by Bowes, K T
Pete lurched through awkwardly, turning to slam his body weight against it and deadlock the Yale. Hana’s heart rate increased alarmingly, leaving her shaking uncontrollably. Sheila’s face went a sickly grey and her mouth was forming a little ‘o’ of dismay. After his drama, Pete strolled across the room, cool as a cucumber and crawled underneath his desk, kicking his chair out of the way first. Once underneath, he pulled a pie out of his jacket pocket and began to unwrap it.
“What on earth was that all about?” Sheila finally managed to get out, half croaked, half shrieked. Pete looked unconcerned as he munched and replied, his mouth full of pastry, “It’s a lockdown. Guy with a knife on the grounds. We’re gonna be here a while. Just needed to make sure I had some food so I got Darnell to pass me a steak and cheese out of the tuck shop window. Cops were arriving as I came up the stairs.”
“Well, you scared us half to death!” Sheila complained, “What was all the crashing through the door rubbish?”
Pete shrugged nonchalantly, making his tongue reach almost to his chin to retrieve a lump of dripping steak. “Didn’t want the cops to stop me did I? My pie would get cold, duh!”
He turned his back on her and licked his greasy fingers like a cat. Hana sank into her chair and rested her head on the table, squashing her neat paperwork flat. Sheila bustled over and began to pat her on the back like she was a baby who needed burping, hissing, “Silly little man,” over her shoulder at Pete. “Now look what you did!”
After a moment and with another reminder from the Speaker-Angus, Sheila checked both doors and the sliding window were properly shut and locked. To get to the window, she leaned over Pete’s desk and deliberately kicked him twice in the thigh with her pointy stiletto as she fake-checked the bolt, which anyone could see was already clicked safely home.
They stayed in the office for twenty minutes, Hana and Sheila fiddling aimlessly with paperwork but ready to dive under their tables if necessary and Pete sleeping underneath his desk, carefree as a new-born babe. A realisation worked its way into Hana’s consciousness, aside from worrying about Logan, who she knew would defend his boys to the death. She needed to pee. She needed it for some time even before the lockdown, but put it off while she got her forms finished. Now it become desperate. Hana tried all the usual tricks for taking her mind off it and the moment for those to be effective had passed. She got to her feet and announced as confidently as possible to the room, “I need to go to the bathroom!”
Sheila appeared in her office doorway looking aghast and even Pete opened one eye. Sheila shook her head.
“I have to,” Hana said, desperation in her voice, “I’m desperate.”
“You can’t!” they chorused in reply, for once in unison.
“I can!” shrieked Hana, “I’m pregnant!”
Finally, it was out there. Other people knew. Hana wondered if Logan would be mad at her. It was an emergency, she reasoned as Sheila hugged her warmly and Pete came out from under the table to shake her hand with his greasy one, spreading second-hand-pie-crumbs on her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Suddenly it was beyond desperate or urgent and Hana lurched towards the back door, which would take her downstairs to the toilets only metres away.
“No!” cried Sheila at Hana’s retreating back, “Stay upstairs, we’ll come with you.” She gave Pete a slap on the back of the head as he bolted for safety under his desk. “Get here!” she hissed menacingly, catching hold of the back of his jacket. “Be a man for once in your damn life!”
Pete came reluctantly to heel and Sheila unlocked the large door to the common room, pushing Pete out first to check it was clear. He indicated after some reluctance it was and they filed out carefully, Sheila making sure the door clicked locked behind her. They crept through the common room making sure to stay away from the windows, out into the hallway and across the landing to the staffroom. A difficulty faced them instantly.
Floor-to-ceiling windows formed one wall of the room, facing out onto the balcony and the fields. A gathering of police cars and personnel faced the school and anyone crossing the room would be instantly visible. Policemen clothed entirely in black, their faces covered with balaclavas were discernible, dotted around the gathered patrol cars, making Hana shiver with fear. “They’ve got the armed response unit out there,” she wailed. “If they shoot at me, I’ll pee my pants!”
