by Bowes, K T
Hana crinkled her brow and ploughed her face unhappily back into the pillow. “Nothing, just tired.” No way was she going to ruin a lovely day by throwing Caroline Marsh’s name into the airwaves, “Your mum was crying about Barry, I think she misses him at times like this. She thought Bodie looked like him; maybe that’s what set her off.”
Logan pulled a face and looked thoughtful. “Barry was nothing like Bodie, he was real skinny - the only one with brown eyes and mousey hair, he was a real whitey. The rest of us are all dark with the Du Rose weird grey eyes.”
Hana looked round as Logan stopped talking to find his face inches away, pulling a googley eyed face and making her squeak in surprise. “No!” she squealed. He tickled her and she giggled, enjoying rough-housing with him and the feeling of closeness. With every moment as Mrs Du Rose, Hana sensed the gnawing loneliness drain slowly away and a long buried sense of companionship raise its head. She dared to believe she might be able to be happy again, only this time she was ready to fight for it. She was going to live every moment with as much enjoyment as was humanly possible. Only God knew the moment when it could all be stripped away.
Logan’s lips were soft and searching as his hands moved over Hana’s body persuasively. She became distracted from thoughts about dead husbands, brothers or vitriolic ex-girlfriends, succumbing to the rising pressure in her chest which urged her to let go of everything belonging to the past. Logan’s brand of lovemaking was slow, passionate and insistent, waking Hana’s sleeping sexuality and making her feel alive for the first time in years. “I love you.” His breath moved Hana’s fringe as Logan’s tongue sought hers. He didn’t give her time to answer as he poured his love into her soul, regenerating lost sensations.
Hana woke in the dawn hours of Sunday, aware something troubled her but unsure what it was. The room was cold and she turned on her side and snuggled down into the covers. Logan’s arm was under her head and she wriggled away, aware of the ache beginning in her neck. She pulled his arm gently down so she could hold his warm hand in hers and enjoy the novelty of having a man in her bed. Logan disturbed slightly and his breathing changed but he clamped his fingers securely around Hana’s with no intention of letting her go. Laying on his back, Hana heard the beginnings of a snore and smiled. Once, a long time ago she read a caption somewhere. ‘When your husband’s snoring gets you down, ask a newly widowed woman how she would feel if she could hear her husband snore one more time.’
Hana had thought the caption crass and tasteless, until her own tragedy caused her to be reminded of its poignancy. As she lay there in the darkness listening to Logan’s steady breathing, she prayed she would be able to hear it for many more years to come. She stroked his face gently with her free hand, feeling his stubble scratch the delicate pads of her fingers. Her hand edged slowly upwards wanting to touch the silken strands of his wavy hair. In the darkness, Hana overestimated and poked him squarely in the eye. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
Logan sat up with a start, pushing at Hana’s arm furiously. He wound up standing by the ensuite door, rubbing his eye. “What the hell?”
Hana was mortified and rushed over to apologise again, trying to put her arms around him, but Logan was sleepy and annoyed and turned away from her. “Far out!” he exclaimed, still rubbing at his eye. He stumbled into the ensuite, turned the light on and ran cold water into his hand to bathe it. Standing over the sink he leaned forward, his boxer shorts riding low on his hips. As Hana hovered on the threshold, she saw a long scar snake down the right hand side of his body. It was red and raised, starting somewhere inside his shorts below his right hip and running upwards to just underneath his armpit. It looked jagged, the skin torn and ripped rather than cut. As Logan put his arm down and stopped peering at his eye in the mirror it was gone, hidden beneath his arm. Hana kept her curiosity in check, allowing disgrace to win through. She had felt the ridged skin and wondered but never yet seen it. Logan kept his torso covered and if he felt her staring, seemed uncomfortable despite his demi god looks.
Hana saw Logan’s eyes flick to her face in the mirror and tried to avert her gaze from his scar, but it was too late. He saw. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I was trying to touch you gently. I didn’t mean to permanently maim you."
