New Du Rose Matriarch

by Bowes, K T

  “Nothing, it’s silly. Don’t worry.” Hana ran a hand in agitation across her forehead finding it clammy. Logan saw the shutter come down, guarding her from his scrutiny and decided to leave it. For now. He pulled her reluctant body into him and kissed the side of her head, feeling her body tense under his hands. It worried him. “I missed you,” he said into her hair. “Did you miss me?”

  “No,” said Hana spitefully and then regretted it, “I let the baby stay in bed with me.”

  “Oh, ok,” Logan sounded hurt.

  Hana couldn’t stop the prickly persona, even though Logan was the last person she wanted to alienate. She tried to compose herself enough to give him a tentative smile, knowing he’d see straight through it. “I wanted to ask you to dinner,” he said in response. “I need your help with something.”

  “That’s nice,” Hana sighed, craving normality. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I’ll come and get you after work,” he said. “We should talk too.”

  “What about the baby?” Hana asked as he kissed her forehead and turned to go.

  “Bring her.” he said, “It’ll be fine.”

  Hana suppressed her guilt for feeling disappointed, wanting time with Logan by herself. His allusion to talking sounded ominous. She peeped into the pram at the sleeping baby, loving her smooth olive skin and dark eyelashes. “I adore you baby and can’t imagine life without you, but sometimes I’d love the luxury of not having to plan my whole life around your next feed.”

  Hana trudged back to the unit with a heavy heart and leaden feet, ignoring the tensing of her heart as Phoenix woke the second the pram wheels touched the hallway floor. Hana sat grumpily on the sofa, denied the opportunity to go to the bathroom. The meeting with Laval loomed before her like a spectre of doom, chilling her to the bone in the humid lounge.

  Tama tried to ask her about the walk but Hana was uncommunicative and short with him, so even he bailed on her, kicking a rugby ball around with a class of Year 9s doing sports studies with Logan.

  Chapter 22

  Logan attended a departmental meeting and arrived home after six o’clock. Hana tried to make up for her earlier behaviour, wearing a racy, light summer dress and piling up her hair. She made a special effort with her attitude and sported a tight smile.

  Tama nonchalantly played a game on his phone, sprawled face down on the defiled rug in the lounge. Hana eyed both offending tousled objects and wondered which she should throw out first - the rug or the boy. She hoped him laying on it might blot off the memory of him and Anka.

  “I’m ready,” she said with enthusiasm to her husband, holding up a baby who for once, wasn’t wearing a sleep suit but a cute sailor dress. Phoenix’s bare legs and feet retracted up it making her look like a floating midget.

  “Cool,” Logan replied, appraising Hana with his eyes, his pupils dilating with desire. He leaned in a kissed his wife, confusing her with his look of disappointment. “Let’s go then.” He shoved Tama with the toe of his black cowboy boot. “Get up, idiot.”

  Tama squinted up at his uncle in confusion and Hana’s heart sank. Great, she seethed inwardly, a family dinner.

  Hana lugged the car seat out to the Honda while Tama hunted for his shoes and Logan waited to lock up, holding his daughter in one strong arm. Hana eyed his rippling muscles and the veins standing out on his forearm covetously and wished for some alone time with him. Then she spied Amanda and her face drooped with misery. The other woman collected her washing from the communal clothes line and Hana avoided her gaze.

  “We ready?” Logan asked cheerfully and Hana waited for him to unlock the vehicle but as he turned, he looked bemused. “Oh sorry, we’re walking. We don’t need the car.”

  Hana’s shoulders slumped and she traipsed back up the steps and dumped the car seat in the hallway, hoping she didn’t break her neck on it in the dark when they got home. “Do you want the pram instead?” she asked Logan and he shook his head, volunteering to carry Phoenix.

  To Hana’s surprise and abject misery, Logan strode off with Tama towards the boarding house. Hana clip-clopped along in her heels, feeling increasingly cheated with every step. As they reached the outer door of the reception, Logan turned to them both. “Ok, I need you to do this exactly as I say. Tama, you ask for chicken curry and Hana, you ask for cabbage soup.”