“If they shoot at you, we all will!” Pete grumbled.
“This way,” whispered Sheila, taking control. The three of them crawled on their hands and knees, round into the open plan kitchen, shielding them from view for half the length of the room. Then the chairs and tables protected them the rest of the way.
The old doors clunked as Sheila pushed them open and then they were on their feet and bursting into the toilet opposite the special learning suite. Hana’s trouser legs were filthy at the knees and she examined them in disgust as she sat on the toilet. She heard a grunt as Sheila pulled Pete into the bathroom and a scuffle as he resisted. “Get in here, you useless lump of lard,” Sheila spat and then there was the sound of a slap and a grunt.
Hana emerged, feeling like a new woman, bobbing down to avoid making a person-shaped image against the frosted glass and setting off a further emergency while she washed her hands.
Pete looked embarrassed and uncomfortable and realising suddenly they were no longer locked into anywhere, began to panic. “We’re all gonna die!” he squealed. “No, that’s a ladies’ toilet. Ethel Bowman’s sat on there!” He refused point blank to go into one of the cubicles and sit on the toilet seat until it was all over and so Sheila pushed all three of them into the shower room and locked the door. The room was a proper sealed wet-room rather than a cubicle and there was a sense of safety in the click of the bolt against the door frame. Sheila and Hana sat on the slatted bench and Pete positioned himself with his back to the door, his feet against the bottom of the shower. He shut his eyes and put his head back.
“Thanks guys,” Hana breathed out and Sheila patted her hand gently.
Sheila began to ask questions about the baby and Hana begged her and Pete, whom she had to nudge with her foot to get a response, not to say anything to anyone. “There are risks, you see,” she said, her voice faltering dreadfully. “It might not all be all right. I need to know before I tell anyone else, like Bodie or Izzie or Logan’s family. It’s going to be hard enough if…” she tailed off hopelessly.
Looking down at Pete, she saw for once he listened intently with something like sympathy in his face and he reached up and patted her knee with a tenderness one didn’t usually associate with Peter North. Sheila put her arm around Hana and clasped her protectively. Hana was grateful she didn’t try and use any platitudes like, ‘it will be ok.’ She just sat with her arm around her. Hana sighed and realised it hadn’t been so hard telling someone. If only the results came in ok, she could face admitting to people that at her great age, she had been enjoying fantastic sex and was consequently expecting a baby.
They were in the shower room for a further hour, by which time Hana realised she needed to pee again. She was relieved when the bell sounded and Angus’ droll voice reassured them they were all safe to come out. The noise around the school instantly rose to a deafening throb as boys and staff moved around the site again. Hana went back into the toilet while Sheila checked the hallway was clear for Pete to be pushed out into it. She overestimated her own strength however and shot the thin little man out into the hall and straight through into the room opposite. There was the sound of a crash as he hit the metal filing cabinets on the far wall. “Oopsie!” Sheila called after him.
The bell rang twice, indicating an interval period and the boys filed outside gratefully into the winter sunshine. Plainly it was best to keep them outside for a while to cool off and get over their enforced confinement. As Hana emerged from the bathroom feeling exhausted, a strong pair of arms went around her from behind and she smelled her husband’s aftershave. Despite being in clear view of the boys filling the
staircase behind them, he spun her round and kissed her. Wolf whistles and comments rang out from the boys, but Logan didn’t seem to care. “You ok?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “I heard they caught him in the common room. You must have been terrified!”
Hana looked instantly guilty and Logan’s head reeled back as he stared at her intently. He made a decision and Hana saw the mental wrangling going on as he stared her down but then he sighed, kissed her again and let her go. “Tell me at home!” he growled resignedly and giving her one last hug, strode off to deal with the bottleneck on the staircase.
As Hana made her way to the coffee machine, wondering if her pregnancy caffeine revulsion had faded with the morning sickness, she saw poor Sheila surrounded by a group of staff, clamouring for details of the knife, the intruder and his capture. Sheila’s mouth gaped like a fish and for once, she was entirely silent.
