his voice. “I sincerely hope you didn’t go to report our little conversation.”
Hana gritted her teeth. She’d had enough. Please help me Lord, she begged in her head before taking a deep breath and standing up, pushing the pram through the chairs and making a din as they scraped across the tiled floor. Everyone looked up. Hana shoved her way through, thankful Phoenix didn’t wake.
She moved to the front door, barging her way through as someone else tried to come in. The unsuspecting woman leapt back as Hana forced her way out, muttering in a German accent, “Ach zeze people’s so rude!”
Hana ran, looking back as she got to her vehicle. Through the glass window of the cafe, she saw the couple from the table opposite talking to Laval. He mopped at his trousers and shirt and the woman held her hand over her mouth, looking tearful. Her companion waved his arms as though apologising.
Hana thanked God with all her heart as she shoved the baby into her car seat and fastened the straps with shaking hands. She didn’t dismantle the pram, dumping the frame into the huge boot sideways and ramming the lid shut. She was in the vehicle with the doors locked and pulling out of the car park before Laval escaped the other occupants of the cafe. Anger gritted his teeth and he shook his head at her.
“Thank you God, thank you,” she sobbed with genuine tears. Hana drove blindly, not sure where to go. She remembered her promise to meet Logan, but it was too early. Feeling vulnerable, Hana went to St Bart’s and her staff house, pulling the car into the small road and hiding it between the kitchen fitter’s truck and the painter’s van. It was a tight squeeze but hid the Honda from both ends of the road.
Taking Phoenix from the car, Hana went into the unit through the open door and gasped in wonder. From end to end the place was painted in a pleasant ivory colour. The worn, dirty lino was gone, replaced by new laminate flooring which resembled planks of beech. The windows were clean and the high bushes cut away from the building, admitting more light and making the rooms appear larger. Hana felt her frazzled spirits lift as she stood in the centre of what would be the kitchen-dining room-lounge and turned slowly on the spot, cuddling her baby.
A noise behind made Hana start and spin around, her eyes huge in her face and her features possessed by sheer terror. “No!” she gasped.
The painter carried a set of ladders and put them down, approaching her but not sure what to do. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He reached out for her but retracted his arm, worried about her reaction if he touched her. She looked volatile and it made him afraid.
Hana struggled for control and ran a shaking hand over her eyes. “It’s ok, I shouldn’t be here. It’s not your fault.” As sanity returned to her lovely face, she smiled at him and stumbled down the small steps onto the road. Outside she lifted her head up to the sky and gulped, knowing she couldn’t go on like this.
A voice behind her caused her to jump again and Phoenix, having had enough, put her head low, stuck out her bottom lip and wailed. Real tears ran down her face and Hana cuddled the baby into her, trying not to cry herself. “Don’t cry, baby, I’m sorry.”
Angus took one look at Hana and knew something was wrong. “Come and have tea with me. I’ve some lovely wee Scottish shortbreads I’m willing to share.” He tried to lead her across the field to the main building, but Hana dug her heels in and refused to go.
“I’m sorry, Angus. Don’t make me go over there at the moment. I just can’t.”
Conceding, Angus turned Hana towards St Bart’s main entrance and persuaded her to follow him inside the boarding house. He took her upstairs to the staff restroom, a small area where the kitchen workers and boarding house managers took their breaks. There were three small bedrooms adjacent which were used by the staff responsible for the boys during the night. Two were on duty at any one time. One would sleep, accessible in case of emergency while the other stayed awake. They changed shifts at a set time. The matron, a gentle, mousey woman in her late fifties bustled in to change the sheets on the bed in the middle room. “Don’t mind me,” she chimed.
Logan told Hana although he knew the sheets were changed after every rotation, he still preferred to take his own pillow and sleeping bag. At the thought of Logan, Hana’s eyes filled with tears and she joined the baby in a crying session which took Angus completely by surprise.
He was kind, making tea at the kitchen end of the big room and disappearing to find her a large towel from the matron to breastfeed Phoenix underneath. Hana sat on the sofa and dried her eyes and from underneath the starched cloth came the sound of the baby making clicking noises in the roof of her mouth as she fed, interspersed by the ‘hitch-hitch’, left over from her sobbing.
Hana felt like she walked out of a train wreck and thought she looked like it too. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. “Please don’t ask me?” she begged Angus as he sat opposite her, looking expectant.
“Hana, I have to,” he said. “I need to know if I can help.”
Hana shook her head. “No, you can’t. Not at all.”
“I haven’t seen you upset like this for a long time, not since that business last year.”
Another tear trailed down, diving off the curve of Hana’s cheek and abandoning itself in the drying towel. She wiped it away, feeling worse when another immediately replaced it. “Don’t ask me,” she whispered, “It’s not something I can tell anyone. I don’t know what to do.”
Angus made a sound with his lips and asked her quietly, “What about your husband? Could you…”
Hana didn’t let him finish. “No!” she cried. “No, please say nothing to Logan.”
