by Bowes, K T
To her surprise, Pete didn’t object. “Yep, yep. Now, come on quick. Let’s go.” He stood up and tugged at Hana’s cast, which hurt. He was right. One glance at Sheila stood looking at her desk and muttering to herself, showed leaving the office would be the most sensible thing to do. For as long as practicable; until home time if possible. ‘Collecting things’ was a great pretext and Hana wasn’t going to get anything else done.
They slunk off out the back door, Hana wielding a carrier bag for the cables. As soon as they were on the back stairs, Pete turned towards her, his eyes huge in his pale face. “Why the hell was Logan putting a dead Chinaman into the back of your car last night with another guy?”
Hana stood stock still on the stairs, looking down at Pete’s face, which apart from being devastatingly ugly, was filled with a heady mixture of horror and curiosity. Hana contemplated how easily a person could jump from the frying pan and into the fire, without even noticing the hearth rug.
Pete wouldn’t leave it alone. “I want to know what he was doing!”
“No, you really don’t!” Hana retorted. “So shut up about it!”
“But I need to know.”
“So ask Logan!” Hana snapped and Pete’s face reddened.
“You know he’s not talking to me.” He gulped and Hana thought he might cry, turning back to her task with dread.
A thought occurred to her and she stopped grappling on the floor with a plug which appeared to be welded into its socket. “If you saw them struggling last night, why didn’t you go and help them?”
Pete stood holding the carrier bag and admiring Hana’s shapely rump whilst shaking his head emphatically. “No way! If he’s up to stuff, I’m not getting involved.”
“Then just shut up about it!” Hana shouted and pulled hard on the offending plug. It came away with a loud pop. Unfortunately, it brought the facia plate, switch and all the wiring with it. There was a big earwig in the hole behind it, going quietly about its business and it stopped in alarm as daylight flooded into its safe home. “Now look what you bloody did!” Hana yelled as the seam of her leggings made their way slowly up her bum again. “Aarrgghhh!” She yelled at the top of her voice and grappled behind her. She felt like killing for a cheese and onion sandwich and a sit down. Only a sit down involved the too tight leggings and a lot of discomfort, so really wasn’t an option.
Hana looked up murderously at Pete and he stepped back quickly. “Please. Go. And. Get....” She spoke through gritted teeth, seeing Pete running for the door long gone before she finished her sentence. “Get Ian!” she said to the empty hall, referring to the groundsman most likely to come in the next hour or so and repair the damage. The other two would be having their extended breakfast drink, which only stopped for their morning tea drink to be superseded by lunchtime, afternoon tea and then home time. All that remained of Pete was carrier bag on the parquet floor.
Hana hauled herself up and sat back on a red plastic chair near the wall. The electrics spewed out of the hole like an accusation. She breathed out slowly and the elastic waist of the leggings crawled down her rounded belly for the fiftieth time that morning, at the same time pulling taught around her bottom. She groaned. “I want to go home,” her moan echoing in the empty room. “I need to be in my dressing gown without underwear.”
The sound of rapid footsteps running down the corridor caused Hana to look up quickly and she heard her neck give that horrid little cricking sound it had started to do lately. “Oh, Hana, I’m such an idiot!” Sheila knelt down beside her, babbling on in a steady stream of apology. Hana tried to tune in but the woman wasn’t making any sense. “Pete said you’d been electrocuted, oh my goodness! Logan will kill me. I’m so damn selfish. You shouldn’t be here; you worked so hard last night. Do you want me to get an ambulance? What can I do for you?” Sheila’s voice wobbled as she held back tears.
“No, I didn’t get a shock and I’m fine. I’m just tired.” Hana sighed, feeling a total fraud.
“I’m going to send you home; Pete can do all of this clearing up. The prefects can help him...” Sheila said, standing up and waving her arms towards Pete. The spindly man grimaced and looked unhappy. “Stop that!” Sheila screeched at him. “Why was poor Hana grovelling around on the floor anyway? It should have been you!”
Pete swallowed and looked nervously at Hana. “You won’t tell Logan, will you?”
