by Bowes, K T
Mrs Biology Teacher smiled at Hana prettily. “I love it. I would be so grateful if you’d let us rent your house. It’s beautiful.”
Angus winced and the woman corrected herself, gushing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you. There must be lots of other people, it’s just...” She pointed to her prominent bump. Hana exhaled, remembering what it was like to be pregnant and not know where she would end up. She and Vik had so little support, cowering underneath the disgrace they brought to both families. The couple raised Bodie in a grubby upstairs bedsit while they both finished their degrees, never sure where the next month’s rent would appear from.
Hana smiled sympathetically at the hopeful woman. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, attempting to buy thinking time and extract herself from Angus’ unkind pressure tactics. Thankfully there was milk in the fridge and she managed to rustle up some tea, the children asking for cold water. The little girl, Katy was only two and quite cute. Tiger skulked through to see what all the fuss was about, only to have Katy squeal, “Puss!” loudly and spray her brother and the cat with water from her full mouth. Hana was grateful she hadn’t offered biscuits and Tiger beat a hasty retreat through the cat flap. As both children lunged for the open door, he fled over the back fence and into the section behind. A short time later a frantic barking heralded his victory, as the Rottweiler who lived there, discovered once again his fresh meat had been pilfered right from under his nose.
The couple were desperate for the house; that much was clear and Hana felt sick with the decision of it all. “I have no idea what the going rate is for a property like this and I haven’t advertised it yet or even decided on a vacancy date.”
Angus shifted uneasily in his chair. “I’m so sorry, Hana, I’ve rushed you into it.”
Hana glared at him, recognising a familiar glint in his eye. He had no intention of losing a perfectly good teacher to homelessness and it was obvious he believed Hana’s time had come to make a decision. He and his agent friend must have conspired together as Angus seemed remarkably well informed about the price of a property such as this, in a lovely, leafy suburb with a recreation ground less than a hundred metres away. As if to emphasise his point, the two children began to whoop and squeal with excitement from outside. Thinking Tiger must be braving a return Hana looked out, seeing the beautiful swirling cloth overhead, turning on its heel as the wind caught it. “Someone’s got a kite in the park,” she remarked, watching it spin gracefully in the air currents.
The couple sat on her sofa, expectantly waiting for her to make all their troubles go away and Hana frowned across at Angus as the author of her distress. Finally, Angus spoke into the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Why don’t you lovely people go and have a good look around? I’m sure Hana won’t mind.” Looking pointedly at Hana and smiling serenely, there was little she could do except wave her arms towards the hall door with an ineffectual wafting motion. She managed a nasty glare at Angus. For a woman who huffed and puffed up the front steps, Mrs Biology Teacher could certainly move when faced with possible success. Before Angus finished speaking, the pregnant wife was off and running towards the bedrooms, husband in tow.
“Angus!” Hana whipped round as soon as the couple were decently out of earshot, “How could you? I don’t know if I’m ready yet!”
Angus rose from his sitting position on the sofa, watching the children chase each other round the garden and straight across another of Hana’s flower beds. “My dear, you will never be ready.”
Smiling, he walked into the garden, climbing up the steps to the upper terrace. He sat on the swing seat at the top, admiring the view in the bright sunshine. When the couple emerged from their inspection of the house they found him with a child on either side, telling them some tale about the dragons in Scotland when he was a boy.
By the time Bodie crawled home around five o’clock that night, he found Hana packing with frantic abandon. All the ornaments were gone in the living room and the rug was rolled up by the door. Back at Culver’s Cottage he had successfully repaired all the damaged plasterboard, getting on much faster once the ladders and filler ceased to disappear between jobs. He found his mother hefting things into black bags at the top of the stairs. “Far out, Mum. When I sent you home to pack, I kinda thought you’d mess around for hours. I’m amazed.”
“Bloody Angus!” she groaned. “He gave me no choice!”
