Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  The visit went incredibly quickly between Hana going to work and back and the elderly couple entertaining themselves. A couple of times Hana lent them the Serena so they could go further afield and Logan picked her up in his truck. The Serena was larger than Deepak’s usual drive and tested his parking skills no end. Although it was never mentioned, a number of new dents appeared in the bodywork of the truck, one of them looking like the side panel had got into a fight with a parking meter. Indra watched one morning from the sunroom window as Logan pulled up onto the driveway to pick Hana up. Hana turned and waved at the window, but Indra looked pained and didn’t wave back.

  The morning Deepak and Indra were due to leave, Hana awoke with a sick feeling in her stomach and heart. Living on the other side of the world from her kin, she had discovered that the goodbyes got worse instead of better, as with the advancing years the likelihood of ever meeting again got less and less. The parting became more terrible as various goodbyes proved to be the last. Hana lay in bed feeling tearful and sad to her bones and wondering how on earth she could keep it together long enough, so as not to depress her in-laws and make the last few hours unbearable for them all. The wasted years groaned with the weight of lost time, time she had spent dreading their input and their interference when she could have enjoyed them instead and welcomed their support.

  Such is the unfairness of life, she concluded, that after quarter of a century of relationship, she should finally connect with these people who were about to leave her possibly forever.

  An unwelcome voice in her head began its whispered messaging, they always leave you in the end, but she banished it as firmly as she dared, knowing the thoughts would return in the darkness and taunt her with her aloneness.

  Hearing the sound of plates and cutlery being used in the kitchen, Hana showered and dressed quickly and went down to join Vik’s parents for their last breakfast together.

  Chapter 23

  Having been away from church and out of circulation for a while during Indra and Deepak’s visit, Hana had not seen Anka socially at all. She sought her out on Monday morning. Other than the occasional wave as they dashed past each other on the way to somewhere, they hadn’t had their customary chat and giggle for rather too long. Hana arrived at Anka’s office in time for morning tea break, hoping they could walk up to the staff room together. There was nobody there, although her computer screen was on and a veritable mound of detritus was littered over her desk.

  “Shop!” came a voice from under the table in the corner. Hana turned quickly and spied the soles of a pair of elderly flip-flops poking out. “She’s helping in the shop,” continued the feet as they emerged from under the desk, accompanied by a large bottom and scantily clad top half, which appeared to be armed with rubbish. On patient inspection, the feet belonged to a university student, who came every year during the semester holidays to input data onto the classroom management system. She waved the papers heartily. “I put the ceiling fan on and everything flew everywhere. Made a right mess!”

  At that moment the bell went for interval and Hana, eager to be up in the staff room drinking a well-deserved cup of the terrible coffee dished out to staff, double-checked, “So Anka’s in the shop? That’s odd. She doesn’t usually help there. I wonder why?”

  The student stopped and looked straight at Hana as though she was thick. “I dunno do I?” she said, thumping herself down at her seat, but not before the papers tumbled out of her grasp and scattered all over the floor again.

  Hana beat a hasty retreat to the shop, but got there at the same time as a massive gaggle of Year 9s, sent by their exasperated teacher to purchase the equipment they should have had all term. There was no sign of Anka, but as she turned to leave, Hana spotted Lief the pretty shop assistant and called over the heads of the boys, to ask if Anka was around.

  “She went to the stockroom on the first floor to find something with a student,” was the reply, “hope she comes back soon, it’s crazy today with Sandra off sick!”

  Hana promised to go and find Anka and hurry her up. No coffee and a chat today then. Trotting up the first flight, Hana noticed that the stockroom door which led off a bend on the stairs was ajar. She felt relieved she hadn’t missed her friend. It was a curious cupboard left over from the original building, the door opening dangerously outwards onto the small, split landing. Instead of a normal lock, it had a number code access box on it. It was supposed to be easier, punching in a four-digit code during the busy rush on the stairs between lessons and negated the need for every staff member to have a key. But that theory only worked if you were good at remembering numbers.

