by Bowes, K T
That question was promptly addressed as Hana entered the church through a side door. There was a baptism and the little space was packed almost to the rafters. Children in their Sunday best sat on parents’ knees. Unused to having to sit and listen, they squirmed and writhed and were ‘shushed’ and switched from mother to father and back again. Hana counted about fifteen children she didn’t know and rushed back to the schoolroom to raid the cupboards for extra crayons and biscuits. The worship was thoughtful and the songs meaningful but Hana found it hard to concentrate. Successive memories of Sunday mornings covered in biscuit crumbs and bogies, listening to some dedicated individual describing Jesus and events in his life, ran unbidden through her brain. Bodie had been independent and never bothered if Hana was there or not, but Isobel was unremittingly needy and required her mother’s presence at all times. For a time, Hana had been the Sunday school teacher, but an accident with some matches and a rubbish bin full of ‘confessed sin,’ had encouraged her to question the insurance liability surrounding her presence in this important ministry.
Yet here she was again. The Sunday school crowd were released into her dubious care with a prayer from the pastor. Anka stared anxiously at Hana as she waited in the doorway for the little brigade of around thirty children of varying ages. Leaning across to Charlotte and Gareth, Anka whispered something and judging by their incredulous faces, it was an order to go and help. Hana gratefully observed some failed, whispered resistance and then the teenagers hauled themselves to their feet and slouched over.
The thirty children, one adult and two semi-adults squashed precariously into the small schoolroom. Hana had decided to do the story of David and Goliath as a play-act and picked out two willing actors. “Er...you with the smart blue shirt, you can be Goliath and...er...yes you with the pretty glasses can be David.”
They mimed what she read and the result was both pleasing and slightly hilarious. A visitor named Duncan played Goliath and thoroughly enjoyed pushing the little David around. David, in the interests of sex equality was played by a girl called Marcia, who threw herself into the part and proved an unfortunately accurate shot with the paper stones and elastic band slingshot.
“Ouch! My head!” Duncan Goliath wailed, smacked square in the forehead by a balled up paper lump. The squeals of delight from the children rose to a crescendo and threatened to disturb the service going on next door.
Hana’s pleas of, “Let’s be a bit quieter,” fell on selectively deaf ears.
Gareth sat mute in the centre of the carpet listening to his MP3 player, oblivious until the biscuits were handed out. Charlotte sat next to him texting. Which is possibly the reason why the colouring activity was destined to go so horribly wrong.
The visiting children were largely well behaved but the usual merry band of regulars were intent on showing off and impressing their new audience. One little family of four boys, ranging from five to eleven years, came from a fine upstanding home of godly parents. Yet they were particularly challenging and it was something of an eye opener. Who would have suspected that such rampant potty mouth existed in a home like theirs. Not content with roughhousing each other on the carpet, they were vocal and entertaining for the benefit of the visiting girls. The youngest was determined to express every word in his vocabulary relating to the toilet or activities therein, encouraged by the snorted giggles of his brothers. Besotted by the glamorous presence of Marcia, he was out to impress in ways that only a seven year old would find acceptable. “Poo, bum, willy...”
“I don’t think so!” Hana pulled his unwilling body around to the other side of the table and stood him next to a quiet little boy with dark rimmed glasses, hoping his good behaviour might rub off on the tearaway.
Hana withheld the biscuits until before the colouring in and then let the group loose with the crayons. Gareth stayed on the floor swaying quietly to his music and Charlotte sat on the only armchair, texting into the ether. The children, almost equally divided into two groups busily coloured, amidst a gentle hum of chatter. “No, I want to have pink spots on his shirt...”
It went well for the most part with only a few disagreements when one child wanted a crayon that another child had, but largely those were sorted out by the older children. Hana went to the sink in the corner to wash up the plastic juice cups while they were busy. She examined the crack in one of the cups and contemplated the economy of trying to reuse disposable plastic cups, when a muffled cry from Charlotte caused her to whip round and survey the room.
