by Bowes, K T
The major flaw in the plan was that Henrietta point blank refused to take her back to Achilles Rise. She made Hana sit at the kitchen table while she carefully changed the dressing on her hand using an archaic but surprisingly well-stocked first aid kit. Hana was impatient to be off home and sensing her distress, Tiger began to pace and mew. Realising Henrietta was not going to help her, Hana confided in her. “Logan broke up with me when his ex-fiancé turned up. What will Caroline say if she finds out I slept in Logan’s bed?” Then another ungrateful thought popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I hope she didn’t stay at my house last night with him! I don’t want her anywhere near my stuff or me! I need to leave, Henri, please will you help me?”
Henrietta’s face remained blank throughout Hana’s rambling before she asked with complete honesty, “Dear, who are we talking about? Who’s Caroline?”
Hana sighed in frustration, but before she could answer she heard the gravel crunch on the driveway outside. Her heart leapt into panic beating mode and she jumped out of her chair, wrenching her hand away from Henrietta before she finished with the plaster strip. The scissors Henrietta were using to cut the gauze flipped across the table and landed on the parquet floor with a ting sound. Hana fled. She knew she was being ridiculous even as she acted out the bizarre scene and that looking for somewhere to hide was probably not normal.
It was Boris who came into the room and Boris who gently coaxed the sobbing Hana out from behind the curtains.
“You can’t go home,” Henrietta stated, displaying extreme patience as Boris sat next to Hana on the sofa, his arm firmly around her shoulders and a concerned look on his face.
“Nein,” he agreed, “you vill be a…how you say…mit den nerven völlig am ende…not happy…all over ze place.” He hugged her to him, patting her on the top of her head, sincerely believing it to be the only place that didn’t hurt whilst looking conspiratorially at Henrietta and raising his eyebrows.
“Look Hana, all that effort, getting dressed and sorting yourself out. It’s made you exhausted. Here,” Henrietta offered a bottle of tablets out to Hana and then shook out two into her open hand. “Take these pain killers and have a lie down. Your neck…” she faltered, stuck for words and Boris finished for her,
“It looks zer bad. Go back to ze bedroom and get zum rest. I vill vake you if you vish later.”
With that, he hauled her to her feet and led her back to Logan’s room. Reluctantly Hana lay down after taking the two white pills with a glass of water which Henrietta held for her to drink from. Fighting the growing fatigue Hana lay down, knowing she had been tricked and given something strong as she slipped quickly into troubled sleep before the others had fully left the room.
As a worried Boris and Henrietta settled themselves back in the kitchen, the black and white cat sneaked down the hall and into the bedroom, springing up onto the bed with his mistress. He made a nest behind her knees and settled there. Next time she needed him he would not be off chasing birds two streets away. Hana slept fitfully this time. She dreamed Bodie came and whispered with Logan and Anka appeared as a fairy and told her she was still her friend and Tama had gone back to being a frog. The fat cat weighed heavily on the blanket Henrietta had laid over her and Hana dreamed her legs were tied together on school sports day and she had to bounce her way to the finish line in the mothers’ race where Izzie waited for her. At some point, she was on the beach holding an ice cream for Vik which rapidly melted and ran up her arm, but he ran away from her laughing and wouldn’t come back.
Hana awoke feeling wrung out, her brain addled and confused. The bandage on her hand felt sticky and her arm was wet. The dripping ice cream turned out to be blood. The day had disappeared from under her and an eerie half-light toned the room. Wondering why she was suddenly paralysed from the knees down, she reached out and discovered the snoring cat sprawled across her legs and feet. They felt quite bloodless and leaden. She disturbed him by trying to move and he sat up and licked himself. Hana persuaded her body to respond to the signals she felt sure her brain was not conveying properly. “I need to leave, useless cat. Why can’t you help me?”
Through the open door, a half-light came from a lamp in the hallway. Hearing voices, Hana stirred herself and managed to sit up. It was mildly easier than it had been to lever herself off the bed and pad to the door. Moving silently down the hall but needing to lean periodically against the wall, Hana came to the kitchen without being heard. There were nine people squashed around the large kitchen table. Nine concerned faces turned towards her. Logan, Pete, Boris and Henrietta faced her as she leaned in the doorway and a police officer and his female counterpart sat opposite them. Angus sat with his back to her, but turned as she entered and the other two were a complete surprise.