  Hana’s mouth dropped open as Tama said, “Yummy,” under his breath and she started to complain.

  With her face puckered like a small, obstinate child, Hana whined, “But I don’t want cabbage soup!”

  Logan put his hand in the air, stopping her rant before she got going. “It’s ok,” he said conspiratorially, “I don’t think you’ll get it.”

  “But I’m hungry,” said Hana feebly, feeling like Oliver Twist, “what will I do then?”

  Logan’s eyes lit up hopefully. “Then ask for the leek pie.”

  Hana pulled a face and Tama offered to swap with her but Logan intervened. “No, keep it that way round, please.” He narrowed his eyes at Hana’s pouting face. “But I don’t think you’ll get the pie either,” he said with a strange light in his eyes. Logan set off through the heavy front doors and Tama and Hana trotted behind like ducklings. Hungry ducklings, Hana thought, making a mental note to eat before she left home, next time Logan invited her to dinner.

  The din inside the dining room was overwhelming. The vaulted ceiling caused the noise to collect in the apex and dive onto the heads of the occupants, a cacophony of laughing, yelling and scoffing. Hana peered around, seeing boys she knew filling their faces as though it was their last meal. They talked with their mouths open, waved cutlery at each other to accentuate their point and burped with abandon. It was such a male environment Hana felt conspicuous. The boys suddenly noticed her presence and her heart sank as she realised the implications of that small fact.

  Cursing Angus Blair’s brand of old fashioned etiquette, Hana stood shamefaced as the prefects spotted her and made every last male child in the room stand to attention. “Lady present!” came the booming voice of the head student. She wanted to die on the spot. She tried to look appreciative as chairs scraped backwards to disgorge backsides and one hundred faces turned in her direction, many still chewing. Hana swallowed, feeling like she’d entered a field of cows uninvited. Her mortification lessened as they sat and continued their meal, reviving as she heard her name squealed enthusiastically from the other side of the room and everyone look back at her again.

  “Missis Du Rose,” peeled James, leaping from his seat and running to her. He threw his arms around her neck and Logan looked at her with suspicion. Tama grinned and gave his uncle a familiar look and they both smirked. James unwrapped himself from Hana and made a lurch at Logan for the baby. Logan looked unsure and held her high above James’ head, causing the Asian boy to bounce up and down like he was trying to catch a balloon.

  Hana touched Logan’s arm and nodded it was fine. “James always wants to cuddle Phoe,” she reassured her husband. “I trust him.”

  Logan reluctantly lowered the child and James seized her, taking off to the other side of the room. In his unique Korean accent, James headed to a table of friends calling excitedly, “See, I am with child.”

  Sniggering issued from both the queue and the amassed testosterone at the tables. Logan looked like he struggled to hold it in and Tama didn’t bother, snorting and guffawing like a primary school child. Hana glared crossly at them until they regained their composure. “Idiots!” she hissed. “Bloody kiwi homophobes!”

  It was ineffectual and every time Logan or Tama caught the other’s eye, they snorted. Hana became fed up as the offer of dinner looked more and more uninviting. “Pack it in!” she reiterated with suitable menace, but it was a complete waste of time.

  “I can’t see any cabbage soup,” she moaned, looking round the dining room. “Not a single darn bowl.” The realisation cheered her. “Maybe it’s all gone.” She settled in the queue to read the various printed menus display
ed along the wall of the dining room. Cabbage soup and leek pie were both there and Hana’s appetite depleted the closer she got.

  Tama looked pleased with his chicken curry and added a healthy portion of rice, courtesy of the youngish female server who appreciated the seductive wink he gave her. Logan chose a beef thing that looked nice, but waited expectantly for Hana as she asked for her meal through gritted teeth. “I’d love the cabbage soup, please,” she said without enthusiasm. The dark haired girl behind the counter ogled Logan shamelessly, making Hana feel uncomfortable. Her name badge said, Tahlia, with kitchen supervisor scrawled in italics underneath. She called Logan by his first name, fluttering her eyelashes and doing the little-wiggle-thing that tarty girls did suggestively with their hips.