A neck tie with a jovial Santa pattern on the fabric flopped over of one of the bin bags, not fully in but not quite out either. Bodie remembered it well and pressed the little squeaker at the back. “I wondered what happened to this,” he mused. A gaudy Christmas tune bleated out of it and Hana watched her son, trying to read his impossibly closed face. “It still works,” he said to himself under his breath.
Sensing her eyes on him Bodie stood up, tied the bag shut and carried it down the stairs. Something in Hana wanted to run after him, drag the tie back out and hold it to her, but she knew if she did that, she would be stuck forever in a world which no longer existed. She didn’t know if her resolve could last until the bin men arrived on Tuesday to take away the rubbish, or if the tie would find its way back into her possession.
Bodie left around six o’clock that night, heading back up to Whangarei and the sparse room in the rental house. Hana found it hard to let him go. They were closer than ever in their common purpose at Culver’s Cottage and she felt devastated at his departure. She hugged him tightly to her. “I love you, darling,” she told him in a whisper. “Keep safe.”
Hana wasn’t the only one who felt broken as her son drove away from her. Closing the door behind him, Hana felt the bitterness in the goodbye. It was her natural instinct to go downstairs to the rubbish bags and she obeyed the lonely urge. Opening each of them, Hana searched for the thing she understood she couldn’t part with after all. After an hour of seeking, she knew it was gone. She also knew she couldn’t ask for it back.
Work on Monday felt depressing and Hana, still smarting from Bodie leaving, felt out of sorts and miserable.
“I’d like you to type this up for me, please?” Caroline asked, placing a rough, handwritten report on Hana’s desk with wooden, jerky movements. Hana turned her face to her computer and typed, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I’m too busy,” she said, acid leaking from every word. “The typist is downstairs in the admin corridor. She does the typing for the deans.” Hana didn’t raise her head and pointedly ignored Caroline’s irritated sigh, causing Sheila’s eyes to nearly pop out of her head in amazement. Failing to get any further reaction, Caroline stalked off and Sheila grabbed her books and fled the office leaving Hana alone.
Hana exhaled and put her head in her hands. She was angry with herself for willingly giving Caroline a hold over her and sank her face into her hands as soon as the office was empty. Rory often asked her to type his reports and she did it without question. “Stupid girl,” she said out loud. “Why give her an excuse to get you fired?”
As if in response, a mobile phone bleeped pitifully into the silence and Hana traced it to Caroline’s desk. Her conscience told her not to read it but an uncharacteristic nastiness arose in her, accompanied by latent curiosity and she pressed a few buttons on the unfamiliar phone until she saw the message. ‘Thx 4 last nite. When cn I see u again? Xxx’
For a techno-moron who couldn’t even work the telly properly at home, Hana could definitely do ‘geek’ when she wanted. She spitefully deleted the message, replaced the phone and then sat with her conscience berating her and her heart thrumming in her chest. Hana felt certain the message was from Logan, although she wiped it before checking the number. The crushing pain in her throat was paralysing. I trusted him. Why on earth did he take me to meet his folks when he was so unsure about how he felt? All that crap about London and tube trains...Hana cringed at the memory of the passionate conversation, laid on the bed in her hotel room, Logan’s soft fingers caressing her cheek. Prickling tears added their weight to
her stupidity. I work in a Church school and he knows I had a teenage pregnancy. He could get me fired. Maybe he’ll tell his new girlfriend and she’ll do it for him.
Hana pulled herself together and dragged herself back to her new resolutions. She talked to Bodie before he left about the rental proposal for Achilles Rise. “Why don’t you use the same rental agent Angus uses for the Gordonton property that Pete and crew rent? At least you can whinge to him if they don’t do a good job.”
Hana decided to take action rather than watch her life crumble before her eyes and stomped down the front stairs and into the reception, almost daring anyone to get in the way of her ill temper. Mary, the principal’s personal secretary was outside his office at her usual post when Hana reached the inner sanctum. She squeaked at Hana as the redhead blasted through the door. “He’s not to be disturbed!”
