by Bowes, K T
Eventually, when she heard Logan’s slow breathing she began to feel safe and allowed herself to relax. She would be due another antibiotic soon and the heaviness in her stomach already felt lessened. Hana snuggled down into Logan’s armpit and immersed herself in the scent of him, his aftershave and deodorant and the underlying smell that was his, sweet hay and the breeze of the mountain. It made her feel safe and as she slept, her grip relaxed.
Hana woke up hours later. The light was dim and as she came round, Hana listened for the sounds of the house. She was alone in the bed, still laid on her side and uncomfortable. Logan’s arm had been replaced with a pillow. Hana sat up and ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes. A sick feeling took hold, pervading through her senses and forming as an iron weight in her stomach. She moved off the bed, acknowledging her desperate need for the bathroom and went down the hall. She had to go, it couldn’t be put off and after she flushed and washed her hands, she went looking for Logan. She didn’t call out. Instinct told her it would be a waste of time and she didn’t want to hear her own voice calling out fruitlessly in the empty house. A mix of misery and anger began to consume her as she checked every darkened room.
Each time she opened a door, hope burgeoned that she would find her husband, making a pot of tea, painting a wall or stoking the fire. But each room told the same empty story. In the hallway, Hana forced herself to acknowledge the missing bike helmet and leather safety gear. She gritted her teeth and stamped her foot, gripping her arms around her belly. “I can’t believe he snuck out. He’s so juvenile! I’m not his mother!” Yet it didn’t feel like a childish prank. It felt serious and Hana was afraid. She was also very, very angry with Logan. In fact, angry hardly covered it at all.
Hana sat in the bedroom and thought, despite the gathering storm of emotions. “I can’t believe he did that. I begged him to stay and he waited until I was asleep and went anyway.” She needed some kind of plan for dealing with the tumult inside her. “I’m not sitting here waiting for you to come back!” she shouted into the empty house. “How could you do that to me? I’m sick! Are you even coming back?”
The self-deprecation began immediately. Hana decided life was probably too hard with her and Logan had shot through. Inside she knew that wasn’t the case, but entertained the idea because it fuelled her anger and when she was angry, she wasn’t in tears. “You bloody left me, you pig!” she raged and kicked Logan’s bedside table, stubbing her toe and making herself crosser still.
Despite the stupidity of the plan which formed in Hana’s tired brain, it seemed to grow and take shape as an opportunity she didn’t want to miss. Logan had blown out on her yet again, leaving her alone and in the dark. “Fine then!” She pouted and stiffened her resolve. “Two can play at that game!”
Hana walked around putting lamps on and packing. She filled a case which contained a smattering of warm clothing and could be easily lifted in her weakened state. She took another tablet with a drink of tap water and convinced herself she felt much better already. Decisiveness was a fantastic antidote to fear and failure. “Screw you, Logan Du Rose!”
She texted Maihi, asking her to feed Tiger until Logan returned. She then texted Sheila, told her she was going away for a while to recuperate and apologised for the inconvenience. There were only a few days left of the term but to avoid the anxious replies from her friends, Hana turned off her phone. She locked up the house, activated the alarm and left. There was no sign of Logan on the dark roads into Hamilton, although Hana didn’t much expect to see him. He would have resorted to the mysterious underground world he receded into to get his answers from. “Get yourself killed then,” she said smugly, biting her lip to stem the inevitable tears at the thought of it. “See if I care!”
The roads were empty and a light sheen of rain glossed the tarmac making it slippery, so Hana took it carefully. The journey took her a full fifty minutes and then further time to park in the long stay car park. A light mist held over the Mystery Creek area, bathing Hamilton Airport in a sheer dusting of reflected light on the area outside the entrance. Hana shivered with cold and anticipation as she pulled her case inside. Half an hour later, her credit card had a dent in it of almost four hundred dollars and she had time to kill, while the growing fog delayed all flights out. The Flexi-plus deal only allowed her one carry-on bag of 7kg, so Hana was relieved she had hardly any clothes that still fitted her. Otherwise she may have been tempted to fill the case.