“Oh...my...God!”
“Charlotte!” Hana was shocked at the blasphemy and dried her hands quickly on a towel. Charlotte and Gareth stood over the table, examining something on one of the cut-outs. Charlotte’s hand covered her mouth and Gareth appeared rooted to the spot with a look of incredulity on his suddenly alert face. The children were utterly silent. Hana crossed the space between the sink and table quickly, aware that thirty two faces were riveted to her progress.
David was fully coloured in, a wild rainbow man of random blocks of colour, names of children and what looked like a tattoo of a unicorn instead of a nose. Goliath was similar. He resembled a bigger version with armour and an impressive soldier’s helmet. Sitting large and proud between the bottom of his pink and purple breastplate and the beginning of his thighs, was an enormous set of...
“Bloody hell,” said Gareth “that’s impressive!”
Charlotte turned accusingly on the little group, now looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Who put the willy on Goliath?”
Mutterings and pointings began, but the group unanimously settled on the middle child of the family of four boys. To Hana’s utter horror, instead of being ashamed, the child seemed pleased as he voluntarily announced, “It’s my dad.”
At that moment, the pastor burst into the silent room with a triumphant smile. “The whole church is ready to look at what the Sunday school have been doing. You’ve got about five minutes. We’re really excited.” He completely failed to notice the tragedy on the table or the ashen face of the adult who mouthed, ‘I hate you.’ He blasted back out to the sound of the organ music cranking through the last verse of the hymn.
Exactly five minutes later, the group filed back into the church, the children satisfied with their entertainment and Hana severely traumatised by the whole experience. Having press ganged one of the older boys to explain the lesson, Hana tried to retreat into the shadows as the giant Goliath and rainbow David were held up for the gathered congregation to appreciate. Goliath’s nether regions now sported a large, felt tipped bow of fluorescent green, with vivid black spots. As the pastor generously declared that the work was going to be on display in the coffee room, poor Hana slid out of the side door and made a run for her car. She just caught the shrill voice of the youngest member of the family from Hell shouting loudly to the audience, “They maked Daddy’s willy into a present!”
Chapter 15
Monday morning dawned pleasantly warm as the fading summer blessed the city, using up the last rays of sun for another two seasons. Dashing into work at eight thirty, Hana avoided the administration corridor, hoping Anka would have stopped laughing about Goliath’s wedding tackle by morning tea time.
Running up the back stairs with her head down, she ran smack into the Year 10 dean, who limped painfully down them. Hana apologised and retrieved his crutches which had flown in opposite directions, while he hobbled delicately on the split-level landing, keeping his broken leg off the floor. He waved away her ministrations, keener to tell her about the latest instalment from the staff room. Some of the guys were worse than the women. “Jeffs is getting married,” he announced triumphantly, “to an internet bride!”
Hana gaped at him and wondered if she had heard wrongly. “What? Our Gwynne?”
Telea looked instantly contrite and tried to backtrack, only making it worse. “Oh sorry, I guess we all thought he had a thing for you, but now he’s gone and got this other girl. I didn’t mean to shock you. Sorry.”
Seeing the disbelief in his face and the smirk that started on his lips, Hana pushed past him in the small space, hearing his exclaimed swear word and the clang of his crutch as it hit the fire bucket at the bottom of the stairwell. Uncharacteristically, Hana didn’t return to retrieve it but escaped via a back corridor into the blessedly deserted post room.
Sighing deeply, Hana grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and lamented the illogical mind which gave the smallest people in the school the highest pigeon holes. She pulled it over to the rack and climbed up onto it in her high heels. There were a few envelopes and some army newspapers for the brochure racks, but nothing life threatening or urgent.
Logan Du Rose came into the room and halted, temporarily enjoying the sight of Hana’s shapely backside and trim, elegant legs as she reached into the highest pigeon hole. He leaned against the door frame with his arms folded and a look of appreciation gracing his handsome features. She clambered back down and returned the chair, lingering at the window facing the rugby field to watch a couple of boys wrestling. Making sure it was harmless high spirits and not the beginnings of a full blown fight, Hana felt a hand rest on her shoulder and turned.