When Logan still seemed stroppy, Hana got cross and became defensive. “You woke me up with your snoring, actually.” Instantly she was angry with herself as he looked so sorry.
“Oh. I didn’t know I snored.” Logan bit his lip and looked disappointed.
They climbed back into bed but the distance between them although only centimetres, seemed much more and Hana snuggled down but couldn’t sleep. She lay there for a while, jiggling around to get comfortable whilst coming to the conclusion sleep was no longer at hand. She heard rain pattering on the window outside as it grew steadily lighter. It was a long time since she slept next to anyone else. Hana felt disadvantaged and seemed to have forgotten all the unspoken protocols. Like, was it ok to wake Logan and tell him it was raining? She quickly decided no. Having poked him in the eye after less than forty-eight hours of marriage, the poor man was probably scared that in thirty years’ time he would graduate to a knife in the back.
Hana listened to Logan’s shallow breathing which seemed incredibly slow. She tuned into it and wondered if the rhythmic sound might help her sleep. Focussing on it made her feel calmer and more settled, until quite by chance she noticed occasionally his breathing stopped altogether. Growing anxious, Hana started counting the breaths, but there seemed no pattern to the breathless periods. Hana sat up slightly, leaning on one elbow and trying to peer over Logan’s shoulder as he lay with his back toward her. As his breathing stopped again for a longer period of time, Hana panicked and prodded her husband sharply in the back. He exhaled loudly and sat bolt upright in bed. “What are you trying to do to me?” he exclaimed, “It’s like being in bed with a ninja!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” whined Hana for the second time that night. “But you fell asleep and stopped breathing!”
“I wasn’t asleep, woman! I was wide awake and trying not to snore!” Logan rubbed his eye again, “I need danger money to go to bed with you!”
“Thanks,” said Hana soberly, “sorry.”
They settled down again but sleep evaded Hana for good. Sleeplessness took her unwillingly to the first time she ever saw Logan Du Rose.
She sat on the Circle Line tube train in the depths of the London Underground, a pregnant teenager sitting next to the reluctant father. A nasty cut from a fist graced her companion’s dark eyebrow and lip, oozing slowly throughout the short trip. Hana felt the knot in her chest and the tears on her cheeks as though she was there. The woman in the seats opposite reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief, handing it to the girl wordlessly. Miriam’s startling grey eyes glittered in her olive face. The teenage boy sitting next to his mother caught Hana’s eye and stared and stared and stared down through the years at his soul mate.
As Logan’s fourteen year old eyes bore into Hana’s, he smiled that lazy smile of his and she knew for the first time in ages; everything would be all right.
In the present, Logan turned over and wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling his wife firmly into him. And Hana relinquished her tight grasp on their momentarily combined past and determined to concentrate on her future.
They woke up late to the rain beating hard on the side of the building and spurting in rivulets down the windows. Hana opened her eyes slowly, surprised by the sight of her nightdress draped over the headboard. She peeped over Logan’s sleeping frame. He lay on his side facing away from her and Hana was snuggled up tightly into his long back. She reached above her head quietly and tugged at the corner of the silky material, keeping one eye on the back of Logan’s head. The nightdress slithered down, landing over her face and cascading dust particles down with it that made her stifle a sneeze.
Hana slid as gently as she could out of bed backwards and slipped into her night
ie. Needing the toilet she moved towards the ensuite, trying hard not to wake her husband. “Ow!” She let out a yelp of pain as she tripped noisily over Logan’s boxer shorts caught around the leg of the bed and then found his black dress shoes sitting in the middle of the floor. It was the dress shoes that did it and Hana plunged to the ground, grappling hopelessly at the duvet as she went. Logan sat up in bed, completely naked and looked around him in bewilderment.
Hana popped up from the floor, the duvet gathered up in her arms and her pride long gone. She plonked the swags of material guiltily on the bed, fluffing it back around her poor husband who leaned back on one arm and used the other to run his hand through his hair. “Hana, why is your nightdress on inside out?”