Hana patted Pete on the arm and shook her head in answer, as Sheila hauled her up and began dragging her towards the door. “Pete!” Sheila screeched at him, making him jump violently. “Run upstairs and get Hana’s handbag from the office!”
Pete shot off like a cork from a bottle, his scummy trainers pounding the parquet floor with gusto.
“Do you have the keys, sweetie, or do I have to...er,” Sheila gulped. “Do I need to send Pete to get them from Logan?”
“I’ve got my own,” Hana replied, shuffling towards the door like an old woman. “I started bringing them after...I started bringing my own.” She bit her lip and stopped herself mentioning Logan’s arrest.
“Then I’ll drive you home,” Sheila said with grace.
Sheila had never been to Culver’s Cottage and oohed and aaahed at everything, while Hana recovered enough to make some tea. Her mobile chirped in her bag while Sheila nosed around the bedrooms, pretending to use the bathroom and it took Hana a long phone call to reassure Logan that she was fine. “I’m ok, really,” she whispered. “I wasn’t electrocuted but they wouldn’t believe me. I’m not sorry I’m home though. I could use a nap.”
Logan laughed, but it was a tired and weary sound, not his usual happy snicker and Hana felt even guiltier. He could have used a day off far more than her. “I love you, babe,” he said. “I’d best go and teach the Year 13s. See you later for that slapping you promised me.”
Sheila stayed for an hour or more, but the minute she was gone Hana stripped off the offending leggings and ran a hot bath. She took a hefty cheese and onion sandwich into the bathroom with her but dropped off to sleep one time too many in the soothing hot bubbles and the sandwich dipped too far in to retrieve. Swilling wet breadcrumbs off herself with the showerhead, Hana decided to make something nice for her tired husband for his tea. But sitting on the bed in her towel proved far too tempting and Logan got home at four o’clock and found her fast asleep on top of the covers.
He slumped down next to her and neither of them woke again until the early hours of the next morning, when they covered themselves with the duvet and carried on sleeping.
Du Rose Legacy
Chapter 11
Amy proved to be an unexpected asset, a competent hairdresser in her free time. Amidst much giggling and with help from Jas, she and Hana shut themselves in the bathroom at Culver’s Cottage and Amy gave Hana’s hair a trim. Jas ran around them with a dustpan and brush trying to catch the fallen hair before it went on the floor. He got completely in the way and turned the whole thing into a fiasco, but they sent him out when Amy produced the hair dye. “No way, mate,” she said to his hopeful face. “This stuff isn’t for playing with.”
Bodie was on shift, but Amy and Jas were invited for tea, arriving equipped for an image makeover. Logan eyed them all nervously. “How about I go and get some shopping from Huntly?” he asked and fled before they answered.
While he was gone, Amy shortened Hana’s many layers and tapered the back of her hair to a neat round shape about ten centimetres above her waist. Hana’s hair was very long and Amy bought two packets of dye to cover it.
Amy got busy with the dye while they chatted, Jas grumbling from outside the bathroom door. “But I wanna see!” he whined and Amy refused for the fiftieth time.
Both women froze at the pattering of his feet and the sound of the front door opening. Hana gasped and held her hand to her throat. “Who’s that?” she whispered. “Don’t let him open the door!”
“It’s just me,” Logan called and Hana’s breath heaved with the adrenaline rush. “I’ve got
a movie for Jas and heaps of bad food.”
“Fantastic!” Amy shouted through the door, not sounding as though she meant it.
The women heard Logan snort. “Just don’t get blue hair. My mother will hate it.”
“Does that mean you won’t mind?” Amy asked facetiously.
“Nope, it means you turn my wife blue and I’ll turn your son green,” Logan retorted. “And I’ll time it so he pukes on the way home.”
“Whatever!” Amy laughed.
The women stayed in the bathroom for an hour and a half, spreading the dye, waiting for it to work and then washing it off. “It’s the regrowth that bothers me,” Hana said as Amy massaged the dye into her hair. “I look like a skunk with a red stripe.”
“No you don’t!” Amy replied. “But I’m not repairing what was there before, I’m doing my own thing.”
“Oh.” Hana sounded doubtful.
