by Bowes, K T
“Leave it up,” Logan said and Hana shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. I know you hate mess and if I leave it on the table, I’ll feel like I have to finish the whole thing in a week, even when I don’t have the energy.”
As Hana flipped the switch on the kettle again, her mobile phone started to vibrate and dance around the work surface. Hana picked it up and peered at the number as it rang insistently. She didn’t recognise it and as Logan walked into the kitchen, she thrust the phone at him, filled with an irrational fear of it. He took it quickly after almost dropping it, answering carefully without saying much more than a grunt. He handed the phone back to Hana. “It’s fine, Hana. Take it. It’s Pete.”
Even before she got the phone up to her ear, she heard his nasal wailing. “Where’s that thing you do? I can’t find it, I need it!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The thing! The thing! So I can pay for the drilling parts!”
A light went on in Hana’s eyes. “Oh, is George from the tech department there?” she asked an hysterical Pete, who didn’t answer, but handed the phone over.
“What the hell’s going on?” came the gentle voice of the teacher who taught woodwork at the school for over thirty years.
“What do you need?” asked Hana politely, avoiding the question best she could.
“I got approval for the bench drill in my budget proposal for this year,” began the teacher, frustration in his voice, “so I purchased it and you and Sheila said it was fine. It was going to be paid for out of the careers budget. Now I bring the invoice into this idiot…” Hana heard Pete start to whine again in the background, “…and he won’t sign it for me.”
“Right,” said Hana slowly, “I do remember and I have allowed for it. Put Pete back on and I’ll get him to sign for payment. It’ll be ok.”
Pete came back onto the line, still grumbling.
“Shut up, Pete and listen to me,” began Hana.
The conversation was so long her mobile almost ran out of battery. Her right ear hurt afterwards. “That man!” she complained to Logan. “Pete was willing enough to take responsibility for the department and take the management point and increased pay packet, but he apparently didn’t realise what it entailed!”
Logan laughed and gripped his stomach with a pained look on his face. “Oh please, stop!”
Peter North had taken up residence in Sheila’s office, thinking it might be a neat place to nap, only to find it was a hive of activity. The ‘thing’ he needed, turned out to be the budget spreadsheet showing what each department had left of their allocation. Hana started to explain where the spreadsheet was housed on the server in a shared area, giving up after a very short time. “Do you know what?” Hana grumbled. “I knew I was wasting my time when he asked me how to turn my computer on.”
“Please don’t make me laugh again,” Logan begged, rubbing his hand across his muscular chest. Hana eyed the dusting of hair covetously and lost her train of thought.
“Pardon?”
“What did you tell him to do with it?”
“Ooh don’t tempt me,” Hana said bitingly, regretting it as Logan doubled over in pain. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, rubbing his back. “I told him to sign whatever was put in front of him and I’d clear up the mess after. He whined about why I’m off work and I told him you’d been sick and in hospital.”
“No, no, no. Please tell me you didn’t?” Logan shook his head furiously, but it was too late. The sentence was out.
“Well, he did ask for details but I didn’t give him any. I just clammed up and asked him not to tell anyone else. One thing though, before he rang off, he said Mrs Bowman was asking about me. Actually he mentioned Mrs Bowman was asking about me once a day, or more.”
“Oh, crap!” Logan groaned.
“I told him, not to tell her anything! I pleaded with him and told him it’s crucial.”
“Geez Hana!”
“It’s ok. He agreed.”
“Yeah but what was the condition?” Logan asked wisely and Hana cringed.
“Nothing I can’t deal with by myself.”
Pete agreed, but only on condition he could ring Hana whenever he needed to and she would use her remote login to sort out the budget spreadsheet, as the invoices came in. She didn’t like to tell her husband in the seconds before Hana rang off, she heard Pete do one of his ugly cackles. “Guess what? I’m gonna tell Mrs Bowman Logan’s had a vasectomy, seeing as you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Logan returned from the bathroom and found Hana switching on her computer. She felt stressed and was glad of his strong arms encircling her as she leaned over the keyboard. “Just leave it!” he instructed her, pulling her up towards him, her hands firmly gripped in his.
