by Bowes, K T
Hana had looked momentarily confused, certain the brand originated from Japan, but Marcus turned away sniggering and she smiled graciously and thanked the passer-by. The rug was still too long and had been transported sticking out of the rear window, which blessedly opened separately to the door of the boot. Marcus had wrestled with it on the driveway while Bodie, who had vacuumed the house and hosed out the whole of the garage and annex room, sat on the handrail of the veranda and hurled semi helpful suggestions about where Marcus might like to stick it. Until Hana clipped him around the back of the head. “Pack it in. Go and do something useful!”
Then it was Marcus’ turn to look smug, waiting until Hana went back inside before singing in a baby voice, “Your mummy told you off.”
Hana was pleased with her purchases which included some strong bleach for the kitchen and bathroom and some horrid thick bacteria laden syrup for putting down the toilet afterwards to help the septic tank. Surprisingly they also found a new toilet seat in the rug shop, which turned out to be quite an Aladdin’s cave of goodies and Hana chose a rimu one, to match the floor. Marcus and Bodie bickered over who was going to fit it, until Hana assured them she was going to clean first.
“You need gates,” Bodie interjected into the comfortable post-lunch silence, “automatic ones.”
“Na,” answered Hana, “they cost a fortune. You’d have to run the electrics all the way to the bottom of the drive.”
“Put them at the top...” continued Bodie but Hana didn’t allow him to finish.
“What about when people call and I’m out? They would have reverse all the way to the bottom and then try to get out onto that hundred-kilometre road backwards! It would be crazy.”
“Tough,” came Bodie’s arrogant reply, “they should text first.”
Hana wasn’t about to lose the point. “What if the pastor calls round to visit and I’m not here?” She looked appealingly at Marcus. He was no help whatsoever, merely pointing out that clergymen were great at backtracking and then winking at Bodie who laughed. Bodie looked serious and then surprised them both. “Ok, have them at the bottom then. I’ll get the fencer to dig out a turning circle and gravel it. I’ll tell the electrician to change the plan.”
Hana was speechless and Marcus left his mouth hanging open, which was unfortunate as he was half way through a mouthful. “I can’t afford that,” began Hana, but was quickly interrupted by her determined son.
“It’s ok, Marcus is paying.” He watched his brother-in-law turn uncomfortably pale, trying to swallow without choking. “Just kidding,” he continued after enjoying Marcus’ discomfort a moment longer. “I’m sorting it out. I don’t need everything Dad left me. I know you dissolved the family trust for Izzie and me recently, but I want to do this. I would feel happier. You’re so isolated up here. Dad would expect me to take care of you.”
Hana felt suddenly sad. Vik would have expected that, it was true. Pity he hadn’t stuck around to do it himself. No, she told herself, that’s not fair, and so she thanked her son for his thoughtful generosity. Bodie had clearly given the matter a lot of thought. The gates he had ordered would be navy blue, wrought iron slatted with spiked filigree decorations on the top. He didn’t tell her they were slatted so they would be hard to climb over, or that the spikes at the top were purposeful as much as decorative. If anyone was brave enough to climb the land either side of the driveway, with its dense bush and covering of nasty Supplejack vine, best of luck to them. From any other angle, they would be seen if they came across the farmland either side, or from the bush at the back. It would be a heck of a hike too.
The afternoon continued in a haze of scrubbing in the bathroom until the bleach took hold and the bath, sink and toilet looked decent enough. The new seat was poor Marcus’s job, but Bodie had to finish it as the other man’s skills were of a different kind. A pastor reduced to swearing in Dutch is apparently a dreadful thing. As teatime came, Hana grew listless and it occurred to Bodie she had no intention of going either back to Achilles Rise, or to Gordonton. He tried to reason with her, but she seemed resolute. “I’m staying here. This is my home now,” she stated, gritting her teeth and folding her arms.