Hana Du Rose
Chapter 3
They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs along with some of the family stragglers from the party. Logan’s brother, Michael and his austere sister, Liza, stayed over. Michael was easy company with a dry sense of humour and an over-eagerness to please and Hana found his stories of their childhood entertaining and funny, despite knowing some of his tales were heavily edited for the telling. Michael’s dark looks were similar to Logan’s although his body shape was stouter. He was still eye catching, his natural flirtatiousness and confidence providing a magnetic personality. But there was an air of arrogance about the man which made her feel ill at ease under the glare of his snobbery and he seemed to want to rival Logan for her attention. “Wouldn’t you get paid more if you were a qualified teacher?” Michael asked, biting down on his toast like a hungry bear.
“Probably.” Hana didn’t wish to be drawn into a conversation with the potential to go downhill.
“Didn’t you go to uni or anything?”
“Yes. I have an English Honours degree.”
“So you could still do it.”
“But I don’t want to. I have no desire to teach.” Hana felt the colour rising in her neck, overheating her from the inside. Battling it would only make it worse. She tried to keep her voice level. “What’s the big deal about teaching?”
“Just seems a bit dumb is all. Working in an office for peanuts when you could be earning more.”
“I’ve done just fine, thank you. I like my job and I’m financially very solvent. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, you will now!” Liza’s barbed comment was said under her breath but loud enough for Hana to hear. The pecking festival left Hana feeling breathless and disconcerted. She gulped and looked at Logan’s back as he filled a tea pot at the counter and narrowly avoided the paid staff who ran around like bees behind him. Her saviour was busy and Michael opened his mouth to start again.
“Shut it!” Logan’s command carried across the large kitchen, momentarily stunning the staff. A woman with a laden tray widened her eyes and stopped in her tracks, scurrying on when she realised he didn’t mean her. Logan kept his back to the table but when he swung round, his eyes were dark and his teeth were gritted. “Quit cross examining my wife. Or get out.”
Hana gaped slightly as nobody challenged him. Miriam placed toast into holders with careful hands and let her youngest child rule the roost. She glanced at Logan’s siblings in astonishment. Michael went back to his toast and Liza slurped coffee next to him without comment. Logan placed the tea pot in the middle of the table and sat on the left of Hana, stretching his long legs out in front of her and resting his bare toes on the beam between the stout table legs. He turned his body in towards Hana as though shielding her and she shot him a look of gratitude. The atmosphere plummeted towards freezing point.
Liza remained untalkative; tall, slender and intimidating still, even in jeans and a sweater. Hana felt like she was being continually observed across the kitchen table by an eagle, which circled before plunging down onto its prey with talons and hooked open beak. Liza made Hana feel self-conscious and strangely inadequate and it was easy to see how she became successful in the law courts. The woman treated her mother with painful disdain, taking her plate of food as though Miriam was the hired help. “Oh,” she said, turning her nose up ungratefully, “I didn’t want an egg.”
The boys thanked their mother graciously. Michael half stood to give her a kiss on the cheek which Miriam brushed away with evident pleasure. “Go away you fool,” she giggled.
“But Ma you’re so sexy,” Michael flirted and Hana felt confused by his ability to switch faces so easily. The younger wait staff buzzed past shooting looks at Logan and Michael. Logan ignored them but Michael was constantly tuned in to their appreciation, promising assignations with his sultry grey eyes.
Logan ate with absorption, enjoying his food. Hana blushed, thinking about how he’d worked up his appetite. She watched him smile at Michael’s fantasies about their wild and free childhood as he sat with the toes of his bare foot resting gently and comfortably against Hana’s under the table. He once told her he and Michael were close as children but there was a distance there as she watched them, as though the relationship had been fractured. Logan’s smile seemed wary and when Michael winked at one of the teenage waitresses, a flash of anger crossed his face and he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t!” he said to his brother and Michael laughed out loud, putting two fingers up to him in a childish display of defiance.