Hana saw the mahogany-red dye flowing into the bath as she bent over for Amy to run the water through and her heart sank. She was a redhead in denial. The little shower attachment stretched to its limit while Amy patiently leaned over Hana’s head, shampooing and washing until the water ran clear. Then she reached for a bottle of ordinary hair conditioner and squirted a huge globule into her hand. She spread it thoroughly through Hana’s hair, concentrating on the ends. Hana leaned awkwardly over the bath, wearing a bra and her tracksuit pants. “It’s very red,” Hana said, her voice sounding dull.
“Yep,” Amy replied. “Sure is.”
Hana waited for Amy to wash out the conditioner, but Amy stood up, stretching and rubbing her back. She grabbed the dark coloured towel, already slightly stained by dye and gave Hana’s hair a gentle teasing on the ends to remove the last of the drops. Hana flicked her hair back and leaned with her bottom on her heels. She felt and looked confused. “Sit back on the chair,” Amy ordered, “and I’ll just style it and tidy up any ends.” She set about pulling Hana’s hair away from her face and teasing it into shape. She snipped a few more layers into place and neatened up a gentle fringe.
“Once the baby comes, you won’t have time to be hair drying and straightening it every day. You need to be able to wet it and do this. Believe me, it’ll make life so much easier.”
Hana nodded. “After I had Bodie and Izzie, I spent about ten years with my hair pulled permanently back in a ponytail. Then I had it cut short. I figured what was the point of having long hair if I never had it down?”
Amy harrumphed. “Well, it’s beautiful. So don’t you dare cut it off again. I love your curls.”
When Hana finally looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see herself as she was about twenty years previously. Back in her university days she let her hair hang loose as her defining feature. The Te Kauwhata hairdresser had stripped out the fuzzy layers, but Hana kept straightening it anyway, finding it hard to break old habits. Amy had tidied up the layers and if anything, been harsher on them. “I didn’t take much off the length,” Amy said, coming up behind her to fiddle with some stray ends. She looked Hana in the eye in their reflected image and put her hands on her shoulders. “It makes you look so much younger.” Amy rested her chin gently on Hana’s shoulder. “The colour’s mahogany and you look absolutely stunning.”
She seemed nervous and Hana knew she was afraid now, as though she had gone too far. Amy wanted Hana to like it. Hana turned her head from side to side. She felt the wet tresses touching her back below her bra strap and smiled. “You’re right. It’s probably time for me to stop trying to be someone else. When I was first at uni, I liked myself. I think it was my happiest time. I’ve been hiding ever since, dying it brown and putting blonde streaks in it. It’s time to go back. Thank you.”
Amy went to the kitchen to get a cup of tea and check on Jas while Hana cleared up in the bathroom. Logan got stressy about mess which suited Hana just fine, as she was a relatively tidy person. She left the bathroom spotless but with a rebellious urge, opened the clear plastic container on the hand vacuum and emptied it out of the window. Fresh air gusted in, disturbing the shower curtain. Hana giggled naughtily as her copper, brown and blonde hair snips fluttered away in the breeze. Up into the Hakarimata Ranges they went, breaking up and dispersing in the wind, taking with them the shrouding of Hana’s soul and releasing her finally. “Goodbye old Hana,” she said, waving the strands off.
Hana pulled her tee shirt over her head and down over her bump as far as it would go, straightened her shoulders and left the bathroom. Amy clattered around with the kettle and teapot. “Go take a look in there.” She inclined her head towards the living room door and smiled.
Hana halted in the lounge doorway. Logan and Jas both lay on the sofa with their backs to her. Logan had built up the fire so it was warm and comforting. He snored softly while a rented copy of ‘Lion King’ played to itself on the TV. Jas was also still, his head slumped against Logan. The man had his arm protectively around the little boy who loudly sucked his tiny thumb. Hana watched them tenderly for a moment before turning the TV sound down, just as the wildebeest trampled Simba’s father. Jas sat up quickly, his dark hair tousled on his little head. “No Hanny. We was watching it!” Then he did a double take at her new look. “Wow! Youse a red Hanny!”
He leaned into the sleeping Logan and prodded and pushed at him until he roused. “Look Poppa-Logan. Hanny’s bootifool.”