An hour later, as he chased Tiger around the garden at Achilles Rise with Marcus giggling helplessly from the ranch-slider in the cluttered family room, Bodie cursed the independent nature of the women in his family. For the tenth time, the cat shot tantalisingly out of reach and onto the roof. “You’re supposed to be getting the cat cage ready,” he shouted to Marcus but Bodie heard him behind the curtains, practically barfing up his afternoon tea, he laughed so hard. Bodie gave up and stomped over to the door, only to find Marcus had also locked him out and struggled not to wet himself as well. Bodie mouthed something at him through the glass, but Marcus didn’t hear him. Hana’s neighbours did though, wondering how a vicar and a policeman got to be so entertaining.
It was obvious the men brought out the worst in each other and it was exactly the same at school until Marcus started dating Izzie, resulting in a minor rift as Bodie tried to get over his disgust at the idea. By the time the wedding day arrived, all was well, but right then, he wanted to break the door down and smack the snot out of his friend. “Open this door! I am so gonna kill you!”
The sound of the mended doorbell froze them both and the subsequent knocking on the front door did nothing to ease the tension. Darkness crept over the suburb and Bodie sensed impending danger. He cursed as Marcus, instead of letting him in, clambered through the furniture stacked in the room and out into the hallway to open the front door.
Bodie jumped over the small wall by the window and ran down the slope to the locked back gate. He clambered over the trellis, getting wrapped in the passion fruit vine that twisted and turned under his hands and feet. He had last climbed this particular fence a number of years ago when he had been more lithe and youthful and the wind was almost knocked out of him as he landed awkwardly on the downward slope on the other side of the gate. Round the front of the garage door, he piled up the front steps, having leapt over the lower half of the handrail to gain ground more quickly. At the top of the steps, he discovered Marcus in the process of letting Logan in the door.
Bodie followed him in, glaring at Marcus, before leaning forward and resting his palms on his knees to get his breath back. Logan looked surprised as he stared backwards from his position halfway up the stairs to the hall. “You been out for a run?”
Chapter 42
In the absence of furniture, the three men leaned against the bench top in the kitchen. They chatted loosely like men do about irrelevant issues, before Logan plucked up the courage to say something on his mind. “I didn’t realise who you were when you brought the truck back.” He looked at Bodie and a sense of guilt mixed with relief passed across his handsome face.
Bodie smiled, having realised as much at the look on Logan’s face when he and Marcus appeared at the Gordonton house a few nights before. Their initial contact was frosty and hostile. Logan reached out and offered his hand in a gesture of friendship and Bodie generously grasped it.
Marcus gave a huge sigh, prompting Bodie to ask, “What’s up bro?”
“Hungry. Tired,” was the reply and Marcus sank down onto the floor to make himself more comfortable.
“Look,” said Logan, “it’s getting dark and I’m presuming Hana’s up there on her own?”
Bodie looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, we came down for some stuff and for the stupid cat; we should be getting back now.”
He moved around collecting things together, but Logan stopped him. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
Half an hour later, Logan headed north to Ngaruawahia with a couple of sleeping bags and some useful sleeping mats which Bodie retrieved from a box near the back of the garage. The other two gratefully relinquished responsibility for Hana for the night, as Bodie wanted to continue searching the property. Packing boxes in the peace of last night, he combed the place thoroughly but found nothing. He intended to
use the night to look again.
Bodie liked Logan although it felt bizarre accepting that his mother might have a boyfriend. Nevertheless, he was sure Hana would be perfectly safe with him at the new place. He certainly seemed sincere. The original plan was for Pete to go up with Logan, but the plan failed when Logan rang the Gordonton house from his mobile on the way up there and Pete complained violently. “It’s Henri’s last night before she goes to the South Island,” he sulked. “She’s cooking me my favourite dinner.”
Bodie had already texted Hana to tell her someone would be up shortly and not to open the door until she saw who it was, but Logan doubted she would be expecting him. As he turned into the driveway and began the steep climb up in the truck which growled and wheezed with the effort, he steeled himself for a difficult greeting.