The baby stopped feeding and give a little shudder under the cloth. Hana needed to keep it together for Phoenix. The little girl picked up her mother’s anxiety and it made her fretful, introducing fear into her new world. Hana concentrated on steadying her breathing and thinking calm thoughts which didn’t involve Michael Laval Junior and his terrifying brand of charm. “I’ll be fine,” she said, as much for herself as to convince Angus.
Hana fed and winded the baby, changed her nappy and gathered herself together. Angus was a patient, gentle companion, one reason they’d become friends in the fifteen years Hana worked for him. He kept the conversation light, chatting about the renovations at the unit and how it inspired him to upgrade all the staff houses, a few at a time. He talked about Chris Carter’s wife Amanda, who would move in next door to Hana soon. “You’ll like her,” he said. “She’s very down-to-earth and easy to get along with. You’ll be great company for each other.”
The noise level in the building increased as boys came back for morning interval and Angus took Hana downstairs to the front office to give her keys to her unit. “I got the locks changed. They were ancient and we’ve lost track of who had keys.”
The small office was neat and tidy with windows on every side, allowing the occupant to watch the common areas, including the corridor to the dining room. The desk contained little piles of paperwork and Hana smiled at the image of Logan tidying. It bore the hallmarks of his handiwork. As Angus handed over a set of shiny new keys, Hana sensed her husband’s presence and sought him.
He appeared from the dining room, flanked by two Year 10 boys. Both possessed faces like thunder clouds, but Logan seemed composed.
Phoenix turned her gaze towards her father as though both females were linked to him through an invisible cord. Logan’s eyes moved in their direction but showed no recognition.
“It’s mirrored,” Angus said. “He can’t see you.” He grew silent and they watched as Logan bent towards the two sullen faces and asked them a question. Both boys shrugged, denying knowledge of something and Logan stood up straight again. He was unperturbed and the boys watched him covertly as he leaned against the wall opposite with a casual air.
From his trouser pocket, he pulled a stick of chewing gum and unwrapped it, popping it between his lips. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his expensive fitted trousers and leaned back, bending his right leg at the knee and resting the sole of his cowboy boot on the wall. His dark hair flopped into his eyes, and his muscles rippled through the sleeves of his shirt. There was a paradox about Logan as though he equally casual and dangerous. He remained in position, looking like he had all the time in the world. He put his head back, closed his eyes and chewed his gum, his face expressionless.
Hana watched, her brows knitted. It took thirty seconds for the first boy to crack. As other boys poured from the dining room brandishing cookies and sausage rolls, the second boy made a good decision and Logan looked at them with indifference both spoke at once.
Hana heard a low chuckle from Angus and turned, confused. “What did he do?”
Angus looked at her as a benevolent uncle might. “He was doing what Logan does best; getting the answers he wanted without fuss.”
Hana nodded but without understanding. “Do they teach you that at training college?” she asked innocently.
Angus put his head back and roared with laughter, making the baby jump. “Possibly, my dear, but he learned that from me!”
Chapter 12
Angus walked Hana back to the unit as the bell rang for the end of the morning break. Boys poured from St Bart’s and ran the distance to the main school, bags bumping on backs and food hastily shoved into mouths. They crossed the orchard like locusts and disappeared.
The adults stood next to the Honda in the sun and watched the exodus. “What did you mean by your comment?” Hana asked.
Angus leaned against the side of Hana’s car and smiled at a distant memory. “I withdrew Logan from class once at the North Shore Grammar school. There were rumours among the hostel staff and wanted the truth. I was the Year 11 dean and pulled the same moves as you just saw, complete with gum and the foot on the wall. I hadn’t realised he took so much notice. It worked and he’s obviously spent the last twenty years honing it to perfection. I must admit, I hadn’t worked out how to put the ‘sexy’ into it but he’s nailed it.” Angus chuckled, his eyes flashing pride.
“Why did you withdraw Logan from class?”
Angus’ forehead creased in concentration and he pushed his bifocal glasses further up his pointed nose. “Let’s see,” he said, his Scots accent leaking through as a slow lilt. “Ah yes, I remember! His mother sent sweets for his birthday, ‘lollies’ they call them here don’t they? There was also a rather large birthday cake. Instead of sharing, Logan sold it piece by piece and made a profit.” Angus sniggered. “Exceptionally enterprising was our Mr Du Rose. I remember asking him why he needed the money. He said he wanted to go back to England...something about a girl on a train.” Angus raised his eyebrows and observed Hana sideways.
“Oh.” She sighed and remembered the gangly teenager who fell in love with her on a tube train, even though she hardly noticed him. Hana looked at the baby in her arms who twenty-six years later inherited those same intense grey eyes. “What was so bad about selling the lollies?”
Angus made a noise with his lips and ran a hand over his forehead. “Nothing, in principle,” he said. “But it got our Mr Du Rose onto something of a business streak. He worked out what the valuable commodities were within our little community and then he sold them.”
“Isn’t that good?” Hana pulled a face, perplexed.
