Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  “You look so beautiful,” Hana breathed appreciatively, stroking the happy faces through the glass. Maihi smiled and sat back down in her seat opposite.

  “It was a truly happy day,” she said, nodding at the memory. “He is a lovely husband. I have been so very fortunate.”

  Hana smiled, thinking about her own good fortune. To have been loved twice in one lifetime was more than anyone could ask. Thinking about poor Logan at home and in pain made her squirm with sudden guilt and she downed her tea quickly and wanted to leave. Maihi put the photo back into its place on the wall and indicated to Hana she would accompany her. Hana thought at first she meant back to Culver’s Cottage and was temporarily overwhelmed by the relief she felt at not having to negotiate the bush alone, but once outside, Maihi went round to the river side of her home and began yanking out bits of plant. Hana worried as she was handed stalk after stalk of green shoots with bright flowers hanging from them. Most had roots dangling precariously from their fragile stems, but Hana still feared for their future under her ham-fisted care. “I hope these are quite hardy,” Hana feared, “I don’t have a great track record with growing things.”

  Ignoring her, Maihi produced a carrier bag from her pocket and pushed it into Hana’s hand. “Here you go, girl. Shove them in there.”

  The bag was delicately folded so as to form a tiny triangle and Hana wondered how on earth she had created the delicate package out of a plastic bag. The plant stems were pushed into its folds and then Maihi took the whole thing back and, shoving it under her arm, set off up the paddock at a fierce rate. Hana ran to keep up with her, making her realise how painfully unfit she had become. “Thanks for taking me home,” she puffed, feeling like a child. “I’m not sure I could find my way back again.”

  Maihi didn’t stop until they reached the top of the paddock and then she paused to look back down on her home and wait for Hana’s lurching figure. She let Hana catch her breath for a moment before pulling a length of string from her pocket. “I need youse to be able to find your way here and back,” she said, her face stern, “so I’m going to tie markers at points along the way. They’ll fade with age and the weather, so take special care to note where I put them.”

  Hana didn’t comment but looked at the older woman quizzically. Maihi correctly interpreted the look. “My niece works at the video store in town. Men came in, enquiring about youse. She rang me earlier.”

  Hana’s bottom sank to rest against a fence post in desperation, the waves of panic which had almost overwhelmed her a few hours earlier having returned in full force. “Oh, no.”

  Maihi reached for her and made her sit on the wet ground, the beautiful view stretched out before her, now unseen. Hana put her head between her legs in an attempt to quell the awful feeling of faintness. She felt the grass depress as Maihi sat down next to her. “We gonna get wet arses, girl,” she said as she put her arm around Hana. The stricken woman smiled lamely and replied,

  “Too late.”

  Maihi put her head back and roared with laughter, adding seriously, “She never told them, my niece. Said she never heard of you, then phoned me. Don’t worry. We don’t betray our own, not here my girl. Not in the Kingitanga.” The last was said with real determination and Hana knew instinctively she was sincere.

  Haltingly, Hana told Maihi about the incident in Ngaruawahia that morning. She held nothing back, explaining how she felt at having been discovered finally, after feeling so safe in the Māori stronghold. Maihi patted her back gently as she spoke, chuckling quietly as Hana recounted her disguise of the dirty tea-towel. They sat companionably as the wet soil leaked through their trousers and undies and made them miserably wet as Maihi predicted.

  “Come on girl, we can’t sit here and hui all day!” Maihi hefted Hana to her feet with a surprisingly strong arm and they progressed home through the bush. At intervals, Maihi stopped to tie string to significant landmarks. The pale coloured material seemed to disappear into the landscape, but Hana struggled valiantly to memorise the route and so it leapt out at her as confirmation, where it would have been invisible to another walker. Hana was grateful for the special care her neighbour showed her and wondered as she fell over rocks and stumbled over roots, how she could possibly repay her kindness.

  They reached the paddock which lay beyond the bush and Maihi stooped down to tie string to one of the posts, wrapping it around the fence wire and managing to make it look as though it blew there naturally. “A good tracker will find this instantly,” she said, dispelling Hana’s temporary feelings of safety, “but from what my niece said, I think they are just thugs.”