  Hana pulled the door towards her gently, surprised by the presence of a vibrant blue stiletto shoe resting between the door and the frame. She felt conscious that there was nothing worse than bursting in on someone who wasn’t expecting it. She was halted by the sound of agitated voices and curiosity got the better of her. The stockroom occupied an L shaped area underneath the second floor level at the dogleg where the stairs turned sharply upwards, so the ceiling was slanted. The occupants were around the corner and out of sight but could be plainly heard. “No!” Anka pleaded. “No. It just won’t work. You’re screwed up enough, you don’t need this. It’s not right.”

  “Look,” a male voice softly entreated, “nobody will know. It will be ok. I leave at the end of this year. It’ll be fine.”

  “You know how I feel about you,” came Anka’s unmistakable accent, “but we can’t do this anymore. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong right now.”

  Hana heard the strain in Anka’s voice and decided to intervene without making it obvious she had heard the whispered exchange. She reached backwards and kicked the bottom of the door, at the same time swiping a stack of exercise books deliberately onto the floor. Hana bent to pick them up again, making a great fuss of shuffling them all together to buy Anka time. She saw through the far corner of the shelves that the occupants of the room were frozen in position, visibly trying to gather themselves.

  A tall, handsome male in a Year 13s white prefect shirt had both arms wrapped round Anka. He held her close and very protectively. Anka’s cheeks were bright pink as she emerged from around the corner and, using all her acting ability, called over her shoulder to the student, “There aren’t any left. Nip back to the shop please and ask them to order some more. They’ll take a couple of days to come through.”

  The student squeezed awkwardly past the two women, stumbling over the shoe in the doorway. Over six feet tall, he was well-built with dark colouring. He was beyond simply good looking, leaning towards devastating. Hana felt sure she had seen him somewhere before. His olive skin and the smiling curve of his dark eyes looked familiar. The eyes were not smiling now though. They were wary and the body was stiff and ungainly as the student left the stockroom and went back down the stairs. His shirt was untucked at the back showing it was getting too small for him. Half way down, he turned and looked pointedly at Anka.

  Hana heard her friend let out the smallest exhale, but in that single breath was desperation and misery. Hana said nothing, but waited for her to speak. “How much did you hear?” Anka asked, with defeat sounding in every word. Hana decided to be honest.

  “Enough,” she replied, not sure what else she could say. Anka began to collect herself as she poked out her foot, seating the shoe onto it without bending down. She spoke in a halting, dead voice, sounding as though she was relating some boring story.

  “He and Gareth have been friends for years. He’s often stayed over. A few months ago I was alone and stupidly let him stay. He made a pass at me and I let him. Now I’ve made a complete mess of everything, my life, his life. His life stinks as it is. His mum left when he was little and his uncle pays for him to live in the boarding house. Apparently his dad gets so drunk that he starts smashing up. Five years he’s been turning up at ours, sleeping on the sofa. I’ve been washing his clothes, giving him breakfast...for goodness sake! I tried to stop it, I did. I just find him
really...” Confession seemed to be the undoing of Anka and she burst into tears, her words coming out as a plea, “Oh my God, what’s happened to me?”

  Hana put her hand on her friend’s shoulder whilst silently praying for her. She had no idea what to say. It had started months ago; Hana was shocked. As the sobbing subsided, Anka unexpectedly seemed to want to confess everything but as she listened, Hana found she wasn’t ready to hear any more. It put her in a dreadfully compromising situation. Hana felt awful stopping Anka’s flow but she needed to think, “Look Anka, they want you in the shop, but we do need to talk about this. How about we meet tonight, in Starbuck’s at Chartwell?” Hana kept her hand on her friend’s shoulder but at the interruption, felt her stiffen.

  Woodenly Anka replied, “Fine. At seven o’clock, after I get dinner finished.” She pushed a little roughly past Hana and made to go through the stockroom door out onto the stairs, but stopped suddenly and turned back to her. “Don’t you dare tell Logan!”