“I can’t,” she began, “Pete’s going to tell everyone…well, that,” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Logan smirked.
“Whatever,” he said, encircling her so she couldn’t get away. “Like at school when he told everyone at the school social I caught diarrhoea, or the time I banged my head and needed stitches and he told them I’d had my brain removed, or could it be the vasectomy or the full castration, or maybe he’s actually thought of something different in recent years. Hana don’t worry about it!”
Hana smiled with her face pressed into Logan’s dressing gown. Apparently Pete’s threat held no fear for her husband, who added, “You should have told him I’d break his legs if he repeated anything. He knows I would!”
The certainty in his claim made Hana momentarily uneasy, but she brushed it away. Logan refused to let her stress about work, closing the laptop down and leading her into the kitchen to get food. Afterwards, they went into their lovely living room to enjoy an evening of watching television with a good reception, cuddling up in their newly decorated space with a roaring fire and a feeling of pure contentment.
Hana breathed in the peace and wished life would stand still and she and her husband could be frozen in time, just the way they were.
Hana Du Rose
Chapter 12
The next day was Saturday and neither Logan nor Hana woke up before nine o’clock, which was unusual. Not so strange for Logan, who was heavily drugged at night with his painkillers, but definitely for Hana who rarely slept beyond seven. Bizarrely, it was the spare phone Bodie gave Logan which woke them both, vibrating off the bedside table and onto the floor. Logan hurt himself trying to reach it, groaning and holding his side. “Leave it, I’ll get it,” Hana grunted, running round the bed to retrieve it. “Hello?” she said, rubbing her eyes and hearing only the disconnect tone. “Damn, I missed it.”
“Probably a wrong number,” Logan sighed, gingerly touching his dressing. “Oh crap, this has leaked through again.”
Hana sighed and sat on his side of the bed. “I’ll try and change it if you want.” She eyed the weeping mess nervously. “You don’t think those men have found us, do you?”
“Not through a random phone that’s been in the bottom drawer of a policewoman for over a year. Unlikely.”
Waking up that way caused them both to feel groggy and shaky and Hana was alarmed at how quickly the panic rose in her. It was an old phone and didn’t even record the missed call, let alone the number and Hana staggered first through to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. “It has to be a wrong number,” Logan reassured her, but it shook her up anyway.
Hana stood in front of the boiling kettle, staring distractedly through the kitchen windows and wondering if she had the nerve to try and make a roman blind. She decided not and figured wooden venetian blinds would be more practical, but hardly urgent. As she stared at the bush line, she spotted a moving shape coming down the side of the paddock. It was clad in dark clothing and Hana drew quickly back from the window in alarm. “Quick, someone’s coming. Quick!” She rushed through to the bedroom, calling to Logan.
Logan shifted onto his side and then worked his way into a sitting position, “Who is it?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Hana kept repeating, “you go, you go, please!” With that she was gone and he heard the click of the bathroom door locking as she hid like a child. Logan dragged his dressing gown over his pyjama bottoms, remarking as he went past the locked bathroom door, “Geez Hana, you can’t do this every time someone visits!” Then he responded to the inevitable knock on the front door.
The visitor was a small brown lady with greying hair, bearing a bag of winter vegetables and an enormous smile. It was the aerial man’s elderly mother, from next door. Logan’s dressing gown was open and she indicated the dressing under his rib, clicking her tongue in sympathy. “Hone told me youse was sick.”
Logan invited her into the living room while he went to calm Hana. He knocked on the bathroom door which his wife opened slowly. Her face was streaked with tears and she wielded the back scrubber as a means of self-defence. He gave her a meaningful hug. “It’s the old lady from next door,” he whispered. “She’s sweet. Get dressed while I make her a drink.”
Logan looked in the living room but didn’t find the visitor there. She seemed to have gone. Perplexed, he went into the kitchen and discovered her running a bowl of water into which she put the veggies to wash.
