by Bowes, K T
“They don’t believe me!” Hana’s voice contained an unattractive whine and she closed her eyes, frustrated that she couldn’t just wish herself somewhere else. Rarotonga, Fiji, England...
Surrounded by all the male attention, Paul felt intimidated and slunk back to his office before Andrea could second him as chief-child-bather. Hana, feeling like a complete fraud, started walking to the door. “Hey, thanks everyone. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”
At her statement, everyone in the room stopped and stared, silently processing some protest as to the wisdom of that choice.
“Stay here,” Andrea offered.
“No, stay viz us,” Boris insisted. “Ich habe ein guest room” which he corrected quickly to ‘Henrietta’s room’ at a narky glance from North. But all Hana wanted to do was go home, put her car away, feed the cat, take some pills for her banging headache and think about what on earth was going wrong in her life.
“Hey, it’s all gonna be ok,” Logan soothed, underneath the din of everyone else’s opinion. He had been sitting next to Hana on the sofa, remaining quiet and not joining in the discussion about her welfare. His gentle, stroking touch on her wrist was reassuring and galvanised her spirit, but she had to work hard not to throw her arms around his neck, bury her face in his safe chest and wail like Andrea’s youngest child.
Refusing to be deterred, Hana apologised to Andrea for completely disrupting her life on a school night and went outside, flanked by the three prospective bodyguards who made no effort to go home themselves. Logan offered to put the truck in the garage for her, although he seemed to take an awfully long time to do it. When Hana emerged from her bedroom having washed her face and changed her clothes, she discovered Boris had raiding the fridge and North clanging around with the electric frying pan.
Later, they sat around the dining table as dusk thickened and turned into night, eating French toast. “Can I have yours?” Pete asked, nudging Hana with his elbow. She nodded and pushed her plate towards him, her appetite gone. Between them, the men polished off the best part of two loaves of bread and twelve eggs. Logan gave Hana encouraging smiles when the others weren’t looking and kept his knee resting against hers under the table.
As the silence grew, Hana realised how unsociable she was being. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “There’s so much going round in my head, I can’t think straight.”
It was only when Boris suggested writing down everything and the dates of the incidents, Hana started to achieve some clarity. First they discussed the night of the strange mugging. “Ah, so that’s what the cut lip and the marks on your neck were about,” Logan sighed.
Like typical teachers they wrote down every detail in report form and analysed it. “So,” Boris summarised, “Ze first attackers said nussing significant to Hana as zey tried to take her handbag, but Hana recalls zat zey vere hanging around ze truck. She assumed zat it vas to jump out at her, but vat if zey had been interested in somesing inside ze truck instead?”
“Logan, can’t you find something out? You know, with your contacts...” Pete began, wiggling his eyebrows, but the look which Logan shot him caused the sentence to die on his thin lips. Hana looked at the tall, good-looking man sideways and realised how little she knew about him.
Boris carried on, but Pete interrupted him so often he gave up. “The second incident involving the brick through the windscreen came soon after the attempted mugging, but it was in broad daylight. There’s no way they could have got into the vehicle in such a visible area. There were sixty or more people right there next to it.” Pete seemed uncharacteristically animated.
I’m glad my life is so entertaining, Hana thought bitterly as the men continued to debate her circumstances.
“There are more discreet ways of getting into a vehicle like that,” Logan contributed, causing Hana to raise her eyebrows. “This afternoon’s fracas is even more peculiar, again in broad daylight, but the car definitely seems to be the object of their attention. What was it that one of the guys said to you, Hana?” Logan asked, fixing his grey eyes on her face expectantly.
“The blonde man said something similar to the note on the brick. Something like, “Where is it?” But then I ran, so they probably feel sure I’ve got whatever it is now.” Hana sighed, realising her escape had compounded the illusion of guilt.
“Whatever was that Asian guy doing underneath?” Pete commented, sounding frustrated.
“I had a thorough look downstairs when I put the Serena away,” ventured Logan, “but I couldn’t see anything apart from the marks where you keep that little magnet thing. It’s fallen off by the way.”
Hana’s face showed confusion. “What magnet thing?”
“You know, the metal box with the spare key in it. I used to have one for…well, she used to always lock herself out of the car so I had one stuck under the chassis so she could get back in. It left all these awful scratchy marks on the paintwork where she kept dragging it off and putting it back on. It’s got a magnet inside so it sticks to the car.”
“I definitely don’t have one of those!” responded Hana, “Not with a cop for a son. He’d insist I put a sign in the window saying, ‘Key under car – please help yourself!’”
“Maybe it was the previous owner?” asked North but Logan shrugged.
“Whatever. The marks from it are fresh and clean. No dirt, no rust. So unless you recently steam cleaned the underside of your car, you’ve been carrying around a magnetised box of some description.”
“So where is it then?” asked Hana, standing up and beginning to clear the table, hoping to dismiss the subject entirely. Tiredness crept over her head like a blanket. She needed her guests to leave so she could contemplate alone and try Bodie again on his mobile.
