by Bowes, K T
Hana shook her head, fearfully. “No, not invincible, love. Invincible Tama is a scary prospect and I don’t want to rescue you from any more stupid situations.”
He laughed and waved the roll of plastic wrap at her, accidentally poking her in the face. She slapped him on the arm and then rolled him into his unusual shroud. Hana couldn’t find any masking tape at the last minute so used a length of duct tape, which she ripped into small pieces instead. “Good job it’s not summer,” she said, trying to look on the bright side, “you’d bake in there.”
They tore themselves away and returned to Hamilton, arriving back on site an hour after the final bell sounded. Logan was at the unit but not in a better mood. He sat at the small table with a sheaf of reports in front of him and another heap on the floor. He kept muttering and scribbling through them with a red pen.
“I thought you did yours ages ago,” Hana said, picking up one he’d completely defaced with corrections.
“I did!” he snapped. “But as head of department I have to check everyone under me. Angus has made me do the accounting and French departments as their heads seem incapable of writing English.” He balled up a piece of A5 paper and threw it across the room, putting his head in his hands. “Phoenix could do better than these idiots! I don’t know how some of them teach when they can’t even write in full sentences.” He got up and retrieved the wadded up paper, unscrewing it and trying to flatten it on the table under a bunch of others.
Hana and Tama retreated to the safety of the bedroom with the baby, lying on the bed and chatting. Logan appeared an hour later, his hair sticking up on end and dark circles forming under his eyes. He laid across the bottom of the bed, shoving Tama’s feet out of his face.
Hana abandoned them after feeding Phoenix and went to the kitchen to rustle up dinner. She made a decently filling pasta dish and called them all to eat, shrugging at Logan’s papers strewn across the table. Two men and a baby slept soundly on the bed, lying like an abandoned game of Jenga.
Hana dished herself up pasta and sat at the table. Taking the red pen, she dug into her memory banks for her English degree and set to work with the red pen on the report drafts. By the time Logan and Tama stumbled to the lounge with Phoenix, Hana had completed the corrections and stacked them alphabetically by student surname and pinned together by department. She felt uncannily pleased with herself.
Phoenix ate the thick soup Hana warmed up from her cooking exertions, sitting in her high chair and not spilling a drop. The men slumped on the sofa eating out of bowls and not communicating. Both brooded and Hana felt the loaded testosterone whipping around the room. They polished off the huge dish of pasta and Logan loaded the dirties into the dishwasher. Hana cleaned her daughter up and breast fed her, mindful of the little teeth in her bottom gums. Phoenix was smiley and happy, wanting to do more noise making than drinking and Hana gave up. “You’re so gorgeous,” she whispered to her daughter, receiving a gummy smile.
When her cell phone bleeped at her from the table, Hana found a text from Jas. ‘Thanks Hanny and Poppa Logan for my new Action Man and outfit. I’m sending a photo.’ Clearly Amy was doing the texting. Another bleep heralded the photograph. A beaming Jas stood in Amy’s kitchen sporting a full size army uniform and waving a matching Action Man doll. Hana spotted the old doll’s feet hanging off the kitchen table in the background.
“Jas just sent a weird text,” she said, sounding confused. “I didn’t send him a gift.”
“He did.” Tama pointed his spoon at Logan and his uncle sighed.
“Thanks, big mouth.”
“Oh, sorry. Was it a secret?” Tama smirked, not looking sorry.
“Aw, did you really send Jas a present?” Hana asked, pushing the memory of her angry husband from her mind and replacing it with the kind, bashful man at the kitchen sink.
“I ordered it online,” Logan muttered.
Hana peered at the picture. Jas looked much better, his little blue cast sticking out of the camouflage jacket sleeve rigidly. She sent back a text to her grandson, telling him it was all Poppa’s work and not hers. He sent back a kiss which Hana tried to show Logan, but he was still grumpy and she gave up.
“I did something for you today,” Hana began, reaching for the bag containing the picture frames. Logan looked interested but the loud hammering on the front door heralded the arrival of her son in full uniform and Odering in civvies.