Angus’ door was open and Hana marched through it, closing it with a slam behind her. Rushing forward to the heavy oak door to listen, Mary heard Hana’s loudly exclamation, “You really dropped me in it! I’m never going to be ready!”
The answering voice was lower and she couldn’t hear any more. Neither could the receptionist who wandered over for a listen and would have held a glass against the door, had one been handy.
Hana emerged an hour later looking puffy eyed and flustered, sparking a nasty rumour she had been sacked. “No!” squeaked the alarmed biology teacher, who had his hopes set on living in her house. Hana hadn’t been sacked, but she was given a lecture by Angus about getting on with her life and not living in the past. “I understand all too well what it’s like to lose a loved one, stuck in a life poorly lived, waiting for them to reappear and carry on as usual.” He was gentle but firm as he handed her another tissue, perched on the corner of his stately desk, patting at Hana’s shoulder.
“But it’s all gone wrong,” she sobbed.
“Then start again!” he commanded. “And again and again and again. But no more stagnating for either of us!”
Hana felt emotional but strangely better, having dumped all the ensuing legalities of the rental on poor Angus. “Fine,” he capitulated. “I’ll engage my agent, deal with the paperwork and present it to you for signing when I feel it’s was fair and ready. Be ready to move out two weekends hence!”
Hana sat in his visitor’s chair open mouthed while he rang the removals company to book it. Angus replaced his handset and smiled sweetly in satisfaction, while Hana felt like she’d been driven over by a bus. “Go home, darling Hana. I’ll square it with Donald for you. Go home and pack. Stop wallowing girl!”
Chapter 39
The following Sunday afternoon, Hana stood in her dining room and surveyed her home of many years. It looked sad and empty, her possessions stacked in boxes around the room ready to be taken down to the garage. All week she had flitted between work and the usual brand of chaos and home and an entirely different brand all of her own making. Yet there still seemed so much stuff lying around, butted up to the skirting boards in every room. A sharp rap on the door told Hana the battery had run out for the doorbell. Hana clattered down the stairs in her slippers, the lack of furniture making her footsteps echo dully on the bare carpet.
She opened the door, a vague smile plastered on her face to mask her irritation at the disturbance. Logan stood at the top of the steps sheltering under the small porch. Rain drove onto his back, plastering his hair to his head and his jacket looked damp on the shoulders. His eyes held Hana’s in a firm grip although his fingers shook as he ran a wet hand across his forehead. “Please can I talk to you?” he began. “I don’t understand what’s happened between us. If I’ve done something…” He stopped abruptly, faced with Hana’s indignant incredulity.
“What happened between us?” she squawked and stuttered. “What happened between us was you cheated on me with your ex-fiancé! Go away. Leave me alone! And have a nice life!”
Hana launched herself inside and slammed the door. She stomped up the stairs loudly, enjoying the sound her righteous indignation made in the echoing hallway. Having relished the slam of the front door, she also slammed the hall and bedroom doors. She almost threw herself on the bed in temper, fortunately remembering at the last moment it had been dismantled.
Logan was dismayed and confused. He went quietly down the front steps to his truck parked on the driveway, dropping spots of oil from its leaking sump. He delayed the unlocking process hoping Hana might reconsider, but she didn’t. All he heard was a series of loud bangs and crashes from inside.
The insistent hammering on the door five minutes later sounded loud in the empty landing. Hana was in the process of dragging a large, heavy box through the house, having packed it in a frenzy of rage. How dare he just turn up wanting to talk! She wondered cynically if it had gone wrong with Ms Marsh already and spitefully hoped it had. She ignored the knocking for the first few minutes, fully occupied with manoeuvring the awkward cardboard weight through the door of the master bedroom. For a second or two she doubted it was going to go through, but by hauling it diagonally first one way then the other, it emerged with a pop. She pulled it the length of the hall, leaving dark pile tracks along the carpet. Going backwards, she got up momentum and shot onto the landing, almost pitching down the stairs to the front door. Hana didn’t want to open the door again, but the frosted glass panels either side of it betrayed her presence and the knocking became more purposeful.