The men washed up and loaded the dishwasher, displaying a reluctance to leave her despite her protestations that Andrea and Paul were only next door and she was going to try Bodie again soon. They dragged their feet and made excuses, but finally appeared to be leaving. Boris went out to start his car which was still on next door’s driveway and Peter North gave her an awkward but sincere hug. He ruined it by falling down the front steps, tripping over his untied shoelaces near the top and cursing as he landed awkwardly on his feet. He lobbed the large piece of hedging that had saved him from a worse fall, neatly over the wall and onto the lawn smiling back guiltily.
Logan hung back after he put his tan cowboy boots on. He sat on the bottom step like a child to zip them up and Hana felt an unexpected moment of endearment towards him. As he stood at the front door with his hand laid gently on her shoulder, he made her promise one final time, “Please be careful and don’t answer the door to anyone.” He smiled down from his great height and Hana felt warmth play on her cheeks. “You need to tell the cops about the scratches under the car,” Logan insisted again, “it must have something to do with all of this.” His brow creased with worry and the long scar under his right eye wrinkled and changed shape with his perplexity.
“I’ll be fine,” replied Hana. Irritation crept into her voice, “I’ll keep calling Bodie. He’s probably on a night dive somewhere random. The police won’t be interested in some scratches under the car that I can’t swear weren’t there before we bought it. The only person who could definitely say if they were, is Vik, back when he used to get it up over the pit at Doug’s garage and he isn’t really in a position to say much anymore.”
She regretted the words as soon as she heard herself say them and recognised they were spoken out of a sense of self-pity and helplessness. Logan didn’t flinch, nor did he remove his hand from her arm. He looked directly at Hana for a long minute, smiling suddenly and kissing her gently on the cheek. He made it linger, the smell of his fading aftershave musky and addictive and Hana had just admitted to herself that she didn’t want him to leave, when he turned and walked outside. He closed the door behind him and Hana heard him order her to lock it. She heard his steps go firmly down the stairs and onto the driveway. As she stood the
re motionless for a good while, she heard Boris’s car door open and shut and the engine, rev as the vehicle moved away out of the street.
Hana stood in the dark hallway. She made no move to lock the front door or change her position. She felt numb and rigid, like something had finished and she was grieving. But what was the something? Distantly she heard the sound of her mobile, singing out the tune for the William Tell Overture. A silly choice, but one that usually got her attention. Rousing herself, she turned the key in the lock and hung it on the back of the door in its usual place. She made her way upstairs to the kitchen, where her phone had momentarily stopped its orchestral piece on the bench top.
Checking the missed call she saw it was Bodie, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. What could he do? She wasn’t his responsibility, she was his mother. With a heavy heart and not for the last time, Hana missed the companionship of her husband, his ability to take control of problems and see them through. Other people advised, but Vik mended. He always used to joke that he stumbled in where angels feared to tread. Yes, my love, thought Hana sadly, now you’ve joined them.
Bodie texted shortly after. ‘What’s up? On a date in Auckland. She’s nipped to the bathroom.’
Hana texted back that she was fine and just wanted his advice about something, but that it could wait. It was not fair to expect him to be his father. Against all sensible thought, she downed a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and took a couple of out-of-date sleeping pills. Huffing at the use-by date of eight years ago, Hana swallowed them quickly, knowing she would either sleep, or be awake all night because they had made her sick.
Remembering too late that she only had about twenty minutes to spare before they started to work, Hana checked all the doors and windows. The ones at the front were far too high for a person to be able to easily or quietly reach, but she pulled them closed anyhow. Hana turned away from the window only moments before the 4 x 4 slid quietly into the street, turning round at the top of the cul-de-sac and coming to rest on the other side of the road. Its lights were quickly extinguished, but the vehicle doors remained tightly shut.
The street settled down for the night. Lights dwindled in the houses one by one and went out as occupants retired to bed. The darkness became dense and truly blue-black as clouds obscured the quarter moon. The night sounds were punctuated with the occasional squawk from a pukeko as it moved around in the reeds edging the nearby lake and the whirr of a morepork’s wings as it hunted for dinner. The occupant of the vehicle sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, scanning the street periodically, alert and ready. A gloved hand turned the radio on and then when its display lit up like a Christmas tree, switched it rapidly off again.
The out-of-date sleeping tablets did their work effectively on Hana. She only just made it into bed before they kicked in and she slept heavily, so drugged that she stayed absolutely still even in the shallow sleep state, which would usually induce the sleeper to turn over or stir slightly for their own good. Her breathing was heavy and laboured and her dreams confusing and perplexing, but not so much that she would ever remember more than just the feelings of helplessness and dismay at the dream’s events.
The earth turned and the night progressed accordingly as God intended. The morepork caught his mate a juicy mouse for dinner and the pukeko finally gave up trying to rescue the twig which had fallen from her nest and settled down noisily in the reeds.
Chapter 17
Hana awoke to the sound of the dawn chorus. The nights grew longer as autumn approached and it was nearly six o’clock before she groggily opened her eyes. The sleeping tablets had definitely knocked her out but the after effects were particularly hard to shake off. Hana’s head felt detached from her body and lolled uncomfortably once she managed to convince her body to sit up in bed. On reaching the bathroom, she was alarmed by the woman in the mirror who resembled a harpy, with violently sticking up hair and dark circles around her eyes. “Attractive,” she muttered to no-one in particular, which was just as well as even the cat had abandoned her on sight.