  The fact dulled Hana’s delight at being told the cabbage soup was all gone, but then she realised she’d be stuck with leek pie. “There’s none of that either,” the girl informed her sullenly, not once removing her eyes from Logan’s well shaped masculinity.

  “What a pity!” Hana said woodenly, adding under her breath, “Because I’d love to pour it over your lecherous head.”

  “Aye? What?” the server intoned and Hana smiled an enforced grimace. She almost danced a victorious jig, following Logan to their table with a portion of chicken curry and rice balanced on her plate, looking back as the pretty dark haired girl stared longingly after Hana’s husband.

  “They didn’t give you as much rice as me,” Tama said, peering at the small mound on Hana’s plate.

  “That’s because I don’t have a penis!” she snapped, contemplating the congealed mess plopped onto her plate like prison food.

  “Thanks babe,” Logan said, squeezing her fingers as he pressed his long legs over the bench and underneath the table. “I might get you to do that again.”

  “Get stuffed,” Hana replied, having no intention of eating cabbage soup, not even to humour her husband. Nor did she feel like witnessing his adoring fans at close range. The culmination of her abysmal day resulted in a fit of thinly supressed temper and Logan’s brow furrowed. Hana didn’t dare return his gaze, knowing she was pushing her luck. To cap it all, Pete sat at the table next to Tama, keeping the other two men between him and her. He peeked around them intermittently at Hana, eyeing her like a dangerous specimen.

  On the other side of the room, James held Phoenix under her tiny armpits and bounced her little feet up and down on his thighs. The baby grinned. Hana knew it would end in tears even before the jet of creamy liquid projected straight into James’s face, because she’d only just fed her. There came a whoop of laughter and the baby was restored back to her parents while James went for a shower.

  Tama finished and strode off to put his crockery onto the conveyor belt on one wall of the dining room. Passing Hana he leaned down and said quietly in her ear, “You’re giving it all away tonight, babe.”

  Hana knew he was right but couldn’t regain control. She was seconds away from Logan asking her what the problem was and this time; he wouldn’t let her go until he knew. Even so, when Logan took her plate as she shifted the sicky baby over her shoulder and asked her if she wanted dessert, she couldn’t resist the urge. “Maybe poo pie would be nice.”

  That was it. She knew she was in big trouble as the handsome man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Seizing the door keys from the table, Hana scarpered back to the unit. Logan arrived home with Tama later, displaying all the dismaying signs of annoyance at his wife. Despite living in a shoe box, Hana miraculously managed to avoid him all evening by taking the baby into the tiny bath with her. By the time Logan came to bed after watching television with Tama, Hana had fed and put the baby to bed in her cot and was successfully faking sleep.

  The next morning, Logan went to the school gym with Tama. Hana didn’t know if the teenager wanted to go, but she heard the door slam and the sound of their voices going past the window. Phoenix woke up joyful, cooing and singing to herself for a happy five minutes while Hana not only managed to change her nappy, but also go to the toilet before the feed-me-or-I’m-going-to-die noises became urgent.

  Logan returned sweating, the happy endorphins induced by exercise coursing through his veins. He took a quick shower and came to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Dread for her meeting with Laval later occupied Hana’s mind and she enacted her own personal rebellion, staying in bed reading a trashy magazine. She knew it wouldn’t help but at least she could control a tiny part of her day if she wanted. Every time she thought about his penetrating brown eyes, sickness roiled her stomach and it occurred to her that a meeting at Day’s Landing might not be enough. Bodie’s warning came to her unbidden, given during their disastrous self-defence lessons. Never move location, he said. Always stay in public view and don’t go anywhere with them.

  Logan sat on the bed and pulled Hana into his armpit. She smelled shower gel and shampoo and felt the bristles he hadn’t yet shaved off, grazing the side of her face. She put her arm around his stomach, pulling herself in closer and willing him not to ask what was wrong or show an interest in her plans for the day. Hana sighed as Logan fiddled with a lock of her hair between his index finger and thumb. “I love your hair,” he sighed. “It was the thing which made me notice this hot, pregnant eighteen-year-old, twenty-six years ago; the way the invasive strip lights of the tube train caught the colours in your hair.” He sighed and smoothed it flat to her head. “Do you wanna know what I was trying to do last night?”