“Hopefully it won’t settle for too long, madam,” the flight desk operator said with apology in her voice. “We’ll call for boarding as soon as it lifts enough for take off.”
Shopping opportunities at the small airport were limited and Hana wandered aimlessly around for a while, killing time. She tried to detach herself from her current life, to forget that her husband had run out on her even though she begged him not to and that she was in her forties and pregnant. The thought reminded her to check out the toilets. It was the first of many visits that evening but the upside was, that as she was wide awake she was able to take the fourth of her antibiotics on time and the next one, some hours later. Hana grabbed herself a decaf coffee from the eatery on site and snagged herself a paperback book from the book store. It was a light-hearted novel with a jaunty cover and the promise of humour. Hana decided it was what she needed, a good laugh. It was almost thirty dollars and Hana stopped herself feeling guilty. Logan can afford it, she thought spitefully to herself, feeling guilty as soon as the thought was no longer captive. He had been a generous and kind husband and not denied her anything. Except himself. Hana pushed the guilt aside before the emotion which followed it threatened to drive her right back home again. No! She dug her heels in. She was going away, far away.
Hana allowed her mind to drift back to the house on the hill, lit up gently by lamplight with Tiger padding softly around looking for her. She felt tired and sad. Something inside her had become close to snapping and as Logan debated whether to stay or go earlier that night, Hana thought she had it back under control. She was so cross at him. No explanation, nothing. He hadn’t just nipped out for a carton of milk after all. He’d gone after Tama, or Laval, or...somebody; but nobody important enough to share with her. And he deliberately waited for her to trust him, which was unforgivable. Another of his giant, temporary fixes. Hana drew in her breath and resisted the urge to scream. Her husband was gorgeous, handsome, strong, commanding and passionate. And altogether a law unto himself.
The night passed slowly. Hana devoured the book and bought another one. She had just got stuck into the new novel when the call came for boarding. Hana wheeled her case towards the gate. It was underweight and Hana shrugged and stuffed the books into it. She could pass them onto her daughter.
Du Rose Legacy
Chapter 24
Hana emerged into the sunshine feeling groggy and exhausted, with another two visits to the airport bathrooms under her belt. Her little case trailed behind her. She wandered aimlessly until she found a taxi rank. Hovering for a moment, she approached the open window of the nearest one and gave Izzie’s address. The driver smiled and jumped from the car to stow Hana’s bag in the boot. He held the rear door open for her and she climbed in. “It won’t take long,” the smiling driver informed her. “Just round the corner really.”
The airport was only three kilometres away from the city, so as promised the ride was over in very little time. Izzie lived in an older part of town, on Drury Lane. Hana loved the flatness of the town and the neat perpendicular streets. There was an openness about it which made her instantly relax. The taxi pulled up outside the three bedroom weatherboard home which Marcus was able to use as a church pastor, along a long and seemingly endless road. Hana paid the driver with the cash she had snatched off Logan’s bedside table and stood on the street alone as the taxi became a small white blob in the distance. The winter sun felt warm on her face and Hana acknowledged her reluctance to move.
Eventually, she persuaded her feet
to walk forward down the grassy driveway to the house, trailing her case behind. It leapt and bumped over the uneven surface making her arm ache. There was a big old sedan parked outside the front door with a bright pink car seat in the back. Hana took a deep breath and kept encouraging her feet to move forwards, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl about to meet the headmaster.
One knock and the front door was flung open by a man with a piece of toast half way up to his mouth. Marcus. The toast stopped midway through its trajectory and a large gob of butter slid off the crust and onto the door mat. “Erm...hi...erm...” He turned around and shouted into the bowels of the house, “Izz, could you come here...IZZ!!!”
Hana stayed on the grass at the bottom of the steps feeling increasingly awkward. Perhaps Marcus wasn’t going to let her in. A great deal of grunting and shuffling ensued and he was joined at the door by Izzie, or what had been Izzie before it was taken over by a giant marshmallow. “Mum!” she shrieked, “Mum!!!”
She almost fell out of the front door in her efforts to embrace Hana, bellies bumping together uncomfortably and Izzie’s huge stomach seeming to be everywhere Hana turned. Marcus guffawed happily and stepped back out of the way so there was more room for Izzie to enfold her mother. “Izz, you clown!” he intervened eventually. “Let her go. You look like you’re trying to eat her.”