“Not when you’ve marked the same person’s homework under thirty different names, it isn’t,” said the maths-teacher-turned-school-principal. “I drew the line at selling assignments. He was always an intelligent boy, soaked up information like a sponge. It was little effort for him to do other people’s homework as long as they made it worth his while. Poetic letters to other people’s girlfriends were a specialty, I believe. I’m sure there were many young ladies in love with your husband, instead of their own spotty young man who returned for the holidays!”
He laughed again and Hana smirked, trying not to join in. “There’s no wonder he turned into a business tycoon,” Angus said, “that kind of acumen isn’t learned, it’s home grown.” He turned to leave, waving behind him as he set off for the main school.
“Angus,” Hana called after him, seeing him turn at the end of the street. “How long did it take before Logan cracked?”
Angus pulled a face and called back, “Forty-five bloody long minutes. I had a cramp in my leg by the end.” He set off walking and Hana heard him laugh to himself as he reached the green grass of the manicured cricket field. She bet the groundsman didn’t tell him off for walking over it.
“Not on the bloody crease!” she muttered in the groundsman’s deep voice.
With an hour to go before she met Logan, Hana wasn’t sure how to use it. Another vehicle sat on the road behind the painter’s van and Hana investigated the unit next to hers. The front door stood open and a baby car seat sat in a narrow hallway. Hana called out and knocked on the doorjamb. “Hello? Anyone home?”
A dark haired woman appeared from a bedroom. With a pretty face, she carried too much weight for her slender frame. She sported enormous brown eyes and long eyelashes which fluttered nervously as she saw Hana. Advancing slowly down the hallway, she eyed Hana like a venomous snake. Hana sensed her unease and the smile faded from her lips.
“Hi Amanda,” she said, deciding Angus was mistaken about them becoming friends. “I’m Hana. My husband and I live next door temporarily...well, when it’s finished. Angus said you were moving in soon.” Hana’s voice trailed away and she turned to leave, thwarted. “I’ll come back another day; I can see you’re busy.”
Hana turned as the woman let out a huge breath and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Sorry,” she said, “I thought you might have been her. Chris said she’d been hanging around lately. I don’t think I can face her at the moment.”
“Face who?” Hana asked, regretting the question the moment it left her mouth. Caroline. “Actually,” she said charitably, “don’t answer that. I know exactly who you mean.”
Amanda invited Hana into her unit, revealing several suitcases littered over the floor. Hana stepped through the mess, waving away Amanda’s excuses. “I’m unpacking, but I’m sure I can find cups if I try hard enough.”
A car seat in the middle of the living room contained a baby girl of a year old, fast asleep on the fringes of the mayhem. A blanket lay on the new laminate floor near a gas fire and a jungle gym reached over it. “Why don’t you lay your baby underneath the gym? She’s little but she might be interested in the shapes and colours,” Amanda suggested, indicating the yellow bridge with its dangly objects.
Phoenix stared for a while, waving her arms but reaching none of the shapes. Eventually she lost interest and went to sleep with her full stomach. Hana took off her cardigan and laid it over her sleeping baby, looking around at the detritus strewn across the floor.
“Hey, how about I help you?” Hana offered. “I’ve nothing else to do right now; I’d like to.” Amanda seemed glad of the assistance and between them they put the unit in order. Hana unpacked the suitcases and brought the clothing to the bedroom in piles for her new friend to put away in the drawer units and freestanding wardrobes. There were boxes of pots, pans and crockery, which went into the brand new kitchen cu
pboards and then between them; they straightened out the furniture and made it cosy. “It looks like a home now,” Amanda commented. “It was such a dump before.”
Hana slumped onto the comfy sofa, admiring the bold black pattern on a cream background. “Did you pick this?” she asked. “It looks good quality and very stylish.”
“No,” Amanda answered, shaking her head. “Angus said your husband ordered everything. He has good taste; it must have cost a fortune. The bed’s new and feels comfy too.” She paused in her task of filling the kettle. “I’ve unpacked the sheets but still need to make it before tonight. Otherwise I’ll get busy with Millie and discover it still unmade just as I’m desperate to fall into it.”
“I’ll do it,” Hana offered, checking Phoenix was still asleep.
“Thanks.” Amanda switched the kettle on and lifted the sheets and duvet cover off the back of an armchair. Hana closed and locked the front door. The last thing she needed was a visit from either Caroline or Laval while her baby lay defenceless on the floor.
The sheets looked new and the items Hana fetched were female. It didn’t appear as though Amanda intended to let her husband move back in with her. “I met Chris yesterday,” Hana said as they fitted pillowcases over the new pillows.
Amanda met her gaze with a look of with sadness and betrayal. “I suppose you know what he did?” she said.
Hana shook her head. “I know what I’ve heard he did,” she said, “but I’m also aware what a liar Caroline Marsh is!”
Amanda’s eyes widened at the bile in Hana’s voice. It seemed uncharacteristic of the gentle redhead who helped her set the unit straight. The housing difficulties in Amanda’s life were only a tiny part of the damage her philandering husband caused. The emotional scars would take longer to heal. Amanda sighed. “Angus was extraordinarily kind, allowing me back into a staff house even though me and Chris are still officially separated.”