Jas heard the clatter of cups in the kitchen and hopped off the sofa, dragging his blanky and teddy, following what he hoped was the sound of food being produced. Logan sat up and ran his hands through his hair, rubbing his eyes and stretching. Then he looked at Hana as if noticing her for the first time. The glow of the fire backlit her, shrouding her in a halo of light. Feeling foggy from the heat of the fire and the stuffiness of the room, Logan stood up and moved towards her. She looked the same as she did all those years ago, the same vibrant red hair and the glossy, tumbling curls. “You look unchanged,” he breathed into her hair. “It’s exactly how I remember you.”
He held her tight, smelling the sweet freshness of the conditioner and the dampness of her hair. Inside, the teenage boy finally caught up to the man he had become and he kissed Hana on the side of her cheek, holding her close. A peace which had eluded him seemed to settle and he realised it was contentment. He took a long breath out and dared to admit to himself that finally, it felt good. “I love you, Hana Du Rose,” he breathed into her hair. “I always loved you.”
Maihi agreed to take care of Tiger, while Logan and Hana left work as soon as the final bell rang on Friday, driving straight up to the hotel. “It’s nice to be able to leave the city,” Logan sighed as they blasted up the highway.
“You already left the city,” Hana replied, watching the scenery pass the windows at speed.
“Yeah, but Odering doesn’t know that.” He smiled with mischief in his eyes.
Odering had contacted him the previous afternoon to inform him Boris had returned to Germany, having offered confusing evidence as to who hit him. He had however, made a statement affirming it wasn’t Logan.
“It must feel nice to be off the hook,” Hana said, smiling at him with relief.
“Definitely,” Logan replied, hiding his frown from her as he thought, I wish. Odering pestered him at the rate of one phone call a day, always with the same demand. Logan bit his lip. At least at the hotel, cell phone coverage was intermittent, especially if he turned his phone off.
“Your fingers still look sore.” Hana pointed at the swollen hand on the steering wheel and Logan shrugged.
“I’ve had worse.”
“You should have let the doctor x-ray it. He wasn’t very happy with you.”
“Don’t care. I’m the paying customer. I know they’re broken, so why should I pay for an x-ray just for him look at it and announce they’re broken. Guy must have thought I had time to waste. I just needed him to properly splint them and you couldn’t do it tight enough with your weak arm.”
“You were scary,” Hana grumble
d. “Poor man.”
“I wasn’t scary, I was authoritative. It’s different.”
“Well, he didn’t much like it.”
“Nope. But his strapping worked. It’s heaps less painful.” The vein in the side of Logan’s neck began to throb, warning Hana the subject was closed. Logan Du Rose was a law unto himself. Hana smirked, not wanting to admit to being turned on by her commanding husband as he stood over the tired doctor, oozing mana and power and ultimately getting what he wanted.
The weather became less tumultuous an hour north and the drive became sunny and pleasurable once out of the Waikato. The mountains formed the hunting ground of Logan’s youth and he knew where all the best tucked away places were. He took Hana to a little café off the beaten track, near State Highway 1. It had a completely French theme, even down to the serviettes. The owner came across to greet them, surprising Hana by giving her husband a warm hug. “Hey, cuz, kia ora!” Around Logan’s age, the man was large and imposing, gripping him in a bear hug. Hana’s jaw dropped at the physical welcome.
“This is Alex,” Logan introduced him. He squared his shoulders as he turned to Hana. “Alex, this is my wife, Hana.”
“My full name is ‘Alexandre,’ which in French means ‘protector of men.’ I’m very pleased to meet you, Hana.” The man stuck his large hand out towards Hana and she took it, her tiny fingers disappearing into the folds of skin in his palm. He kept hold of Hana’s hand and turned to Logan. “So, why no invite, cuz? What’s the story?”
“No story.” Logan’s face shuttered and the man looked disappointed.
“Another time then.” Alex took the warning, his grey eyes cloaked in amusement. “Sit, sit.” he told them. “I’ll send the waitress over.”
“He’s not scared of you!” Hana whispered once they were alone at their table. Logan snorted.