  Hana shook her head into his chest. “Poison me?” she asked. “Or give me the worst dinner of my whole life?” She sounded cute he laughed and kissed the top of her head.

  “Na,” he answered, “I’ll tell you for a kiss.”

  Hana shook her head grumpily. “Haven’t cleaned my teeth.”

  Logan pulled her into the bed as he discarded the towel and got under the covers. “Yum, second-hand cabbage soup and poo pie!”

  Hana shrieked and giggled, fighting her husband off but knowing Logan always got what he wanted. Tama turned the television up in embarrassment and fanned himself with one of Logan’s text books, blaming it on the heat of the day.

  Logan’s lips over Hana’s were persuasive and she allowed him to tease and cajole her, ignoring the voice in her head which warned it may be the last time. He showed surprise when she cried, hiding her face in his downy chest. “It’s nothing.” She waved away his concern. “I’m feeling emotional, it’s probably hormones.”

  “Sweetheart,” he crooned, covering her body with his and enveloping her in his love.

  “So what were you doing?” Hana asked eventually, pulling herself together and displaying a staunch English backbone. Logan pulled her into his side and stroked the curl lying across his chest.

  “I think I’ve discovered where the money’s going,” he said, sounding smug. “And I believe it’s the reason the new manager won’t be coming.”

  “Not coming, like, never ever?” Hana’s face fell, as the prospect of escaping the staff accommodation in this lifetime looked unlikely. Logan’s hair tickled her neck and shoulder as he smoothed away the lines of disappointment in her face.

  “It’s clever,” Logan said, “and it’s largely about cabbage.” Hana groaned at the memory of her stroppiness the night before as Logan got into his stride and ran a hand absentmindedly across the soft skin of her stomach. “See, I got a bit desperate - it all looked legit. So I started examining everything when I did those night duties. I spent one night counting the cleaning products in the storeroom and then the sheets and tea towels.”

  Hana sniggered. “I bet you couldn’t resist indulging your compulsiveness and putting it back in some kind of logical order. Is it alphabetical or by shape or colour?” She giggled as he jabbed her in the ribs.

  “I put it back as I found it,” he said with an edge of annoyance. “The point was not to draw attention to myself.”

  Hana smiled into his chest and imagined him battling with himself and having to put it back messy. />
  “Thing is,” Logan continued, “we got an invoice last week for sixty cabbages. It’s a company which does repeat orders once, sometimes twice a week, so when I looked in the kitchen there should have been sixty cabbages because that’s what they always send. But I couldn’t find cabbages anywhere. That’s at just over a dollar a cabbage. So then I got curious and started auditing all the invoices for food after the kitchen staff left at night. Some items repeatedly appear on the invoices, but never arrive. Cabbages are one item, but there’s also leeks and other random veggies.”

  “Would the boys actually eat that stuff?”

  “No,” replied Logan, “and that’s the point. Someone puts it on the menu to make it look as though it arrived, but never did. If it sounds horrid, nobody ever asks for it and it’s a scam which remains covered indefinitely.”

  “But I asked for it,” Hana said, shuddering at the thought of what she’d have done if she had to eat it.

  “Exactly!” said Logan victorious, “You couldn’t have it - because it never existed. I just needed to prove it.”

  “No, they said it’d all gone.”

  “How many people did you see eating cabbage soup?” Logan asked, “And don’t you think it’s weird they ran out of the two most-disgusting things on the menu? Look, the food can’t be rubbish or the boarders’ parents would complain, so, you can make good food but put a crappy menu option in full view that nobody ever wants.” He slapped the bed with his free hand. “Perfect. It’s so clever you’d have to know what was going on, in order to see it.”

  “So why’s the new manager not coming?” Hana sighed with regret.

  “Because I believe this is a Hamilton-wide thing,” Logan replied. “I’ve made enquiries around the other boarding houses in town and they’re all failing in the same way. I think the new manager was warned off and he’s declined the role after being threatened. Angus is meeting this morning with the principals of other schools and he’ll bring back copies of their food invoices for me to look at. But I think I’ve found the problem. Cabbages.”