  It was said forcefully and with a spite that Hana didn’t immediately understand. Then Anka was gone, gliding elegantly down the stairs in her designer navy suit and high heels. Why on earth would I tell Logan? Hana thought sadly. It would just put him in the same awful position I’m in professionally now.

  The bell sounded and Hana pulled the stockroom door shut behind her, arriving back in the common room still engrossed in her thoughts. She worked solidly until home time without stopping for lunch. She didn’t feel hungry anyway. Making numerous silly errors on her budgets, she tidied up the office instead, putting out new brochures and overhauling the displays. It was physical work and kept her occupied without taxing her laden brain too much. If she couldn’t talk sense into her friend, she would have to inform Angus that one of his admin staff was having an affair with a student. She had no choice.

  Heavy hearted, Hana chose not to ride with North and crew and opted for the bus home, dreading the meeting with a good friend whom she suddenly felt she no longer knew.

  Chapter 24

  The Serena still wasn’t fixed and the garage Hana always used for servicing or semi-serious dings, didn’t seem to be making her bumper or Deepak’s additional dents much of a priority. So she donned her trainers and started out to Chartwell on foot. Hopefully, Anka would be able to give her a ride home; otherwise it would be a long hike back in the dark. It was a pleasant walk and gave her time to think and pray for wisdom. Hana arrived a few minutes early and sat in Starbucks, feeling as nervous as if she had come for a job interview. Anka was late and blasted in at a quarter past looking flushed and slightly irritated, but magnificent in tailored jeans and an expensive jacket. Hana felt, not for the first time around Anka, a little underdressed and inadequate in her stretchy track pants and hoodie.

  They ordered their coffee and sat quietly in comfy green armchairs around the corner, in relative privacy waiting for it to be made. It felt awkward and they made small talk until the barista called out their order. Hana went to the counter to fetch the drinks and then took her time getting sugars and stirrers, while she contemplated what she could say to her friend that might be remotely helpful. Settling herself, Hana was surprised by Anka’s first question. “How’s it going with Logan?”

  Not quite sure how to answer, she fumbled it and felt embarrassed and bizarrely defensive. “It’s fine, we’re fine,” adding, “we’re just friends at the moment.”

  To her horror, she saw Anka’s lip curl ever so slightly and a little spitefully, before her face became set in a ‘fine-whatever-you-say’ kind of way. Feeling more than a little lost, Hana looked away and sipped her coffee. Anka started again, “I suppose you want to hear all the gory details about Tama and me?”

  Hana felt tense and unprepared despite all the thinking she had done and her answer felt lame on her lips. “I want to be a good friend and help you sort this out…” It died on her tongue. Anka’s face expression and posture showed her unresponsiveness. There was a hardness about her that hadn’t been there before. She seemed resolute and spiky, not her usual giggly, smiling self, always willing to see the best in people. That Anka was gone.

  “I can see that you’re judging me. I’m sleeping with an eighteen year old student after all. What do you think that makes me?”

  Hana was entirely lost for words. She knew what the law said that made her, but wasn’t about to say it. She fudged yet another start to a sentence but Anka waded on regardless. “I know he’s only eighteen, but he’s very mature, maybe because of what he’s been through, at home and stuff. But he makes me feel so alive and needed. He’s tender and caring and quite expert in…other ways. I’ve thought and tried, but I can’t give him up. It would totally screw him up, he adores and trusts me and I’m not about to destroy him.”

  “What about your lovely husband, Ivan?” interjected Hana, sensing that Anka pivoted on the edge of disaster. “What about destroying your marriage and your children? What are Charlotte and Gareth going to think? This boy is your son’s friend! Anka please think about this some more!” Hana felt indignant. Poor Ivan. He didn’t deserve this.

  “Look Hana, I know this all seems…ridiculously cruel, but I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I love Tama. I know it’s wrong and all of that and don’t think I haven’t considered the consequences. But I love him. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “But it is so wrong,” countered Hana, “on every level! Anka think about what you’re saying, you’re having sex with an eighteen year old student from the school you work in. Please think about how it looks?”

