by Bowes, K T
An hour later and Hana pushed her pram over the Claudelands Bridge into town. Amanda hadn’t been home and Tama was nowhere to be seen so she locked up and headed out, hoping her fractious baby might settle in the fresh air. Sunshine always suited Hamilton. It lifted its shoulders and puffed out its chest under the tourist-shiny-rays. Hana wandered around the shops, not buying but enjoying the action of walking and looking. She killed two hours, trailing round and visiting the numerous fountains in the city of Hamilton, enjoying the spray on her face and the wow factor of the more majestic ones.
She walked as far as the Founders’ Theatre and the fountain there. Made of delicately wrought metal, it boasted a central spoke with a spiky arrangement of metal prongs sticking out of the top. As the fine spray of water jetted from each of the prongs, the whole thing resembled a dandelion head. There were three of them dotted closely together, surrounded by the typical green of a Waikato reserve. A few family groups sat on the grass enjoying a picnic and children from one of them dashed between the fountains, emerging soaked and giggling. Hana watched them for a while smiling, catching the sound of English accents and feeling wistful. “Charlotte, come on!” a little red haired girl called, squealing from the centre of the fountains, soaked through her clothes to her fragile body.
The town traffic built from three o’clock onwards as parents moved around the city towards school pickup points. Hana set off back to school, walking at a brisk pace and allowing the physical exercise to clear her head. The path on the bridge was too narrow for a pram and a person to walk side by side comfortably. When Hana heard the sound of quick footsteps behind her, she pulled into the railing as far as she could and waited for the pedestrian to pass. He didn’t.
“Hey gorgeous,” came his deep voice and Hana visibly cringed. He trapped her against the railings, blocking the pathway, his dark eyes flashing danger. Hana’s heart thudded in her chest, sending a rush of blood to her head as her body readied itself to fight or run.
“Leave me alone!” she hissed as the man’s eyes caressed the child’s sleeping form. Laval only smiled. Cars zoomed past as a steady train of exhaust fumes into town but no other pedestrian graced the bridge. Laval’s blonde hair picked up the sunlight and he was once again in a smart business suit and tie. The top button of his shirt gaped against the loosened tie and he carried his jacket by the collar, the bulk of it slung over his left shoulder.
Before Hana could formulate her escape, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth as though it was a natural action. Hana inhaled sharply and pressed herself harder against the rail, feeling the metal bite into her rib cage through the thin material of her tee shirt. Her right hand gripped the handle of her pram and she pressed her left against his shirt, trying to force him away. Turning her face so his kiss moved across her face into her hair, Hana let out a sob of rage. “Get off me!” Her body betrayed her and it emerged as a pathetic, frightened squeak.
A school bus whizzed by, puffing a breeze of diesel fuel and hot mechanical air over them. Laval leaned in for another kiss, but Hana collected her senses and pushed hard. “No!” she shouted.
The space on the footpath was limited and her action caught him off guard. Laval stepped back to regain his balance but his neat shoe slipped off the high curb, launching him into the traffic backwards. A vehicle honked as it narrowly missed him and Laval went down forwards on his knees, the jacket dropping to the pavement and spewing keys and loose change. An expensive mobile phone clattered into the gutter. “Leave me alone!” Hana seized her moment and ran for it, pushing the pram at breakneck speed along the bridge and into the street which ran parallel with the mighty river.
She ran until her flip flops rubbed up a blister between her toes and then she took them off and kept running. Part of her hoped someone called the cops and a bigger part of her prayed they didn’t. Laval would twist it somehow, making them believe he ended an illicit tryst and drove her into a bungled attempt on his life. He must know she’d been unable to retract her statement with Odering. Maybe the boarding house is the safest place for Logan, Hana concluded. He would come for Logan and there was no doubt in Hana’s mind it was her fault.
When she reached the unit she was hot, sticky and sweating. Tama looked at her flushed cheeks and mussed hair from his position on the front step in surprise. “I’d have come for a run,” he said filled with regret.
As Tama helped her bump the pram up the steps and into the narrow hallway, Hana noticed the Honda facing the other way. “Did you use the car?” she asked.