Her son rose and came towards her. He still wore his police issue shirt and slacks but had covered them with a jacket. Hana felt more relieved than she could say at his capable presence in this nightmare. “Bodie,” she whispered gratefully into the front of his jacket, clinging to the fabric to stop the others seeing her tears.
“Hey, Hana.” The other man stood up and walked shyly over. His dog collar glowed a peculiar white in the dim light, but he hugged her gently whilst giving her greetings from Izzie and baby Elizabeth. Izzie was furious with her husband as he boarded the plane, but it was his brother-in-law Bodie asked for, not his sister.
Henrietta dutifully rose to set the kettle off boiling again and another chair was pulled up for Hana to delicately lower herself onto. On the table was a book filled with pages and pages of men’s’ faces and a laptop sat open in front of the policewoman. The policewoman, Shelley, moved to shut the laptop lid, but Bodie shook his head and pulled it towards him. “Mum,” he said firmly, “will you look at some of these? We need to find these guys.”
He didn’t add the word, quickly, but Hana heard the undertone. While Henrietta brewed tea in an old yellow teapot with a chip on the spout, Hana trawled quietly through the images that scrolled in front of her. The Asian man failed to appear, but her sharp intake of breath told everyone around the table that the blonde man was there on the screen. Hana felt sick looking at his image. In the photo his hair was longer but still blonde and he was clean-shaven. It was the same guy she had no doubt about it. “This man,” Hana said, her voice wavering slightly as her pupils dilated. “He had a knife and the blade popped out of the handle. He held it up to my throat...” Hana gulped as her bandaged hand touched her jawline, feeling the tiny nick from the sharp point.
“It’s ok, Hana. We took your statement last night. You don’t have to talk about it now but if you remember anything else, please ring me directly.” Without looking up, Shelley made copious notes in her pocketbook and pushed a business card across the table to Hana. She pushed it around in front of her and shook her head.
“I think I’ve already got one of these...from before.”
The policeman went outside. “Bad reception in here,” he said as he excused himself but Hana suspected it was to get privacy. Hana drank her tea with a degree of difficulty made even harder by her audience, who alternately sipped and stared. Finally, the policeman returned from outside, letting a great waft of cold air in and the cat out. Shelley gathered up her laptop and her files and they prepared to leave.
“Now you’ve both identified one of the offenders, it should be easy to pick him up. Have a good night and Mrs Johal, I would strongly recommend you spend the night here, rather than...well, anywhere else. There are alternative places we can put you, but here would be best.”
They went into the night with clinking belts and chirping radios. Moments later the dull sound of a siren in the distance let those remaining around the table know it would be a busy night for the pair. Hana reasoned foggily inside her still banging head, that Logan must have identified the same man. She sneaked a look at him over her mug. He sat with a glass of water in front of him, avoiding eye contact with her. His body was stiffly placed in the chair an
d his eyes flickered at the sight of Hana in his clothes. He caught her eye and wiped away the look of pain as though it had never really been there. The knuckles of Logan’s left hand were grazed and scuffed with a blue bruise spreading over the middle finger. Hana realised with shame that she hadn’t even asked if he was all right.
Around midnight Bodie, Marcus and this time Boris, set off for Achilles Rise. Hana protested loudly, but they had decided on this course of action and were not to be dissuaded. Hana tried to get Bodie alone and they had a whispered argument. “Please don’t leave me here with him,” Hana begged and Bodie looked alarmed.
“Why?”
“He dumped me for someone else. Please don’t humiliate me by making me stay here.”
“Your safety’s more important right now.” Bodie had his cop’s head on and emotion didn’t come into it. “It’s just for one night. I’d rather you were with him than the guys who attacked you. And anyway, if it weren’t for him...” Bodie left the sentence unfinished.
Powerlessness enveloped Hana as the vehicles pulled off the drive. “They tipped out all my packing,” she insisted, hearing her plaintive repetition.
Angus left a little after the boys. “The official work story is that you’re ill. The police were quite clear. They want no unnecessary interest in your story at the moment, possibly until the men are apprehended.”