Logan let them in and Hana saw his patience hanging by a thread at the unexpected guests. Bodie was stiff and formal and Odering just plain aggravating. Tama shot off the sofa and went to Hana’s room to watch the portable TV balanced on the cupboard. “You’re working late,” Hana said politely to the cops, laying Phoenix under the baby gym and thinking yet again she should return it to Amanda.
“Is it witching hour already?” Logan commented sarcastically. The men hung around, taking up valuable space until Hana invited them to sit. Logan crashed around in the kitchen, washing up the pasta dish and pointedly ignoring the police officers. The presence of the men seemed to fill the tiny space. It was like an uncomfortable game of Sardines. Hana felt claustrophobic.
“We’re looking for a key, Mr Du Rose,” Odering began. “It’ll open a shed over by the tennis courts which we understand Mr Collins frequented.”
Logan leaned on the breakfast bar, drying his hands on a towel. “Why would I know where the key is?” he snapped. “It’s a school matter, not a St Bart’s issue. Take it up with Angus.”
“You were heard arguing with the deceased on the Thursday before his death. You wanted him to open the shed. What was that about?”
“Bloody hell!” Logan postured, his temper fraying by the second. “A student made a complaint about Collins to my deputy manager. He said Collins hid something of his in the shed and wouldn’t give it back. I wanted to see if he had it.”
“And did he?” Odering’s voice was like syrup. Bodie’s face was impassive as Hana watched.
“No idea,” shrugged Logan. “He told me to ‘bugger off,’ said he wasn’t opening the shed and I could do something to myself which I don’t think is physically possible, even if I was tempted. I left it and intended to speak to Angus the following Monday. I saw Collins on Friday and we spoke about something else and then the next time I saw him, he was doing a convincing impression of a mole.”
“Did you speak to Principal Blair?” Odering asked and Logan shook his head.
“Angus wasn’t at school that week because he was at a conference in Dunedin. The next time I saw him was at a social soccer match and no, it didn’t seem that important.”
“So, it went out of your head, did it? Until when?” Odering’s eyes widened like a wolf scenting blood.
“What?” Logan didn’t understand the question.
“What reminded you about the student’s property, Mr Du Rose? When did you think of it again?”
Logan paused, clearly trying to think on his feet. Hana sighed and closed her eyes, realising she’d put him in a difficult situation without meaning to. She decided to speak for herself and Logan widened his eyes the minute she opened her mouth, warning her with his expression to shut up. She ignored him, choosing truth as her only option, not understanding how very much she would be made to regret it.
“He was reminded about it when I showed him the object last night,” Hana said from her corner. All eyes turned to her. Logan threw the towel onto the counter and folded his arms, leaning back against the sink. He looked angry and Hana wouldn’t get eye contact with him. “I didn’t know Logan was aware of it being missing because we didn’t have a conversation about it before last night. The student came to me directly. I went to bed shortly after getting in and Logan returned it to James this morning.”
“Are we talking about the model aeroplane? Belonging to...” Odering consulted his pocket book with exaggerated movements, even though he knew the boy’s name from memory. “James Wong.” He fixed an acid stare on Hana and so did Bodie. The only thing missi
ng was the interrogation lighting and thumb screws and Hana would feel the scene was complete.
“That’s right,” she answered, injecting deadly calm into her voice. “James came to me upset about it. It was a gift from home. His mother works hard to keep him at the school and it was a generous present.”
“We know all that,” Odering said rudely, “where was it found?”
“In the shed,” Hana said, hearing Logan’s sharp intake of breath.
“By you?” the detective snapped.
Hana nodded and cringed at the look of anger on Odering’s face. “And how did you get into the shed, when nobody else has been able to?” He spoke to her as though she was thick and it grated on Hana’s nerves.
“Oh, I’m sure if you’d really wanted to, you could have crow-barred the door or something,” she replied sweetly.