  Oh great, thought Hana internally, just thugs. She tried to ignore the tea rising up into her throat and the feeling of doom, by changing the subject. She waved her arm expansively to take in the paddocks below and between the two houses. “Who owns all these? They’re a little overgrown.”

  Maihi looked at her curiously and a little scornfully. “You do! You egg!”

  Hana felt foolish. She wanted to explain she examined the deeds but at the time, not understood the geography. She thought she owned ten acres, but really, that was going on what the land agent told her. At some point soon, she would get the papers back out of her portable safe and look at them. Hana wished she concentrated harder when the conveyancer painstakingly went through all the details. Logan sat in with her and at one point gave a low whistle, which Hana took to mean something was good, but then they moved on swiftly to the covenants which were complicated and the subject never came up again.

  Stopping again to tie another marker as the paddock doglegged sharply downwards, Hana began to ask Maihi about the quality of the grazing, attempting to sound intelligent.

  “It’s good, usually through winter we get by, but we have fifteen hectares and the constant rain is making the grass grow, but restricting where we can put the stock cause of the mud.”

  Hana looked down at the sea of long grass through which she constantly tripped and stumbled. “We have ten acres, whatever that is in hectares and no stock as yet so why don’t you graze here?”

  Maihi stopped suddenly and Hana almost barrelled into the back of her, slipping as she grappled for her footing on the slope. Maihi stared intently at her for a long moment, before turning to continue striding down the bank. As she began to speak, Hana ran to keep up with her and bend forward to hear what she was saying. “You have ten hectares, not ten acres girl. It belonged to my grandfather and his father before him. My father built my house. My other son, not Hone, lost it for our whanau some years ago. It was sold to cover his debts. I was bitter about it.”

  She stopped again and turned on her heel, watching with some surprise as Hana slid past her on her backside, unable to stop. Hana picked herself up, awkwardly brushing the muck off the back of her pants, noticing with dismay a clump of grass had stuck to her butt like a green tail. Maihi seemed oblivious as she seized Hana by the shoulders. “I am not bitter now. You are a pakeha white woman, but you are good pakeha. I appreciate your kind offer. Thank you.”

  To Hana’s amazement, Maihi hugged her suffocatingly into her copious bosom. It was one of those peculiar moments in life. Two women (one now very filthy in the backside department) hugging on a hillside in rural Waikato in the epicentre of New Zealand’s North Island. It was a unifying moment which set the scene for a great friendship that would neither grow old nor wear out. Hana felt accepted. It had been a great many years since anyone like a mother figure embraced her and it made Hana realise how much she missed her own mum.

  Maihi let her go and they proceeded companionably down to Culver’s Cottage to plant the cuttings in Hana’s new flowerbeds. As they worked side by side, Hana got to wondering how big ten hectares actually was.

  When Hana finally went back inside, she found Logan sat alone at the kitchen table. He looked more refreshed and in less pain than before. Hana came up behind him, put her arms around his shoulders and leaned her face on the back of his neck. “Hey gorgeous,” sh
e nuzzled into his skin. He smelled soapy, like he’d showered and his hair was wet. He reached up and stroked her forearm gently.

  “The jug’s hot,” he said quietly and Hana went over to the kettle and began to make herself tea, clanking around a cup and spoon noisily. Logan looked up at her and then exclaimed suddenly, “Hana! Your backside’s filthy! Have you been making a mud-slide or something?”

  Hana felt behind at the now crusty mess and groaned. “No, I made a flower bed,” she replied and went off down the hallway to sort herself out, hearing Logan calling behind her,

  “With your arse?”

  While she was in the shower, Logan brought her a cup of tea and sat on the toilet lid to talk to her. He felt better but had started taking the medication, so was beginning to worry about how that was going to affect him. “It’s like as soon as I get rid of one problem, around the corner comes another!”