Izzie stepped back, tears and snot all down her beautifully sculpted face. Marcus came down the steps and offering an arm to both women, heaved them into the house where they became wedged in the front door. He laughed at the sight and bent double, making sounds like he was going to be sick. Izzie tried to lift one of her legs to boot him in the butt but couldn’t quite get it up there and gave up. She waddled her way down the hall into the bright kitchen, listing from side to side like a large trawler.
Hana heard the front door shut and the sound of Marcus trying to get a grip, but then she was suddenly in a bright room and in front of her was the most gorgeous sight. Her granddaughter sat in a high chair on the other side of the kitchen table. Her little bald head had sprouted a prolific ball of blonde fluff since Hana saw her last and two white pearly teeth were on display in a smiley, dribbly mouth. Her almond shaped eyes were wide and curious and she poked her extremely long tongue down to touch her chin. Hana inhaled a heady breath of happiness and reached out to stroke the beautiful face in the high chair. “Hi lovely. I’ve missed you so much, little angel.”
Elizabeth cooed and squealed happily and waved a piece of toast in her hand, which had jam stains on it but no jam. As Hana bent to kiss the fluffy little head, she noticed the absent jam splatted on the tiled floor.
Hana still trailed her case behind her and Marcus gallantly took the handle, at the same time as scooping Elizabeth out of her high chair and taking her down the corridor to clean up. He wore a black shirt and white dog collar that already showed a long streak of something greasy on the arm. He carried the baby and wheeled the case behind him in one fluid movement.
Izzie turned towards Hana full of questions, flapping her arms in front of her as though not knowing where to start. “Mum...how come...I mean, it’s great...why...?”
Hana felt dog tired and hadn’t showered for over twenty-four hours. It all caught up on her in one overwhelming rush, coupled with the now familiar desire to pee urgently. She put her head down, not knowing how to start and heard the hiccough come from her own mouth unbidden. Before Izzie had seen it coming, the dam walls broke and Hana sobbed fit to bust. Marcus stayed out of the way long enough to give his wife some space. He gave Elizabeth a good wash and change of clothes and then lay her down in her cot for her morning nap. She held fat little arms out towards him, feeling the contours of his face to compensate for her poor eyesight and then settled down on her side with her thumb plugged firmly in the gap. “Beautiful baby,” her daddy whispered quietly, stroking the fluffy hair and running his fingers down her spine.
Elizabeth shivered and made a little, “Mmmnnn,” noise and squeezed her blue eyes tight shut. Marcus covered her tenderly with the blankets and left the room. I’m a pastor, I can do this, he told himself over and over again as his steps took him nearer to the kitchen. He could still hear Hana’s violent sniffs as she tried to regain control and felt awkward. His feet slowed.
“Izz,” Marcus shoved his head in the doorway, getting eye contact only with his wife, “Bethie’s down for a bit, I’ve got some stuff to do in the church office. Erm, hi Hana.” He waved pathetically, a disjointed head around the doorframe and now a hand as well. “Bye!”
He was off and running and only vaguely heard what his wife said as he shot out of the front door. “Coward!” Izzie laughed and Hana felt mortified.
“I’m so sorry turning up like this. It was selfish of me and now I’ve driven him out of his own home.”
Izzie struggled up and laid an arm on Hana’s shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the answer to prayer, believe me. Poor guy’s glad to escape, to be honest. I wished for you so hard last night, I’m surprised you didn’t feel it. I am so sick and tired of this pregnancy and I think Marcus is sick of me! We had a massive row last night over toilet paper of all things. He says I’m going through too much! I ended up in tears, so did he and I cried like a baby, ‘I want my mum,’ and I think at one point he was saying it as well. Only he didn’t mean his mum, heavens no! I assume he meant you as well. So it’s no trouble really, please stay?”