“I thought they usually asked the public for help,” Hana grumbled. “But they don’t seem to care much about what happens to me anyway.”
Henrietta padded off to her guest room and Pete to his dreadful pigsty at the other end of the house. It seemed they were keeping to their purity vow and Hana was pleased for them, even if the sideways looks she intercepted between them demonstrated that it was Henrietta who was the driving force behind it. After the drugs and the monumental sleep, Hana wasn’t tired but there was only Logan left in the kitchen and she wasn’t sure what to do.
A frantic scratching on the glass of the French doors into the kitchen caused them both to jump, Hana launching into panic mode instantly. Logan strode over and looked through the windows but saw nothing. Wordlessly Hana pointed down at the bottom pane nearest the doorsill to the two amber eyes peering through the glass. Two padded feet beat an impatient tattoo on the surface. Logan swore softly and opened the door.
Tiger swaggered importantly in, strutting his stuff like a feline advert for cat food. Too late, Logan spotted the wiggling tail hanging out of his mouth and swore again as he tried to catch him. “Bloody hell, he’s got a mouse! Where’s he getting them all from?”
Tiger seemed most offended he wasn’t able to deliver his gift to his mistress personally and hissed and spat through tightly closed jaws, before hotfooting it down the hall and slipping into one of the bedrooms.
“Did he go left or right?” Logan whispered as he reached the hall door, but could no longer see the cat.
“Left,” Hana answered, “where does that go? Gosh, I’m so sorry. What a complete nuisance!” She sighed and tried to run her hand over her eyes but winced as the stitches in her palm passed over the bridge of her nose. Logan watched her silently, looking awkward, like he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say. Eventually, he sat down heavily on one of the old couches.
“Oh well, Henrietta may have a little surprise in her room tomorrow, but it won’t be Pete!” Logan laughed hollowly.
Hana grabbed a piece of kitchen roll and mopped at the dried blood on her arm. It scratched and scraped but didn’t achieve anything so she got another piece and tried to wet it first. Logan fetched the small first aid kit and they sat at the table while he tried to replicate Henrietta’s earlier dressing. It felt uncomfortable and intimate and their faces were close as he leaned over her hand to stick down another plaster strip. Logan worked with his tongue trapped between his lips as he concentrated and it was cute. Hana fought the urge to breathe in his musky scent, mentally blocking her nose and resisting the feelings she still had for him. Glancing up suddenly at the muted hoot of a morepork in the darkness outside, she noticed the pillows stacked up at the end of the sofa and a sleeping bag laid haphazardly next to them. She felt guilty. Plainly this was Logan’s bed for the night.
Logan pressed down the final strip and turned Hana’s hand over, not letting go. “Han,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I want us to work this out.” His lips were soft as he pressed them over hers and Hana closed her eyes, realising the ordeal hadn’t completely robbed her of the desire to be touched. “Hana, I love you,” he said, his breath soft against her skin.
“No.” Guilt brought her to her senses. “I can’t do this. I won’t be made a fool of again.”
They sat in silence for a while as Hana struggled to still her racing heart, pushing away Logan’s proffered hand and ignoring the hurt in his face. But he had been kind to her and she needed to rise above her jaded feelings and be the bigger person. “I’m sorry Logan,” Hana began, “I haven’t been fair to you. If you and Caroline wanted to get back together, it was nothing to do with me...”
She stopped in alarm as Logan lurched forward over the table as though he was going to be sick, his hands across his eyes. A long exclamation issued from his mouth which betrayed irritation and anger. She thought she heard the words, “Oh my God,” faintly. The atmosphere was electric and his eyes as he sat up, glittered and sparkled dangerously. “Go to bed, Hana!” was all he said.
Hana fled to the bedroom but spent the endless night tossing and turning while sleep evaded her. She berated herself in a tireless loop. She had not only ruined a friendship but her working environment. There was nothing for it; she would have to find a new job. There’s certainly no fool like an old fool. Rejection was a physical pain in her ribs, sickeningly familiar and all the more painful for its repeat appearance. Hana cursed her own stupidity in getting involved and vowed it was the last time.