  The stomach ache abated to a dull pain at the left of his scar. To be on the safe side, the doctor also prescribed yet more antibiotics in case the drain holes were becoming infected. “Oh, I didn’t see those pills in the rush,” Hana commented, unaware of Logan’s strange look towards the shower curtain at her use of the word ‘rush.’ Hana was pleased to find the bathroom scrubbed and clean after Logan’s hour puking in the toilet. “Your mother obviously house trained you well.”

  As she showered, Hana tried not to concentrate on the peeling floral wallpaper too hard. The room was originally a separate toilet and bathroom, at some point merged into one. A beam showed the original divide and was badly in need of painting. She opened the window before showering, but the room desperately required an extractor fan. Another daunting job.

  As Hana towel dried herself behind the curtain, Logan asked her far too casually, “You mentioned it was a rush before, at the pharmacy. Why? And what’s the story with the tea-towel on the head?”

  “Pardon?” Hana wondered momentarily what her husband was talking about, putting her hand up to feel her freshly washed hair in confusion. Then she remembered. “Ohhh, that.” She told him briefly about the incident in the town, trying not to dramatise the whole thing but was not surprised when he ripped back the shower curtain and stood facing her with his hands on his hips. He looked angry.

  “You didn’t call the cops?”

  “No!” she bit back, crossly grappling with the towel that slipped unhelpfully out of her grasp, “I was trying to medication back to my husband, who incidentally, was rolling around on the floor in agony!”

  Logan’s face softened and he put his hand up to touch her damp curls. “Hana stop hiding. You’re beautiful.”

  “I’ve got stretch marks!” she retorted and stepping out of the bath, stomped from the room. Logan heard the bedroom door shut behind her and bit his lip thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, and I’ve kissed most of them,” he sighed.

  A while later he slipped into the living room with the phone handset and made two calls. The first was to his stepson although it was so after the fact it was next to useless. Hana parted with the registration number of the BMW, although she now doubted her memory of individual numbers and letters and he passed it on reluctantly. The next call was to the hotel, to his father.

  Once she was dressed, Hana texted Sheila, apologising for not yet being ready to return but promising to be available should she need to clarify anything. Sheila texted quickly back. Angus forbade Hana to return anyway and blasted Sheila for putting pressure on her. Sheila didn’t understand and wasn’t happy, but regardless was readying herself for chaos as she tried to evict Peter North from her office. ‘If he’s put pie crumbs on my chair, he’s a dead man!’ Sheila texted.

  The physical activity made Hana feel tired and the TV selection was rubbish. The darker nights reminded her of English winters and it made her feel miserable. Hana went to bed early, trying to read but fell asleep in her book. Logan wasn’t far behind her, accidentally disturbing her as he took the book from her hands and turned out the light. They snuggled down together comfortably, until Logan decided to show her what he thought of her stretch marks. His skin felt soft and his body taut next to hers and his kisses fluttered seductively across her neck. He was always hard to resist. “Oh my goodness! Where do you find the energy?” Hana giggled as Logan attacked her underwear with skillful fingers.

  If Hana wondered how a man dying only hours before could seem so insatiable, the thought was rapidly pressed out of her head by his tongue seeking hers in the darkness and his hands lifting up the hem of her nightdress.

  Hana Du Rose

  Chapter 17

  The next day dawned brightly and to her surprise, Hana slept late again. She awoke feeling slightly groggy but was heartened to see the sun peeking through the curtains and scattering light over her fiery hair as it draped over the pillow. Before she even fixed her feet to the rug, she decided to utilise the sunshine by doing some more outside work instead of staying inside painting.

  In the kitchen, Logan was on the telephone, breaking off quickly to kiss her lightly on the cheek. He was already dressed and looked healthier, but still thin and gaunt. “24.71,” he said to her, as Hana crossed the kitchen to fill the kettle.

  Hana was nonplussed. “Pardon?” she said, confused. Logan had taken a bite of his toast and waved the remainder of the piece over towards the windows and the bush.