In the end, it was her who made the pot of tea Hana found sitting on the table when she came in. The old lady also peeled and chopped the vegetables for the soup, already simmering on the stove. “Kia ora. Ko Maihi ahau,”she smiled. Her beam was infectious and Hana found herself smiling back. The woman induced confidence and safety with her presence and Hana responded easily to the gushing maternalism.
“Youse both had a bad time, I hear,” she said, adding a taro to the broth on the stove. Hana darted a dark look at Logan and he shrugged. Maihi turned back to their silence with a smirk. “I know most things, kōtiro. I have whanau all over this town and down in Kirikiriroa.”
“Hamilton?” Logan translated the Māori name for Hana and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Impressive, kuia.”
The old lady chuckled. “I have a nephew who’s a cop and a niece who cleans at the big station on Bridge Street. They hear things and tell Aunty.” She patted her chest with work-worn fingers and winked at Logan. Hana smothered a smirk as the old lady played him like a musical instrument. He deferred to the tiny woman with great respect and deference and Hana found it fascinating. But she experienced a strange mix of emotions, ranging through jealousy and confusion as they spoke their native language fluidly and she understood none of it.
“Sorry, kōtiro,” Maihi jumped to her feet and embraced Hana roughly from behind, sensing her awkwardness at her isolation. To Hana’s amazement, she cuffed Logan lightly round the back of the head. “Speak English boy,” she told him. “Or teach your wife Te Reo.”
Logan’s look of hurt and surprise made Hana giggle. He glared at her, resenting the female alliance taking shape before his eyes. “Cup of tea, for you.” Maihi pushed a steaming cup of green water towards Hana and she peered into it. “Kawakawa,” Maihi qualified. “Good for infection and health. If you lay the leaves over a wound, it tells what the ailment is by changing colour.”
“Does it?” Hana’s interest piqued. “It actually changes colour?”
“Yes!” Maihi’s head bobbled on her shoulders with enthusiasm. “It turns many colours, including white. It can tell youse what’s wrong.”
Hana glanced sideways at Logan and he confirmed the fact with a nod. She smiled with the pleasure of one learning hidden facts about her surroundings, satisfaction pinking her high cheekbones and lighting her eyes. “That’s awesome,” she breathed, peering into the hot tea with new interest.
And so, Maihi slipped into their lives, found a space and made herself at home. It was admirable really and a skill not many people convincingly possessed. Maihi honed it to perfection. As Hana sipped her tea feeling slightly bewildered, Maihi indicated the pan with the boiling vegetables with a flick of her head. “Veggies,” she stated, as though Hana might not know what they were, “from the Saturday market down town. You should get all your stuff there. It’s good value. Meet all your friends, have breakfast and do your veggie shopping. Perfect.”
She squeezed her wrinkled face up into the cutest smile and Hana found herself smiling back, noticing Maihi had teeth missing at the front. “It’s so kind of you,” she responded genuinely, “you didn’t have to do that. And we didn’t know about the market either.”
“I came last week,” said Maihi, “just to be neighbourly. But I was driving and the gates were there. I didn’t expect those.” She turned to Logan, “Youse need a turning circle at the bottom bro’ – it’s hard for us old folks to turn around when nobody answers.”
Logan nodded. “Hana’s son got the fencer to dig out a circle, but we need to gravel it still.”
To Hana’s surprise, Maihi patted his hand knowingly and the fact he let her, was even more surprising. Hana tried hard not to feel like an outsider in their little Māori world full of mystery and lyrical speech she could not follow. Maihi jumped up abruptly, slipping her coat around her shoulders and moving over to the stove to poke and prod the vegetables with a knife. She turned around beaming and then pointing at Hana, commanded her, “Not long now. Make sure youse watch it girl, so it doesn’t catch on the pan.” Then she turned to Logan, “You can show me round now, tāne.”