The cat turned up before morning as Hana finally nodded off and purred and kneaded at her, using the claws on all four feet. Thankfully he had eaten the mouse, which didn’t bear thinking about especially as he kept pushing his furry nose into her face to see if she was all right. The other alternative was that he had deposited it somewhere else. Hana hoped the ‘somewhere else’ wouldn’t cause a stink in a number of possible ways.
Pete stumbled out of bed just before seven thirty, seriously intending to leave at seven thirty-five, which inadvertently explained why he spent the first few hours of work-time waking up. He found Hana already up and dressed in her own clothes. Her track pants had mysteriously appeared on the airer the previous evening and Henrietta had managed to get the tee shirt almost clean.
The bathroom mirror showed a much better colour in Hana’s cheeks although the dreadful hand marks on her neck had gone purple and blue to compliment the original red hues. “I’m going home and you’re taking me,” she told a wide eyed Pete. Discovering he was going to Achilles Rise to pick up Boris anyway, merely strengthened her resolve and she bullied him into taking her there.
“Logan will kill me,” he hissed, wincing at Hana’s retort that she didn’t really care.
Wrapping the reluctant cat in a blanket from the airing cupboard, Hana plonked herself in the passenger seat of Pete’s car while he was still cleaning his teeth and was gone before the rest of the house woke up.
It spared her seeing the abject dismay on Logan’s face when he saw his empty but tidy bedroom and the scream from Henrietta, when she stepped out of bed and onto Tiger’s little gift. Becoming peckish whilst delivering the present, he had eaten the best bits, leaving the entrails in her slipper.
Chapter 41
Hana arrived home to find a startled Bodie stumbling down the hallway to the kitchen. Boris was up and ready to go, but stuffing toast into his mouth so didn’t hear the bell. Hana had left without a key so couldn’t let herself in and Tiger fled as soon as the car landed on the driveway. He vented his indignation by tormented sparrows on the roof, twenty metres or so above the street.
&nbs
p; A letter from the insurance company hung out of the post box informing Hana her car would need to remain absent for another two months before they would pay out on her claim. Liability was being sought from the garage owner for negligence. For some strange reason the Honda was out on the driveway, along with Bodie’s car. “I don’t think they’ve seen my new car,” she said with relief. “It was in the garage and they didn’t go down there. Hopefully they don’t know my new registration number.”
Pete didn’t share her enthusiasm, tapping his foot and giving her evil eyes for making him go against Logan.
“Please stop it, Pete,” Hana said wearily. “You’re making my head ache. Go and wait for Boris in the car.”
Marcus was fast asleep in Izzie’s old room and it appeared they had taken shifts on watch in case anyone returned to finish the job. “The person on watch has been packing to keep them awake,” Bodie informed his mother.
Almost every box was stacked neatly with its compatriots in the garage. Hence there were no cars in there. Hana’s labelling system was abandoned shortly after the boys took over, but certainly everything was packed. Literally everything; which explained why Boris ate directly out of the toaster, having spread margarine with the lid from the jam. All Hana’s furniture sat in the family room, squashed and stacked, ready to take out of the ranch-slider and down the slope to the removal lorry on Saturday. They had worked hard and she was quite ready to go. The trouble was that it was only Tuesday and they hadn’t left her a single plate or cup, or any items of clothing.
Hana resolved to say nothing, just to look incredibly grateful. She successfully kept her criticism to herself. “You guys are amazing,” she crooned, fondling the cardboard edge of an open box and ignoring the rubbish bin nestled in with her china.
Boris left in a hail of toast crumbs and a greasy kiss on the cheek, leaving Bodie still stumbling around. Marcus was comatose. Hana stood in the kitchen and thought about the last few days. She turned her hand over so it was palm up and lifted the dressing so she could peek under. “Gross!” She wrinkled her nose. If she had stitched like that at school she would have been scolded, but the doctor did individual stitches with enormous knots and little twiddly bits which stuck up jauntily out of the wound, two for each stitch. Thankfully the wound itself looked reasonably clean and dry if a little red, which accounted for the soreness. Her neck was a mess, her wrist was sore but only when she moved it and contorting herself in Logan’s bathroom had revealed nasty bruises on her back where she was forced back against the stairs so hard.