Last night’s wine glass sat on the bedside table next to the opened bottle of pills. It seemed to condemn and mock her in the early morning sunshine. Screwing on the childproof lid and debating whether to bin them or not, Hana noticed the instructions for use and while she pondered their fate, read the label, ‘One to be taken with food. Seek medical advice in the event of overdose.’ She had disobeyed every instruction. “Never mind girl, you’re still alive,” she told herself.
Hana blundered around the bedroom and kitchen getting dressed for work and sorting out the cat. Still feeling groggy and sick she opted not to have breakfast, despite staring in the pantry at the selection of instant porridges and jams for ages. Driving to work was going to be interesting. Hana set the burglar alarm in the hallway and stumbled down the stairs to the garage basement. The sensor picked her up as she came around the corner and the light flicked on, illuminating the area at the bottom of the stairs. Opening the internal garage door and stepping into the darkness, Hana was confronted by the sight of her damaged truck. The back bumper was smashed in, the plastic cracked irreparably. Hana turned on the main light and contemplated getting down on her hands and knees and searching for the scratches Logan mentioned. But she couldn’t remember where he’d said the marks were and didn’t have a torch handy. She was also fast approaching the time she normally left home and joined the rush hour traffic moving slowly south.
Without thinking, Hana pressed the garage door release on the wall and the door moved slowly up letting in the cold morning air. Yesterday’s incident in broad daylight flooded back to her as she dithered in the widening gap.
A sudden flurry of movement caught her eye alongside the roar of an engine and a car bumped quickly onto the driveway, its elderly suspension creaking and grinding up the slope. Panic rose in Hana’s chest and taking short, gasping breaths, she edged backwards in the space between the rear wall and a freezer. She felt her heart pounding in her breast and wondered if she could get to the door switch before the occupant of the car reached her.
Hana dropped her handbag to the ground and leapt for the switch at the same time as letting out an exhale which emerged as a sob. The garage door closed much too slowly, the chains rattling overhead as it stirred itself to life as though disturbed from a deep sleep. A shadow appeared in the gap and ducked under the doorway when it was only half way down.
“No, no, no,” Hana sobbed and grappled with the door to upstairs, the handle slipping from her grasp. Logan’s strong frame strode around the truck and approached her.
“Why were you shutting the door on me?” His voice sounded hurt until he saw Hana’s terrified face. Where previously his features showed offence, the realisation he had scared her, brought a look of tremendous guilt as he grasped the situation. “Sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her shuddering body until she calmed. Hana breathed in his masculine scent and took massive gulps of air. Logan’s voice was soft and soothing, resonating through her head from his cheek against her temple. “Boris thought you might like a ride,” he lied, knowing full well it was his idea. “His car has a flat, so we came in Pete’s old banger. There’s room if you want?” He touched his hand lightly to her cheek. “I should have thought...you know, that you might be scared. Sorry.”
His brow knitted momentarily and Hana forced her head to nod, but the ‘thank you’ failed to come as her heart continued to pound inside her chest. Logan picked up her handbag from the concrete floor and carried it to the doorway for her. Handing it to her, his fingers brushed hers and Hana grabbed hold of them for a moment, seeking a sense of reassurance and comfort which contact with him seemed to bring. Logan smiled at her and put his other hand up to her cheek. His fingers lightly brushed her skin and settled on the back of her neck underneath her hair. He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. It sent shivers down her spine and Hana held her breath. But the moment was over and Logan withdrew his hand, sending her u
nder the garage door while he flicked the switch and then ducked out as the gap gradually reduced.
Getting into the shonky old vehicle, Hana was grateful to the guys for not mentioning how truly dreadful she looked and for not discussing the events of yesterday. My life sucks, she thought inwardly, sitting in the back with Logan as the car lurched in the traffic. Peter North fought for clutch control at junctions and on inclines and a hole in his exhaust caused a deep booming sound, which would have been embarrassing to anyone else. North liked it, believing it made the vehicle sound like a boy-racer car.
“Bloody hell, man, grow up,” Logan complained from the back as another loud grumble came from beneath his seat. “How is it a boy-racer when it’s driven by an overweight, balding guy accompanied by a car full of teachers from the local secondary school?” Logan shook his head in exasperation and put two fingers to his head in a shoot-yourself-in-the-head symbol.
Pete bristled, accepting he was overweight and balding but pulling Logan up on one small error. “Hana’s not a teacher!” He wound the window down, ramped up the heavy beat on his screechy music and waved to a motorist in the queue next to him. “Yo, bro’, how ya doin’?” he shouted.
Logan looked sideways out of his window, stealing occasional glances at Hana as she stared at her feet. Hana stretched out her hand and tentatively touched his face. He stirred as Hana’s fingers traced the healing scar under his eye, feeling the knottiness of the line. Hana sighed. He was gorgeous and every time she saw him, Hana realised she fell deeper into something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. As she moved her hand away, she saw her feet again and sighed. “I’ve still got my slippers on.”