Tama shook his head and pointed at it. “Uncle Logan drove away at lunchtime. Then he came back and dropped it off.”
“Why didn’t you get him to open the house then?” Hana asked, hearing the irritation in her own voice and feeling instantly sorry. Tama shrugged, looking miserable.
“Na, he looked a bit mad. I thought you probably told him about the Anka thing and I’ve decided - I’m too young to die.”
Hana locked the front door and left the baby sleeping in the pram. The open blisters smarted and Hana hobbled over to the sink and cleaned her feet with baby wipes, examining the raw skin and hissing as they stung. She eyed Tama as she fixed plasters over the worse cuts. He seemed more relaxed than a few months ago when his affair with Anka still burned a hole in his heart. His attitude when caught in the act seemed casual rather than devastated. “Are you and Anka back on?” she asked.
Tama shrugged and plonked himself on the sofa, watching Hana’s ministrations with a distracted air. He thought for a minute and then shook his head. “Na, bro,” he said with confidence. “This time, it was her who needed me. When I saw her outside the door I felt excited but it was different somehow. It was just sex. I don’t think I’m infatuated with her anymore; I’m cured.” He looked thrilled with himself at the realisation and Hana sighed, thinking of her old friend trying to glue her marriage back together with her husband, Ivan.
“If she’s willing to sleep with you so easily, her marriage rebuild can’t be going well.”
“Dunno,” Tama answered, flicking the television on. “We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t talk about anything really.” A slight smirk raised the corners of his lips and Hana shook her head.
“You do that in my home again and it won’t just be Logan you’ll be scared of, Tama.”
He glanced at her and nodded, teenage arrogance in full swing. Hana rubbed at her sore spine where the rail of the bridge bruised the bone and switched the kettle on to boil. Dehydrated after running all the way home, she sighed, in need of a shower and a drink. “What’s this?” she asked and Tama grunted, not listening. On the countertop sat a gift bag with her name on it in neat, slanted handwriting. Logan’s. Hana fought a wave of guilt and peered inside. A box peeked out with an expensive mobile phone pictured on its shiny surface. Hana pulled it out with tentative fingers.
The box proclaimed the device could text, email, run apps she didn’t even recognise, take photographs and play music. A logo declared GPS and navigation tools. Hana bit her lip, guilt turning her lips downwards. “It’s from Logan,” she whispered.
“What?” Tama replied, not interested. Hana fiddled with the box, managing to extract the phone to see the screen. It displayed one cell of battery and she discovered a charger already plugged into the wall. Hana plugged the phone in, hearing a muted ting of satisfaction from its speaker. The screen displayed an unopened envelope in the top corner and Hana swallowed in dread. Before pressing the flashing icon, she paused, gnawing on her bottom lip. It couldn’t be Laval, unless Logan transferred her old number from the broken phone. Hana’s hands shook in anticipation, knowing she couldn’t destroy this one too.
She straightened her back, gritted her teeth and pressed the envelope. Exhaling in a whoosh, she recognised Logan’s number and his name appeared at the top.
‘Sorry babe,’ it said, ‘I shouldn’t have accepted without talking to you first. I have my reasons and don’t want to argue over it. I’ve been to the drop in
clinic and got more meds. Sorry for getting mad at you. Come and see me after dinner. I’ll make it up to you.’
Hana smiled and hugged the phone to her chest. It was bright pink, presumably so she couldn’t lose it again. An icon showed GPS as loaded, whatever that meant. “Look.” She turned and showed the phone to Tama, who abandoned the cartoon, seeming suitably impressed.
“Ooh, that’s a top of the range one!” he gushed. “Lucky! Give it here.” He stretched the charger cord over the counter to the sofa and entertained himself with a game of cards. “Love solitaire,” he breathed and Hana shook her head.
“I thought you’d show me how to email and stuff,” she sulked and he nodded but didn’t stop his game.
“Ah, what!” He played against himself, swearing and complaining it wasn’t fair when one of him lost against the other him.