Hana wished the meal over, unable to eat in the tension. Instead she focussed on her new husband. Watching his slender fingers wielding cutlery made her quite hot and bothered, the veins and tendons disappearing into his shirt cuff on strong hands and dark, hairy wrists. Hana tried not to follow their line with her eyes, knowing the capable muscular frame hiding beneath the expensive cloth and what he could use those hands for. His meal over, Logan took his plate over to the dishwasher and loaded it in, returning to sit with his arm casually around Hana’s shoulders. Her heart sank as he settled down, wishing for the safety of the bedroom and the promise of more intimacy. She rubbed her bare toes enticingly across his and felt him stir and look at her, his lips rising sensuously in one corner. Hana smiled at him from underneath her lashes and he winked in return.
Liza studied the couple through hooded lids as though the sight disturbed her greatly and heaved out an exaggerated sigh. Logan ignored her as he ran his hand along the outside seam of Hana’s jeans, waking up the nerves in her thigh and leaning in for a kiss.
They all heard a car draw up outside, travelling a little quickly for the driveway’s deep gravel covering. Logan sat up and looked towards his mother. “Trouble?”
The slam of a car door and scrunch of footsteps followed. Miriam stood up on tiptoe at the sink and peeped out through the long sash window, blanching as she recognised the arrival. Turning into the room, she sought out Logan with her eyes and gave him a look of helplessness. It seemed as though a silent transmission was made and received and suddenly Logan was gone, out through the heavy door and into the corridor. He moved so quickly he left a cool belt of air in his place and Hana’s chest tightened. She heard his bare feet jogging quickly down the tiled floor and the bang of the ornate front doors as he went through. Looking at Miriam’s face, she felt the other woman’s concern radiating into the room. She started to get up from the table, shoving her chair backwards with her knees only to find Michael’s hand around her wrist. His fingers were tight and uncompromising. His grey eyes flashed with veiled warning. “Leave it,” he said pleasantly. The steel behind his smile only hardened Hana’s resolve.
Snatching her hand away, she took him by surprise and was gone before he could stop her. Hana was down the corridor in a second, following the sound of a raised and hysterical voice coming from outside.
“She’s gone, she’s gone!” wailed the speaker and Hana saw Tama standing on the driveway at the bottom of the steps. Logan leaned with his backside on the old car next to them, unconcerned his bare feet rested on the sharp gravel. He looked calm and made no attempt to quiet the teenager, despite the strange sideways looks from a couple pulling a suitcase up the front steps. Hana smiled lamely and moved out of thei
r way on the uppermost step.
Hana knew instantly what had happened. Anka left him. Her heart sank into her gut with sadness. It was all for nothing. Her colleague and best friend detonated her life spectacularly over her affair with the eighteen year old student and Anka’s friendship with Hana was collateral damage too. For what? It was over and she had torched every single bridge back to her former life; marriage, job, family and friendship. Hana stood in the wide doorway while the wind lifted her hair from her shoulders and tossed it around behind her. A wave of bitterness made her want to gather up the pea sized gravel and throw handfuls into the air in temper. All for nothing; except maybe some great sex with a teenager. Pointless waste.
The family resemblance between the two men was striking at close quarters. Angry grey eyes flashed from both male faces, their similar builds making it an even match despite the age gap of more than two decades. Logan’s body language was taut, his muscles flexing in readiness for trouble, but his voice was calm and reasonable as he tried to talk to the boy. “Come for coffee with me in the office. We can talk about it.”
Hana stood stock still on the landing outside the front door, observing the situation but reluctant to intervene. He’s still a child, he’s still a child, she reminded herself as hatred boiled inside her for this young man who slipped into her friend’s life like a cuckoo and detonated it from the inside. Suddenly Tama spotted her and lunged towards the stairs, erupting into shouts. “Where is she? You know where she is…you have to tell me!”
Logan intercepted him at the bottom step, slipping on the gravel in his bare feet, his grip on Tama’s sleeve vice-like, halting him on the spot. “No!” Logan spun him around, leading him away from the steps. “You stay away from my wife!”
Hana realised too late she had inflamed the situation. She told her feet to move and take her inside but they refused, leaving her standing on the smooth, flat concrete, watching the awful scene unfold.