Hana was tired and slightly overwrought when a sharp knock sounded on the door. The bulb in the outside light had either blown, or the electrics weren’t working and Hana kept the internal lights out so she could squint through the glass. She was not impressed when she saw Logan standing on the porch with a bundle of something. It had grown cold as night arrived and he shivered as he waited for her to open up. Wordlessly, she turned the key and opened the creaking door so he could come in. With him, came a blast of cold air which had a hint of Antarctica, making it something of a battle to close the door after him.
Logan laid the bundle down in the hall and stood up, looking around. “Wow,” he said, looking at the pristine floor and the walls stripped ready for decorating. “This looks awesome!” He smiled at her with genuine admiration and Hana found it hard not to smile back, correcting herself as she remembered his sharp admonition the night before. A little voice in her head reminded her that when she bought the house, Logan promised to help her. He bit his lip as he looked around and she felt victorious at the discomfort he felt. He hadn’t forgotten.
Hana had been busy in the time since the boys left. She scrubbed and bleached out the old kitchen cupboards, lining them with some cheap wallpaper off-cuts she scored for next to nothing in the hardware shop in Huntly. The surfaces gleamed and the cupboard fronts were lightly sanded in preparation for painting, once her hand was completely better. The sanding was something of a job and required the yellow rubber glove over her stitches again. It stopped the wound getting dirty, but hadn’t prevented it sweating and stinging. Hana pressed on regardless, lightly sanding and then washing down with turpentine, twenty-three cupboard doors.
The trouble was the kitchen floor needed vacuuming again and she also ended up having to crawl around on her hands and knees with a rag and some more turps as the vacuum failed to clear up all the dust. It was spotless now and Hana’s nightmare couple of hours was not reflected in the cleanliness of the room. Having grabbed the kettle and toaster from Achilles Rise earlier that morning, Hana was able to flick the switch and make some tea. She had bought some china cups from the hardware shop, white with bright red strawberries and they looked cheerful against the darkness of the scene outside and the black tension inside. She made herself a tea, but remembered to make Logan coffee, which she handed to him handle first. Her hand and wrist had become much more mobile in the last twenty four hours, mainly through her determination to ignore their hindrance and get on with the business of moving house.
“Thanks.” Logan accepted the coffee and leaned back against the worktop, looking at Hana intently as he sipped the hot liquid. In the absence of a fridge, Hana sat the milk on the cold windowsill. The awkward moment lasted and lasted as neither of them attempted to be the first to speak. Hana found she drank her tea far too fast in her bloody-mindedness and burnt her mouth. Eventually, she stopped her hasty supping and stared into the mug, twisting it round and round and noticing how a fleck in the water stayed still in front of her, even though the liquid twisted with the cup.
Logan cleared his throat suddenly and Hana jumped, causing the brown liquid to shoot upwards and splash onto the clean floor. Logan was instantly sorry, putting his mug down on the side and striding over to her. He took her mug out of her hand, put his arms around her firmly and held her for a long time, stroking her hair and holding her tightly. “Sorry,” he whispered into her hair, “You’re bound to be jumpy.”
Hana nestled into his chest, allowing him to believe she was still scared but knowing her fake would have to end soon. She wished she hated him more and tried to without success.
The chimney in the living room had been checked by the builder and deemed safe, so Logan went out to the back of the property to fetch the logs he knew were drying out under a makeshift woodshed against the back of the garage wall. There were bundles of sticks that would serve as kindling and a newspaper. As Logan kneeled in front of the fireplace attempting to light a fire and generate some warmth, Hana obstructed him unintentionally by reading the paper as she handed him the sheets to screw up.
“There’s a Zumba class in the community hall at Huntly,” she commented absently as she handed Logan the sheet slowly, so she could read an advertisement for heat pumps on the back of that page. Logan sighed loudly and held his hand out for the paper, waiting while she finished reading it and then scrunching it up grumpily. It seemed to take ages for the paper to catch and light the sticks instead of burning itself out after a tantalising show of temporary heat.