Phoenix’s tummy rose like a hill in her tiny body as she lay on a plastic change mat in the lounge kicking her little legs around and jerking as the hammering on the front door began. Hana started and put her hand over her mouth, looking to Tama for help. “He’s found me!” she panicked, her green eyes wide in her porcelain face.
The usually laid back teenager jumped to his feet and peered through the kitchen window. “It’s ok,” he said relieved, “it’s not Laval, just your son.”
Hana knelt on the floor with the baby, taking shallow, calming breaths while Tama opened the door. Bodie stepped past with a look of disgust at the teen, but he was not alone. Six-year-old Jas pushed his way through the tall male bodies, like a pixie darting through trees in a forest of legs. He ran straight to Hana and hugged her around her shoulders. “Hi, Hanny,” he said as he loved her cheek with tiny butterfly kisses.
He clutched Action Man bungee jumper in his small hand, the doll wearing a pair of speedos with biro scribble on his plastic arms and most of his body. Toilet roll spewed out the sides of the speedos and Hana reached for the action figure. “What happened to him?” she asked Jas, curious.
He humphed at her, posturing as though she was stupid until he registered the look on his father’s face and changed his attitude. “It’s ta moko tattoos,” he said, his voice strained. “For his gynaecology. He’s Poppa Logan. I done it myself.” He looked down at the blue biro scribble. “But it went wrong so I had to get it off with a scratchy pad in the sink. Then I did that arm instead. I quite liked it so I gived him leg ones and back ones as well.” He tipped the doll up sideways and a dribble of water ran through the gap where his legs joined. “He was brave in the tattoo part but I don’t think he liked the sink. Look see, he’s been peeing himself ever since.”
Jas flicked the doll upright and a jet of soapy water landed on the baby’s bare tummy, causing her to jump and pull a sad-face. Hana mopped it up with a towel and blew a raspberry on her tummy to distract her. The baby smiled and went back to her floor aerobics. “It’s genealogy sweetheart,” Hana smiled at her grandson. “Whakapapa.”
“What is?” Jas asked and Hana withheld the exasperated sigh on her lips.
“Not gynaecology, genealogy.”
“Oh,” the child replied, no longer interested. Tama and Bodie stood opposite each other, posturing like a couple of bantams. Hana left Jas on the floor doing raspberries on Phoenix’s olive rounded belly, making wet noises with his lips. She hoped there wasn’t spit involved.
“Drink anyone?” she asked, making herself a cup of tea and fetching cold water in response to the male grunts.
Tama told Bodie about his agriculture course at college, due to start in a few weeks and the older man listened with feigned politeness. “Yeah, Uncle Logan thinks it will come in useful for my work on the farm.”
“Oh, really?” Bodie replied, eyeing the young man with suspicion. “You don’t need accounting to cook the books then?”
Tama pulled a face and sneered in derision. Neither particularly liked the other. Bodie’s dislike was official as a cop, knowing the young man enjoyed a tendency to sail too close to the wind and Tama disliked Bodie for exactly the same reason, just from the other perspective.
“Try not to screw it up,” Bodie said and Hana winced, sensing his condescension was deliberate, not accidental.
She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Please could you watch Phoe for me? I need to go for a shower.”
Before anyone could reply, Jas let out a vigorous, “Oh no!”
Hana peered between the shoulders of her guests, unable to see what happened.
“Hanny,” Jas said miserably, “I think maybe it was the tattoo what did it. I was doing my bestest joined up writing and now she’s leaking as well!”
There were lots of tears. Phoenix wasn’t upset by the words Made in China, faintly inscribed on her stomach in blue biro, but didn’t enjoy laying in her pee. Jas cried at his father’s shocked expression and because everything he tattooed appeared to develop a terrible leaking fault. Tama cried tears of genuine mirth because he’d never witnessed anything so hilarious in his whole life and Hana just felt like crying.
Instead of a peaceful shower alone, she ended up bathing her daughter in the kitchen sink to get the wee out of her hair. Jas sobbed out an apology and then pulled a chair up to the sink to watch Hana wrestle with the soapy baby. She tried to keep her patience as he instructed her on how to do it better, sounding just like his father. “That’s exactly what I did to Action Man and he’s been leaking since yesterday!”