  Hana’s voice had gotten louder as she appealed to her friend and Anka’s eyes darted around, anxious that anyone else might have heard. Inwardly Hana kicked herself. Something inside told her she had lost this argument and she felt devastated. She used a last ditch attempt to get Anka to see reason. “How about we go and see Pastor Allen…together…I’ll come with you. We can talk it out properly, he’ll know what to do…”

  Hana was drowned out by Anka’s muted shriek, “No!” Her voice dropped to a whispered but forceful hiss, “No way! Don’t you dare tell him about this. I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

  And then she was gone, striding through the food court towards the lift. As she reached the lift and pressed the down-button, she turned and stared Hana straight in the eye. The force of the look reached across the thirty metre distance, across the heads of families eating their McDonald’s. It pierced through the years of friendship and Christian fellowship in good times and bad and reached through the glass surrounding the Starbucks enclosure, severing something deep and precious in Hana’s chest. For it was a look of warning and threat. Hana’s face was ashen as she withered under what she saw in Anka’s eyes. Their friendship was over, destroyed by the oldest trick in Satan’s book, sex. And with the current of madness would go Anka’s faith, her marriage, her relationship with her children, her job and if the authorities got wind of it, her liberty.

  Hana leaned forward in her chair with both hands covering her eyes until she knew she had prevented the hot, angry tears from falling. It was almost eight o’clock and the sky through the skylights was dark as Hana made for the lift doors and a long, lonely hike home.

  Emerging from the brightly lit mall, Hana walked through the car park, sticking to the areas lit by tall, old-fashioned street lamps. Over in the back corner she spotted the front of Anka’s stylish black sports car, glinting under the artificial haze of the lamps. Hana hesitated, trying to decide if she should go over to her. She walked slowly towards the vehicle, stopping for a large minibus to pass, noticing at the last minute there were two occupants in the car.

  As she got closer, Hana saw Anka in the passenger seat dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. The driver was Tama. He turned to Anka and kissed her slowly on the lips, holding her as though she was made of the finest and most delicate Dresden china. Their intimacy placed an invisible hedge around the car through which Hana could not trespass.

  She changed direction
and thinking, stuff it, pushed through the perimeter bushes and out onto the road. She was anxious and upset by the situation but in her rose an inexplicable feeling of jealousy at their intimacy which made her feel lonely and sickened. Memories and comforting images of Vik for once did nothing to lessen the emptiness. It was never ok to break up a marriage.

  The walk home seemed long and hazardous. It was pitch dark apart from the streetlamps that began as Hana got nearer to her suburb. In the eighty kilometre zones, they were far and few between. Hana passed three different recreation areas, tree lined and deserted, inwardly admonishing herself for her isolation and stupidity in walking alone. Bodie would have a fit if he could see her right now. He would say she was ‘asking for it’ and what ‘it’ was, she didn’t want to speculate upon. Spooked by every night noise and fighting the urge to hide each time she saw headlights approaching, Hana beetled on home, reaching the safety of her front door at just after nine o’clock, when it was well and truly dark.

  She had left lights on at home, expecting to arrive once night fell and they beckoned to her from the bright, enticing windows of the sunroom on the first floor.

  As she rounded the corner into Achilles Rise, Hana saw a large 4 x 4 parked on her driveway and immediately slowed, approaching it from the rear. Music crooned gently from the cab, drifting out through the partially open driver’s window. As Hana got nearer, she recognised Logan’s registration number and relaxed. Knocking on the window caused the driver to jump and turn sharply in his seat and then smile as he saw it was Hana. He opened the door and stepped down onto the sloping concrete. “Hey,” he said, moving close to her and playing absentmindedly with a lock of her hair. “I called by to see if you wanted to go out. Chartwell had late night opening tonight. I decided to wait around to make sure you got home ok. I know your car’s still crook.”