Finally, the sticks crackled and burned, giving off a generous glow and the pair sat in front of it and held their breath, hoping and praying the logs on top would also catch and give out some real heat. Hana pulled her sleeping mat close to the fire and got into her bag, huddling down into its downy softness. Logan shook his head at her and seizing the far edge of the mat, pulled her further away from the fire like a child. “If that gets going, it might spark and burn the bag. It’s too dangerous.”
Hana pouted even though she saw the sense of what he said. “How can it be this cold for April?” she asked, “It’s crazy.”
“Dunno,” replied her companion. “Want another drink before I get into my sleeping bag?”
Hana replied, “No thanks,” and lay down as she began to warm up. Still dressed in her track pants and tee shirt, she smelled the bleach that splashed onto her clothes and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Not for the first time that evening, she wished she could have had any of the lovely warm jumpers which were now packed into boxes in the garage at Achilles Rise. She was sorry Tiger hadn’t been with Logan, but maybe it was better he came to his new home in daylight. Hana was growing worried about his move. Hakarimata Road was a fast and treacherous route and she had already spotted a couple of dead possums and somebody’s pet cat, victims to the speed of passing vehicles. She shivered at the dreadful thought and Logan got into his bag and lay down next to her after making sure the house was securely locked, shutting the living room door to keep out the draught and retain the heat from the fire.
Hana felt comforted by his presence, not just because it made her feel safer, but because Logan acted as an unintentional draught excluder, helping her to maximise the heat which reached her from the healthy fire. He lay without touching her, but she heard him breathing and snuffling around behind. The spectre of Caroline rose up, but Hana was too scared to mention her after Logan’s reaction the day before. It was there, hanging over them like a waiting disaster, stealing the peace and warmth from the room.
Recognising the change in Logan’s breathing, Hana knew he was asleep. Eventually, she drifted off also, waking up a few hours later to hear him putting another log onto the fire. The floorboards around her creaked as he got back into his sleeping bag and she turned on her side, leaning up on her elbow. Her voice was sleepy and unguarded. “Did you mean everything you said to me when we were up at your parent’s place?” she asked, from out of the darkness. His reply was a while coming as he searched for the right words and she thought maybe he wasn’t going to say anything. She hated how he did that; considered everything he said. Unlike her, who blurted at will. She dozed lightly when she heard him turn towards her, his sleep
ing bag rustling softly as he moved on the rubber mat.
“I meant everything I said then. I still feel the same way.” He paused a moment. “What the hell happened?”
Hana lay on her side and shook her head. The memory of the unexpectedly touching scene in the car park made her feel sick, bile inflicting a spiteful bite to the chest. Caroline’s smug attitude and the text message were like the icing on the cake. “Caroline happened,” she told him, her anger evident even in the darkness. “I saw you and her together in the car park and then you went off with her. You looked cosy and I figured we were over. I just thought it was a pity you didn’t bother telling me yourself. I believed better of you!” Hana heard Logan sigh quietly in the darkness. “I also saw the text you sent her, saying what fun you’d both had and how you’d love to do it again. So good luck with all that and thanks for a few nice weeks, although I really could have lived without the extra stress under the circumstances.”
“Oh.” Logan shifted around next to her and she cringed at herself for letting him know she was wounded. It felt like she handed victory over to him and it galled her. Hana felt hot in the sleeping bag as anger and embarrassment pricked her.
“I can see how it must have looked,” Logan conceded, “I get it now.”
Hana lay still, inordinately cross at herself. She shifted around trying to settle. No sound came from Logan, but then he spoke, “I should have talked to you before now; I didn’t know what to say, I guess. Just let me explain, please?”
Hana’s heart plummeted. This was it, the moment of revelation. He was about to finish whatever they foolishly started and then she would have to go to sleep next to him for the rest of the night in abject awkwardness. She wondered momentarily about making him sleep in one of the other rooms, but knew it would be a childish thing to do. The rest of the house was freezing and he made the fire after all. What on earth possessed her to start talking? When would she learn to keep her stupid mouth shut?