Hana bit back the urge to scream as Phoenix wriggled and kicked in the sink, wound up by Jas’ loud presence. She made a valiant effort to be patient and gracious with the children.
“Who fancies a toasted sandwich?” Tama offered, eyeing the pantry hopefully.
“Yeah, good idea,” Hana agreed, hoping he didn’t make too much mess. The stressed mother dressed her baby and left her with Bodie so she could finally go for a shower and put the dreadful afternoon behind her. She emerged from her bedroom to find her daughter snoozing in her son’s arms and the boys scoffing bread like it was going out of fashion.
Hana took the baby so Bodie could eat using both hands, sitting on the sofa to feed her child with a sigh. “Thanks,” she said to her son. “I needed a shower to wake me up. I miss the one at home though.” Her voice sounded wistful.
She felt self-conscious feeding with the men in the room and pulled her tee shirt over the little girl’s head to hide what she was doing. The baby gripped the cloth and moved her arm up and down, causing a draught. Hana smiled at the developing motor skills in her child, loving the soft downy head and fragile body. Thoughts of Laval pressed into her mind, removing the sense of peace and leaving her numb. She jumped as Jas poked his head around Bodie’s shoulder and demanded. “Hanny, what ya doing?”
Hana bit back the sarcastic retort, answering instead with a lightness she didn’t feel. “I’m giving her dinner.”
Jas peeped so far around his father, he almost toppled off his chair. He overbalanced and his knife whipped up into the air, flicking a glob of tomato sauce into his eye. Bodie sighed, retrieved the dishcloth from the sink and wiped it off. “Get on with your dinner,” he told him, “and stop leaning over me.”
Hana’s son seemed tense and upset, controlling Jas with exaggerated eye movements and fostering an uncomfortable atmosphere. Hana wondered what was wrong but couldn’t summon the energy to pry. She fed Logan’s daughter and missed her husband, wanting his calming influence and the sense of safety he possessed. She remembered his text message and smirked, her spirits rising in anticipation of restoring their relationship after their earlier spat.
“Hanny,” Jas’s face peered back around Bodie’s shoulder and she looked up, popping Phoenix over her shoulder to bring up her wind. “Who was that man?”
Hana looked confused and pulled a face. “What man?”
“You know,” he said, filling his mouth with toastie and choking as he tried to finish his sentence, “the man on the bridge what kissed you.”
Hana felt a rush of blood to her feet
as it drained from her face. She busied herself with the baby, wiping the rosebud lips and switching her to feed on the other breast. She kept silent, not wishing to make a liar of the little boy.
“Hanny,” came Jas’s voice again and she tried not to flee from the room screaming. “Did he hurt himself when he fell into the traffic?”
Hana worked at keeping her composure, involving herself with the baby. “I don’t know what you mean, love,” she said, her tone deliberately nonchalant. When she glanced up, Bodie’s body language was rigid and foreboding and Tama stared at her for so long, his toastie bent limply downwards in his fingers. His eyes narrowed in question and Hana gulped. Phoenix fed herself to sleep and Hana found she couldn’t cope once Jas started prattling on about road safety and singing a song about a bear that helped people cross the road.
“I’ll just lay her down,” Hana whispered, walking to the baby’s bedroom on shaking legs. She wrapped her sleeping daughter in a cotton blanket, laying her on her side. Activating the baby monitor, she returned to the lounge and before anyone could comment, Hana switched on the receiver and thrust it at Tama. “She won’t wake up for an hour or two. You’ll be fine.”
Grabbing her phone, she made a run for it, pulling the front door closed behind her as she skipped down the steps. Once outside, Hana struggled to deal with the adrenaline coursing through her body. The cost of Laval’s visits became higher each time and lying about them went against Hana’s moral code. I’m a bad person, she thought to herself, racking her brain for a solution and coming up empty every time.
Unnerved and shaking, Hana sought husband in the boarding house. She found him in the downstairs office, sorting through a pile of invoices. “Hey, gorgeous,” Logan smiled, glancing up. “Where’s Phoe?”