Marching down the stairs for the second time, Hana wrenched the door open, her face a picture of anger as she readied herself to banish Logan forever. The door banged hard against the little hall table behind it and knocked it into the wall. Hana was momentarily stunned, not having pulled the handle hard enough to achieve that degree of force.
“Hey sweetheart, going somewhere?” The big blonde man moved quickly over the threshold, grabbed Hana around the throat and pushed her roughly back onto the stairs behind her. “Get that door shut!” he issued the order over his shoulder. He was followed into the house by his companion, who shut the door quietly behind him and surveyed the scene with a chilling calm, the dismantled furniture stacked at the top of the stairs and the cardboard box askew next to it.
“Someone’s doin’ a runner.” His Oriental accent mangled the words.
Hana felt the small bones along her spine crunch and creak, taking the impact of the stairs as the intruder forcefully flattened her. His grip on her throat was tight and she became aware of her breathing difficulties when she heard herself gasp. Hana’s attacker seemed reluctant to release her even a little, bending menacingly over her and staring down with naked hatred. “Hello again.” He smiled as his fringe dangled close to her forehead. The hardness in his eyes ruined the attractive masculine bone structure and twinkling blue eyes. The man sat astride Hana, his weight across her stomach. She recognised his scent from their altercation over her Serena and anger flashed in her eyes.
“You stole my car!” Her voice sounded choked and hoarse.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Hope you find it.” The blonde man winked and planted a kiss on Hana’s lips, further cutting off her breathing.
She heard her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums and felt panic and helplessness merge together in her confused brain, paralysing her. Her former anger would have been useful, had it not deserted her the instant the man grabbed her by the throat. Hana spectacularly fell from the role of justifiably-angry-woman, to victim, still and quiet, waiting for her attacker to make his next move. It was a transition that made her soul feel as though it had been dragged across broken glass. Powerlessness left a sickening taste in her mouth.
“Hey, don’t kill her, she needs to tell us where it is.” The Asian man sounded irritated.
“I wouldn’t do it like this,” the blonde scoffed and his grip eased as he reached into his front pocket. A knife handle emerged in his long fingers and with a flick, the blade was exposed, its metal bright and glossy in the fading sunlight. The man held the point to Hana’s throat and smiled at her.
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“Stop!” His companion lost patience. “Have fun when we find it.”
With a tsk of disappointment, the blonde released his grip on Hana’s immobile, compliant form. He stood up straight, looking at the Asian man with a veiled hatred which he brought under control in the blink of an eye. The Asian’s face was fixed and severe as he indicated the upstairs with a pointed index finger. “Start up there.”
Hana was hauled up by her right arm. The blonde set her roughly on her feet and pushed her up the stairs in the same fluid motion. He shoved her hard, causing her to stumble at the top before leaning in towards her terrified face and asking in a hoarse whisper, “Where is it? We can do this the easy way or the hard. It don’t matter to me, sweetheart. I’ll enjoy either.”
Helplessness rose as bile inside Hana’s throat as she realised she had nothing to bargain with. She didn’t know what they wanted. She wouldn’t be able to get out of this mess. “I don’t know,” she heard herself squeak, “I don’t know what you want.”
The Asian stared at her as she half sat, half kneeled on the stairs ahead of him. He fixed on her face as though weighing up her honesty or moreover, her ability to lie. He shook his head, irritation lighting his face. “I don’t know if she lies. Take her up there.” He jerked his head towards the stairs.
“But she’s running,” the blonde man insisted. “She’s shipping out. I’m telling you, she’s got it!”
Hana was shoved harshly up the remaining steps on her knees. Turning left down the hallway into the living area, she fell over the box. She emerged in the family room where she had sat with the biology teacher and his wife cordially drinking tea just a few days before. Dismantled furniture was stacked around the walls. Those items needing to remain in one piece were grouped towards the east end of the room near the kitchen. Boxes were littered from wall to wall, leaving only small walking areas between. Some boxes were sealed, some half-filled and open. The place was a bombsite.