Odering stood up and strode over to Hana. He dwarfed her and she felt uncomfortable. She heard Logan’s socks pad across the laminate floor and knew his instinct for protecting her might lead to him finally smacking the detective. She sensed he’d wanted to for a long time and knew she needed to stop him getting into trouble for her. Hana pushed herself to a standing position, putting her hand on top of the pile of papers to stop them shifting in the movement of bodies. Odering stood back and Logan visibly relaxed. Bodie stayed on the sofa like an obedient little dog. “How did you get into the shed?” the detective asked her again through gritted teeth.
“The tennis man let me in,” she replied honestly. She had nothing to be worried about as long as she told the truth. Robert always promised her that. ‘Tell the truth, hen. There’s no fear in the truth.’
“The what?” It was incredible. All three men said the same words at exactly the same moment. Hana giggled.
“The tennis man. He comes every night to play on the courts. He has a key to the shed because he turns the floodlights on and off from inside, instead of going back to the main building.”
Odering whipped round and pointed an accusing finger at Bodie. “Who is this guy? If he comes every night why don’t I know about him?”
Bodie was on his feet looking silly. “Nobody’s ever mentioned him before!” he exclaimed, defending the investigation which had fallen on his shoulders. Hana looked at her son strangely.
“I thought you were a traffic cop,” she said and Bodie glared at her.
“When does he come?” Odering snapped at Hana. “The tennis player; when does he come?”
“Just evenings. I wander out there and he’s usually there. He said he comes most evenings. Angus knows about him because we have to turn the lights off around nine to avoid complaints from residents.”
“What residents?” Logan asked.
“The ones round the back of...” Hana’s face dropped. The courts were surrounded by gully, classrooms and sports pitches. She felt unnerved, wringing her hands and feeling the steady pulse beat increase in her chest.
“And why were you meeting this man at night?” Odering beaked at her, his nose pointy in his angry face. He didn’t like being caught on the back foot and blamed Hana.
“I wasn’t meeting him!” Hana sounded aghast, anger flaring in her eyes as she put her hands on her hips. “He was already there playing. I practiced against him, let him spar against me for variation. It’s boring against a delivery machine all the time.”
Odering swore and Hana grew frightened. Phoenix had stopped playing and lay on the rug, watching the tall men like a fragile ladybird in a dark forest.
“Why are you inferring things?” Hana cried, looking pointedly at Bodie, despite the fact he hadn’t spoken. “I know you’d love it if Logan divorced me. Well, he probably will now. He’s already sick of me! Now you’re making it sound like I’m doing something wrong!”
Before anyone could react, Hana rushed across to her daughter, scooping her up and taking her to the bedroom while the men faced each other. She put the baby on the bed with Tama and then backed towards the door.
“S’up?” he asked without taking his eyes off the TV. She shook her head. Nothing. Everything.
Grabbing her trainers from the wardrobe, Hana slipped them onto her feet. She felt shaken and upset. The whole day had been blighted and ruined from the off. She was a one-woman-disaster-area. Logan would believe she was having an affair; her best friend had spent nine years studying her deceitfully for signs she knew about Vik’s other woman and so had her pastor. Her pastor! Her son detested her and now she’d inadvertently walked into a whole heap of trouble without seeing it coming. No wonder Logan had wanted her to keep quiet.
Hana ran to the tennis courts, desperate to take her anger out on a round yellow ball, to hit it as though it was one of the men who seemed to think it was ok to dictate to and bully her into submission. Rounding the last corner, disappointment coursed through her veins like acid as she saw the darkness surrounding the courts. They looked cold and dead and Hana’s heart sank like a stone. She pressed herself against the fence, feeling sharp wire cutting into her fingers as she gripped it and rested her forehead against the unforgiving diamond shapes it made. She heard a noise, but it sounded like it belonged to someone else, a dreadful gasping cry like a trapped animal. The sound returned to her, echoing off the concrete and bouncing back amidst the hiss of the trees along the gully side of the courts. Hana turned and sank to the ground, her fleece ripping on the broken, spiteful ends of metal and her fingers cutting and tearing the same way as she forgot to let go.