They finally settled back down to their work, Hana emailing out to the presenters due to attend the careers evening in a few weeks. A police photographer clicked away on an incredibly average camera next door in the common room, capturing the scene for evidence. Sheila leaned over Hana’s shoulder, discussing the layout of the brochure which they would produce in advance and Hana heard her mutter the words, “Sod’s Law,” under her breath.
Hana turned quickly as Bodie strutted through the doorway, his notebook at the ready. He appeared calm and professional, but Hana picked up the concern in his face. “Now then ladies, I’ve come to take your statements!”
Pete bridled at the use of the term ‘ladies’ even though it was meant to be humorous and curled his bottom lip into an instant pout. Hana’s heart sank. How could you admit to your own son you hadn’t been where you were meant to have been, didn’t see what might have proved very helpful and weren’t going to be able to provide the necessary evidence. Oh and…sorry.
The story took a while to tell with Hana giving Pete a sharp kick in the shins when she thought he was going to mention the reason why she was desperate for the toilet. If poor Bodie was totally confused he covered it well, although Hana expected a visit or phone call later on. He shut his notebook with a snap, concluding the exercise was pointless and the star witnesses were no longer stars.
“Even if we were here,” whined Pete in his most irritating gripey voice, “we would have needed to be looking through the keyhole to see anything anyway!”
Bodie laughed loudly. “Yep,” he answered good-naturedly, “and I would bet a month’s salary you would have been.”
Hana smirked while Pete protested and Sheila just looked embarrassed.
Hana Du Rose
Chapter 28
Logan found the whole thing hilarious as Hana explained it all on the way home later. They were still giggling as they rounded the bend on Hakarimata Road and pulled left into the bottom of the driveway.
“It’s not that funny,” Hana sniggered, breaking off at the look on her husband’s face.
“Shit!” Logan stood sharply on the brakes, almost rear ending a small, white Toyota parked in front of the gates, which remained stubbornly shut against it. Logan pulled the Honda’s back end off the road and got out to go and see who the visitor was. His movements were jerky and dangerous and Hana’s heart felt as though it crawled further up her chest.
As the driver of the vehicle also emerged, Hana’s heart let go of her throat and sank down into her boots, making the thud of her blood pressure feel strangely dulled. Tama. The men did this funny handshake thing, which she saw them do once before and then Logan came back to the car and pushed the remote to open the gate. He started the engine and glanced across at Hana, who sat facing forward with a look of thunder disfiguring her pretty face. “It’s just for a few nights he…”
“No!!!” Hana exploded, “No, no, no, not for any nights, no!”
Logan looked at her in curiosity, almost fudging the turn on the last bend whilst trying to use all the usual platitudes, “Come on babe, it’ll be fine,” he said, sounding firm, but Hana sat rigidly in her seat refusing to either argue or debate the point. Tama parked his car slewed across the dip down to the garage, so Logan had to negotiate the rear of the Toyota to slide their car in front of the house. When Hana got out of the car and into the cooling air, the atmosphere crackled and hissed with the bile she felt inside and even Tama picked up something was wrong, standing hesitantly on the deck while Logan fiddled with the front door lock.
As the front door into Hana’s solace swung open, she yelled, “I said NO! Is nobody listening to me?”
Logan went to turn the burglar alarm off and came back to the step, looking perplexed. Hana didn’t even look at Tama, directing her anger towards her husband. “HE is not coming here, not staying with us, not having anything to do with ME! Do you get it?” The silence was loaded, so she kept going, “He wrecked my small but significant honeymoon, ruined my friend’s marriage, destroyed my friendship, put you in the hospital and used MY phone to get to Anka again. Then he followed her and fought with her husband. He is a selfish little man and I want him off this property before I call the cops!”
With the mention of cops, Tama stepped back towards his car, but Logan wasn’t about to give in that easily. “Hana,” he said reasonably, “I live here too and he’s family.”