Hana wiped her eyes on another wad of tissues which Izzie handed over and gratefully accepted the cup of tea that followed. She nodded once and Izzie visibly relaxed. “I’ll contribute to things if I can stay here,” Hana stated, then sniffed disgustingly, reaching for another tissue, “Yuk, sorry. Can I pay in toilet roll?”
Izzie laughed. “It was such a stupid row. I can’t see the holder and I also can’t see my...you-know-what so I probably am using too much. He keeps having to unblock the loo. Stay as long as you like, you don’t have to contribute anything, silly.” Izzie practically lurched at the chair and heaved herself into it. “I feel like Violet Beaureguarde at the moment, slowly turning into a blueberry. Everything’s swollen. If I put shoes on, I can’t get them off again an hour later. Nothing fits and I’m sure the water retention is so bad in places, I’m getting stretch marks!”
Hana giggled and Izzie carried on, encouraged by seeing her mother happier. “Marcus calls me the Weeble. I bet now you’re here, he’ll call us both Weebles, maybe he’ll feel like he’s collecting the set!”
“What’s your actual due date,” Hana asked Izzie, sipping her tea gratefully.
“It keeps changing,” Izzie said, sounding fed up. “I don’t know when I fell pregnant if the truth’s known. I just thought I was struggling to get the baby-weight off. It couldn’t have been long after Beth was born actually, which is...” she smirked, “well, you know, so they aren’t sure. Marcus was a bit insatiable. They think I’m about five weeks away.”
“I need to get you a telly for your bedroom,” Hana chortled quietly and Izzie laughed out loud.
“Says you! Yours must have been a honeymoon baby!”
Hana smiled and ran her hand over her bump. “I think so.”
“And how’s the daddy?” Izzie asked gently. Hana shrugged.
“Don’t know right now. He ran out on me last night on some stupid pretext and I’d had enough. So I left.”
Izzie’s eyes grew wide. “So he doesn’t know you’re here?”
Hana shrugged and tossed her hair. She looked about eighteen. Izzie chewed her lip, not sure what to do next. She wished Marcus would come home. He always knew what to do in a crisis. Izzie usually tried to have a lie down when Elizabeth had her nap, so she encouraged Hana to go and make herself at home in her room while she put her feet up. Hana felt guilty for putting her daughter out, especially now. Izzie looked extremely tired and her body appeared swollen and heavy to manoeuvre.
Hana found her suitcase in the room she used once before. It was light and airy with fitted wardro
bes and a double bed. Not huge, but it was clean and Marcus had got some fresh towels out for her. Hana looked in her suitcase. She had brought all of her make-up, a spare bra and about four pairs of knickers that still fitted her. Apart from that, there were the books, two of her jumpers, her only other pair of leggings and one of Logan’s jumpers. Also, his shirt, which she had been using for bed. No wonder her case was underweight; there was very little in it. Hana took off her boots and hung her overcoat in the wardrobe. She wandered down to the bathroom trying not to make too much noise. Then she sank down on the bed for some thinking time. And woke up five hours later.
Hana shuffled down to the kitchen following the sound of voices. Izzie and Marcus sat at the table and Elizabeth was back in the high chair singing quietly to herself and filling her face with bread and...
“Ugh, Marmite!” Hana exclaimed, putting her hand up to her mouth and considering the likelihood of vomiting. “Izzie, how could you?!”
Her daughter laughed and held her hands out in front of her in a gesture of innocence. “Not me Mama, her daddy is the Marmite freak.”
Hana looked at Marcus with distaste. “I knew there was a reason I never liked you.”
He grinned back at her. Hana plonked herself down on the nearest chair and rested her head in her hands. Marcus gave her an affectionate wink and carried on with what he was doing. He took a small red object and laid it over the knuckle of his index finger near to the nail and clicked it. Blood came straight out and he put the object down and dabbed at the blood with what looked like a small strip of litmus paper. Then he slotted the paper into part of a black, plastic pencil case type device and watched it for a moment. When it beeped, he took a reading and started messing around with syringes. “Still struggling?” Hana asked him tenderly and he shrugged and wrinkled his nose.
“They’re thinking of fitting a pump,” he said cautiously, “but I don’t like the idea of all the pipes and stuff. It’s sort of invasive somehow. And permanent.”