  “Acres,” he answered, covering his full mouth with his hand. He swallowed and then went on, “You wanted to know how many acres you owned. It’s 24.71, which is ten hectares.” He indicated a sheaf of papers on the table, “I looked it up in the deeds.”

  Hana filled the kettle and then put it on to boil, leaning back against the counter facing Logan. “What am I going to do with all that?” she asked. Logan shrugged.

  “Lots of things. Eventually. For now, let Maihi graze what she needs of it. The grass only grows to a certain length and then it dies off underneath after a while, so it’s best it gets cut somehow. Don’t let’s worry about it for now though hey?” He came across and put his arms around his wife, cuddling into her messy hair and sighing with contentment. A face appeared suddenly at the window, making him jump and he reached across and unlatched the window. “Come in stupid cat, before you break your neck!”

  Once inside, Tiger purred happily, rubbing round their legs until Hana restocked his food bowl. When she stood up, Hana prodded Logan in the back. “I don’t want him to come in the kitchen window,” she said sternly, “he’s not allowed on the work surfaces.”

  “Sorry Miss,” he replied in a false baby voice and Hana cuffed him gently round the head.

  Tiger was alarmed by the squeal Hana let out as Logan chased her back down the hallway and into the bedroom. As he heard more giggling, he relaxed and put his face back into his food bowl. The crunchy kibbles weren’t as nice as the bits of roasted pig he ate just after midnight, but they would do for now. The two men who moved in after dark, setting up camp in the bush high above the house were generous with their free booty. Their pig dogs were tied up safely and quickly silenced with a look from one of the men, but Tiger hadn’t lingered just in case. He knew what a gun was; shot in the leg as a kitten when he lived at the storage lock-ups in Hamilton. The owner’s wife found and cared for him, intending to hand him over to Animal Welfare once he was better. But she liked him and took him to Achilles Rise where he ruled over the street for years, staying at the house when Hana bought it. He was a big tom cat; once a fierce and renowned fighter.

  The bush fascinated him and despite his age had given him a new lease of life. He licked his paws and washed his face and ears, before padding into the living room to lie in the large patch of sun developing in the bay window. It felt like a long night and he needed a good rest.

  Escaping eventually from Logan’s clutches, Hana cleared up the kitchen, got into her scruffiest clothing and pottered around the front garden. Maihi’s cuttings looked a little limp so she gave them water and set about uncovering other neglected flowerbeds around t
he driveway at the top of the slope. Logan sat for a time on the porch steps, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. “This is nice,” he sighed. “I’m not used to just sitting on my backside.”

  Hana turned soil with a pitchfork and defined the edges of the beds with a spade before weed matting the areas. She had nothing to put in them, which was a shame and she was too frightened after yesterday to risk popping into town. “I’m just making it look neater for now, anyway,” she chatted to her husband.

  Logan helped out with some awkward tree roots but Hana was reluctant to let him hurt himself. “Aw, woman!” he grumbled. “I’m going to get some exercise I think. I’ll walk up to the top of the property to the bush line and back.”

  “Want some company?” Hana offered but to her surprise he brushed her off and set off alone, promising he had his phone with him in case of emergency.

  Hana glanced up occasionally, watching Logan’s progress up the right hand side of the paddock. She saw him stop suddenly and waited to make sure he was ok. He lifted his hand to his ear and Hana guessed he was on his phone. Glancing across at hers lying on the porch steps, she wondered if he was calling her, but it stayed silent. When Hana looked back at Logan he was walking again, both hands swinging by his sides so she thought perhaps she imagined it. The woman got back on with her digging and didn’t see him climb over the fence and into the bush. Within an hour, he was back again looking flushed and relaxed. The walk did him good. He went back inside to make a drink, kicking his gumboots off on the porch. Hana noticed fern roots in the grips of the soles.

  The sound of the intercom from the gate made her start with fear and Hana dropped the fork she was using, narrowly missing prodding it through her boot. She rushed up the stairs, tripping over her phone and discarded jacket, to find Logan had buzzed the gates open. Hana clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and frantic. “No! No, they’ve found us, Logan they’ve found us!”