Logan’s bright smile offered momentary relief from the annoyance she felt burning inside at Telea’s inference. “How was Sunday School?” Logan asked.
Hana scowled, “Fantastic! The only thing wrong with it, was the unfortunate presence of the children!”
Logan put his head back and laughed, a low, husky sound that tickled the pit of Hana’s stomach and made her feel hot and bothered. “I heard,” he smiled. “Anka told me.” He left his hand on her shoulder, the weight of it tantalising. Logan withdrew it lazily, but not before five or six other members of staff had come into the post room and begun rifling through their pigeon holes. With dismay, Hana saw the sidelong glances of Ethel Bowman as she bent her large body almost in half to reach her messy, crammed-full space near the floor and stash her lavish lunch there. Hana read glee in the florid face and her heart sank.
As Gwynne entered the room, absentmindedly sifting his paperwork and extracting a few sheets, Hana smiled broadly at him and he winked back at her. “Congratulations are in order, I hear,” she said graciously to him and he beamed. He looked elated and Hana felt a flush of pleasure for him. If he could start again, maybe she could too.
“See you later.” Hana lowered her voice and smiled back at Logan. She squeezed his arm with deliberate affection as she left the room, feeling the muscle and sinews flex under her fingers. He shot her a sultry look from under his lashes.
Outside the room, Hana’s shoulders slumped as she lost confidence immediately, chastising herself. Do you have a death wish? Ethel Bowman had definitely seen that. From the corridor she caught the sound of the post room window grinding open and an ear splitting whistle followed. Logan’s voice yelled out loudly for some of the white-shirted prefects to break up the tussle that had evidently evolved into a scrap. Hana smiled to herself, feeling irrationally pleased that Logan could whistle through his fingers.
The staff talk for the rest of the day was all about Gwynne and his shock announcement at staff briefing that morning. He had indeed gotten himself a bride and was ecstatic about it. According to Rory, there was an awkward hushed silence and then congratulations were hastily offered. While the female staff members had kissed him lightly on the cheek, Gwynne appeared to blossom under the attention and the men had slapped him on the back and made raucous jokes at his expense. “Good on him,” Rory finished, quickly losing interest.
Sheila was full of gossip and innuendo but as the morning wore on, became more and more downcast as she remembered Gwynne’s late wife Tessa. Sheila lamented with a big sigh, not for the first time, “Whatever would Tess think?”
“Shut the hell up, woman!” Rory snapped finally and North beat a hasty exit from the room before the trouble started up again. There had been an uneasy truce between them for a while, but it was a fragile peace that had started to show veritable cracks. As Pete was the usual recipient of any violence and frustration between them, his escape was a sensible move but Hana was too slow and decided not to run, as a mass evacuation might look strange. She concluded in the circumstances, she would let Pete have this one.
It turned out to be a bad mistake. Sheila’s feathers momentarily ruffled, she lashed out at her instead, “We all thought Gwynne liked you. I suppose I wouldn’t go for an old duffer like him with younger fish to fry. I’d be careful if I were you, the toy boy is on the rebound.”
Hana whipped round from her photocopying angrily but was beaten to a reply by Rory throwing down his pen and leaping to his feet. “Is nobody safe from your vicious mind, you sanctimonious old hag?” He tripped over his chair as he strode towards Sheila, “I am so sick of you! How the hell would you know what ‘poor Tess’ would have thought? You didn’t even like her. Just because your life sucks and your husband is a boring old fart, you have to have a go at Hana…Far out! Who’s next…?”