Hana cried fit to bust, gulping in great breaths between the sobs and causing her lungs to panic and constrict. She wondered inwardly why she was so affected by the men rounding on her and knew it was guilt for having a secret rendezvous with a stranger. She liked the tennis player and enjoyed his company, but craved the physical challenge of meeting his powerful serves and returning them with something like her old fire. All the while Hana held the racquet in her hand, she was over a decade younger, full of that zest for life which came with confidence and success. She was good at something, outside of being a wife and mother. It was a private pleasure, something she could indulge herself in, but the men had been horrified, twisting and turning it, putting a slant on it which it didn’t deserve. They had ruined it and to make matters worse, the sanctuary of the tennis player wasn’t even there.
Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She felt unbelievably sad, grief stricken but not understanding why such an emotion would rear its head again. I have so much to be grateful for! She chided herself roughly, so that guilt added itself to the mix and made her even more miserable. The only thing missing she decided, was a mirror so she could watch herself cry and prolong the draining but cleansing feeling for longer. She sniffed and snotted on her sleeve again, reasoning it didn’t matter. She felt and heard the rip down the back as she slid dramatically down the fence. Hana cried again, sad because it was one of her favourite fleeces.
The footsteps coming through the darkness were soft, discernible only by the grit under the sole of his boots. Logan folded himself in half and sat on the concrete next to Hana, leaning back against the fence and sighing. Hana wiped her sleeve across her face, putting more wet on than she took off. She changed sleeves and made a dreadful snorting noise trying to clean up her face. She felt Logan move next to her and suspected he was laughing.
“Go away!” Hana struggled to stand up, feeling stupid, but her husband seized her right wrist and pulled her back down, managing to get his arm around her. She fought against him pathetically, knowing it was futile but wanting to make a point. He kept a firm grip on her and kissed her once on the side of the head. Hana sighed, hating his power to make her feel better. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” she sniffed when the silence had eaten away at her nerves, “I was just playing tennis.”
Logan said nothing and Hana resisted the urge to babble aimlessly, knowing it was at those moments she seemed to get herself into the most trouble. When he removed his arm and shifted his weight on the concrete, she felt cut lo
ose and it wasn’t a good sensation. Logan crossed his legs under him and leaned forward, sitting like a primary school child in assembly, incongruous with his six foot four inch height. “I never knew you were so good at tennis,” he said quietly. “Bodie said you and his dad used to scoop up a lot of the local awards. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Hana shrugged petulantly. “What’s the point? It was another Hana in a whole other life.”
Logan’s heels dragged against the grit as he moved his feet. “We could have played. I’m not too bad, probably not as good as...Vik, but not completely uncoordinated.”
He was reaching out to her, offering an olive branch but Hana didn’t feel ready to take it yet. She exhaled and it came out more spitefully than she intended. “Don’t mention his name, Logan. Remember how angry it makes you.”
Logan sighed. “Yep, I deserved that. I’m sorry about before. What were you trying to tell me about Anka’s husband?”
“Get lost, Logan.” Hana heard him snuff and knew he was smiling. “I mean it!” she snapped. “Don’t mention Vik when you don’t want to hear it. He was a huge part of my life and I’ve spent all day trying to undo it. For you, Logan. For you! I wanted to show you the photos I made, but you weren’t interested. So now I’m not interested in you. Just go away.”
“Are you happy, Hana?” His question sounded sad.
“Yes!” she snapped, but it came out whiney and made her ashamed of herself.
“I realise it’s not what you bargained for, staying in a shoebox and playing ‘mummy’ again, but if you wanted to go back to work, there’s lots of options we can look at.” Logan was trying hard to regain ground with his fuming wife.
“I don’t know what I want,” Hana sighed. “How can you help me if I can’t help myself?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Logan said, turning towards her, “I could go part time if you want, so you can go back to work. Maihi would probably love the income for looking after Phoenix if there’s any overlap. I’d give up working at the boarding house and we could live back up at Culver’s Cottage. What do you think?”