Like a meek little lamb, Hana’s formidable husband led his new friend around the villa and Hana heard her exclamations of enjoyment as she saw the improvements. Maihi popped her head into the kitchen again before she left, pleased to find Hana obediently peering into the pot. “It’s beautiful! Youse make this house sing! Welcome to the Hakarimatas.”
She waved at Hana enthusiastically and Hana found her own hand waving back, looking at it in surprise as though it belonged to someone else.
Logan returned with his mobile phone in his hand, having exchanged numbers. “She’s awesome,” he said.
“She has a cell phone?” Hana asked in surprise and Logan smirked.
“She’s more savvy than you would think.”
“Do you think it could have been her on your phone before?”
Logan shook his head and looked impatient. “No, Hana. How could it be? Just let it go!”
Hana shook her head in irritation at herself as Logan poked around in the veggies with the wooden spoon. He found a lid to put over the top of them and turned the heat down to simmer. “What?” he asked, responding to the sideways look his wife gave him. She put on a simpering face meant to be an impression of him.
“Oh, come on Maihi, I’ll show you round. Come look at my bathroom and where I keep my slippers. Would you like to see my undies drawer too? I can line them up for you if you like…” Hana tailed off as Logan pursed his lips and pretended to be cross.
“She’s an elder,” he justified himself. “I was brought up to respect the kaumatua. Her whanau is honoured by mine. She knows a lot of the same people I do.”
Hana shrugged, mystified by the hidden code of honour in his culture. But Logan seemed comforted by the old lady’s visit. He leaned over to kiss Hana as she stood next to him examining the stew through the glass lid. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re too sick,” she told him, noticing the twinkle in his eye.
“I feel much better all of a sudden.” His voice took on a seductive tone and Hana shivered as Logan ran his index finger down her spine. “It must be the kawakawa,” he breathed onto her neck.
“You’re a very bad man. And what about the veggies?” Hana tried to dodge her husband’s kisses.
“Turn them down,” he whispered, his voice muffled in her hair.
Hana flicked the switch on the new stove and the bubbling calmed. Logan pushed his fingers underneath her sweater. “No! Not here!” Hana reprimanded him. “I bet you gave her a key.”
Logan snorted. “No I didn’t. But I will. She’s trustworthy.”
“Yeah, she’ll also be shocked if she wanders in unannounced! You’ve got the sex driv
e of a randy stallion! You’re meant to be sick!”
“Get back to bed, woman!” Logan ordered her and Hana ran down the hallway giggling and tried to shut the bedroom door on him. She wasn’t strong enough and Logan breached her pathetic efforts without breaking his stride. As Logan undressed her one-handed without losing eye contact, Hana felt herself melt under his gaze. “You’re such a player,” she giggled as his rough palms caressed the soft skin of her spine. Logan smirked down at her and brushed his lips across hers.
“I know,” he said with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, releasing the zipper on her jeans and pushing them gently over her buttocks.
When Hana decided to get up for the second time that day, she felt utterly decadent as she saw the clock moving its hands towards midday. She was generally an early riser and being in bed so late filled her with a mixture of guilt and panic.
“Stay with me,” Logan whispered, a sexy edge to his voice and Hana shrugged.
“I can’t. It doesn’t feel right to stay in bed all day, even on a weekend.” Even when she lived entirely alone at Achilles Rise without a single visitor, Hana was up and dressed for eight o’clock at the latest and could spend the whole day alone, perfectly styled and made up. She sat up in the wide bed hugging her knees, the sheets spilling around her waist to reveal her soft, creamy skin, as she pondered on the sadness of it all. Her empty weekends spread out behind her like a wake with cleaning and food shopping and catching up on phone calls, often remoting on to work via her laptop, continuing to answer emails and write letters, unpaid. “Gosh, my life was so dull,” she breathed.
Logan ran his finger down the ridges of her spine. It tickled and made her shiver. When he moved his hand around her side and started to pull her towards him, Hana pulled away. “No, you bad boy. I need something to show for my day!”
“I can show you plenty.” Logan’s full lips tugged upwards at one corner and his eyes looked mischievous.