Deciding that perhaps Rory could mete out justice for the both of them, Hana fled, leaving Sheila open mouthed and indignant, but more than ready to start giving it back. Instead of heading back to the staff room, Hana closed the student centre door and went down the back steps to the covered entryway and out onto the field. Once out there, she wandered aimlessly in the sunshine, knowing she would probably have to work through morning tea to catch up on her work. The last time Rory and Sheila had a big bust up, Hana and Pete went for coffee at a local café as the battle had raged on until Dobbs got wind of it and put an abrupt halt to both their ardours. Hana worked late that day to catch up on all the invoices she had been unable to get near for the better part of an afternoon. She wondered as she sat comfortably in the sunshine on one of the benches facing the rugby pitch if this time, she could actually be bothered.
The sound of silence was pleasant and comforting as Hana warmed herself. She knew if Dobbs or the admin director caught her, she would be in for a telling off but the longer she sat there, the harder it got to summon the energy to move. The bell sounded for lesson change and boys moved around the outside of the buildings, loud and bawdy, jostling and pushing each other. Some ran and some rambled slowly. A few of the boys who knew her nodded and gave the raised eyebrow in greeting and she smiled back. In a matter of minutes, the grounds became silent again as the five-minute allocation for lesson change came quickly to an end. Sheila’s words cut into Hana’s psyche. Surely Gwynne was allowed to start again? Perhaps that meant Hana couldn’t either.
“Hey,” came Logan’s voice as he slumped down next to her on the bench. He was close to her in the small space and she caught his heady fragrance, making her pulse quicken. “What ya doing out here?” Before Hana could respond he turned anxiously towards her, worry etched in a furrow between his eyebrows. “What’s the process when a member of staff loses an entire Year 10 class?”
Hana pulled a face and shrugged, “Throw a party?” I’m not very good at guessing joke endings.”
Logan looked shifty. “Who says I’m joking?”
Hana sat forward and looked straight into his face, picking up on his urgency. “Where have you looked? Start at the beginning.”
Logan had been taking a PE class for Rory during first period, so he could get some reports done for the Year 13s. Fat chance, Hana thought, knowing he had just argued for the best part of that. Logan decided under duress to let them go for a cross country run, which was supposed to encompass the four main fields encircling the school. They had set off full of purpose and not been seen since. Distracted by a boy without his kit, Logan let them go off without him, despite being
suitably attired and up for a good race. For the last fifty minutes he had been left with the whingeing, improperly clad student, hoping the naughty boys would eventually just turn up. They hadn’t.
The solution dawned on Hana with little effort. She she had been at the school some considerable time and her son had been at the forefront of any decent pranks in his years there. “Come on. I know where they’ll be.” Leading the way, she set off briskly toward the back of the site and instead of turning off at the swimming baths, she headed down towards the area marked, ‘Out of Bounds to Students’ by a huge but elderly sign clinging to its post. Logan trotted behind blindly, panic building on his face. As they dropped below the level of the school and into the vegetation at the start of the gully it grew more shaded, native trees masking the warmth of the sun.
The gully project was an ongoing labour of love, restoring the native ferns and trees which had been feeding the minds of horticulture students over the last fifteen years. It was reclaimed from a sad and derelict area of swamp, where two local gullies met and reduced the soil to a bog, shamefully where the school rubbish was tipped between the 1920s and 1950s.
Now it was a place of beauty which reflected the patterns and wildlife of genuine native bush. Down amidst the speckled light, filtering gently through the delicate umbrella of ferns, the air was still. The soil, as yet untouched by the rains still to come, was dusty and as they made their way down the track, Hana lost her footing and slipped. Logan, only a few steps behind, caught her by the elbow and stood still until she righted herself. Even when she had recovered her footing and stood squarely facing him, he continued to hold onto her arm, looking into her eyes with a fearful intensity. The now familiar electricity arced through both of them. Hana felt as though Logan searched her soul for something he thought should be there and would recognise it when he saw it. Neither of them moved, a spell cast over them, enveloping them in a timeless peace. They stood sizing each other up, contemplating how this was going to go, where it was going to go; because the attraction was mutual so it had to go somewhere.