“Not mine!” she countered and her tone was hard and unyielding. She was determined not to give in this time. She remembered the misery of Tama’s last visit, the isolation she felt from Logan when he was around, how she seemed unwelcome and worse, unsafe in her own home. She wasn’t going to allow it again. He was not staying.
Her legs shook, climbing the stairs up to the front door. Tama stood back away from her as she passed and she ignored him. At the doorway, despite the height difference between her and Logan, she looked him right in the eyes and uttered her final sentence on the matter, “Send him away, Logan and if you don’t like it, go with him!”
As the words hit the freezing air and bounced back at her, Logan blanched and Hana knew she had gone too far. She took Logan’s name but made little effort to change it on any of her official documents. The house was still in Hana Johal’s name as were her various insurances, her driving licence and the bills. It was almost as though she felt it to be temporary in some way and now she had said so. She reduced him to the level of a lodger, thrown out because of a mess on the carpet or a rowdy visitor.
Logan looked cut and angry and Hana regretted it. Especially for her to have said it in front of Tama, of all people. It felt as though the world halted on its axis as she waited for the next move. In her heart of hearts, she knew Logan would go. How could he not? If he stayed, he left himself open to accusations of being ‘under the thumb’ and his family brought out the macho-ego part of him too much for him to allow that. Feeling suddenly tired and defeated Hana turned, walked past him into the house and slammed the front door after herself. Reason told her he no longer needed to make a decision because she did it for him. He could save face now and go with his errant, thuggish nephew.
She sat at the kitchen table alone, unable to contemplate what now lay ahead for her, overwhelmed once again by circumstance. She didn’t hear the spiteful comment Tama made towards her retreating back, or the sneer which accompanied it. “I never thought I’d see you whipped by a chick, bro’.” Tama misjudged the situation badly this time. “Specially not a little English bird neither!” Hana didn’t see Logan get his nephew by the throat and lean him back against the Toyota’s bonnet, his other fist raised in the air. She didn’t see him let go, surprisingly without hitting the teenager and push the young man hard into the vehicle.
“Piss off, Tama!”
The gate alarm sounded in the hallway and caused Hana to raise her head off her arms. But the click of the front door shutting made her rise to her feet. Logan faced her, still in his outdoor clothes and the standoff was tense and silent. He looked at her long and hard. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening to you, was I?” Logan squatted down next to his wife, his scarred
right hand gripping the edge of the table. “Family stuff’s hard and I feel like I have to sort out all their problems, but I don’t mean to put them first.” Logan’s elbow rested on his thigh and he rubbed his hand across his eyes with a huge sigh.
Hana sank back into her seat, gripping the bridge of her nose to stem the rising headache. She felt very old. Maybe he hadn’t been listening, but something told her he was now.
Chastened, Hana spent the rest of the week filling in forms and providing copies of her marriage certificate, which Angus kindly verified for her as a justice of the peace. She changed her driver’s licence, bank account details and her insurances. Logan wouldn’t let her put Culver’s Cottage in both their names but agreed they should open a joint bank account and put money in it each week to cover the bills and cost of their shared existence, instead of him keep transferring into hers. The incident over Tama’s arrival wasn’t mentioned again, but Hana felt it hung over them like a curse.
On Thursday, she crept into the staffroom, calling the doctor’s surgery from the little booth by the kitchen area. She worried about her results to a level that made her ignore meal times and stay awake at night and so decided she would brook the beast and ask, rather than waiting for the written result to fall into the letter box.
She was unhappy when told to ring back after two o’clock for blood results. “I work in a school!” she complained to the impassive voice on the other end of the line. “How easy do you think it is to ring you at specific times?”
Sheila let her ring from the privacy of her office at two thirty, only for Hana to be told her midwife would give her the results. Hana tried to explain she didn’t have one, or know where to get one, but the receptionist drove her almost to screaming point with her inability, or reluctance, to try and understand.