About Hana

by K T Bowes

Chapter 16

  Hana left work early on account of her saturated sandals growing painful as they dried. Blisters started where the straps met her foot, which was everywhere. Grant complained about Sheila and Rory after the paperweight cracked the glass in the office door and Dobbs hauled them off to his office.

  In the car, Hana drove barefoot. At the lights on Maui Street heading north, a brown leaf fluttered onto her windscreen and she felt depressed with the passing of summer. Autumn threatened and after that came winter. She missed the northern hemisphere seasons and the ability to break long winters with the promise of Christmas. Her mind strayed to Boxing Day and Elizabeth’s unexpected arrival on the floor of her bathroom. By the time the tiny girl came into the world, crying and squealing five weeks early, they already loved her despite knowing what lay ahead. The ambulance men shared looks of concern, not wanting to be the ones to burst their bubble. They shot glances at one another as they swaddled the tiny baby and helped Izzie onto their stretcher. Hana watched them wondering if the family realised the little girl had Down syndrome or whether they should mention it. The lights changed and Hana pressed on the gas. “We knew,” she murmured to herself. “And we didn’t care.”

  Indicating left after a fifteen minute drive, Hana pulled onto the hard shoulder, ready to enter her street. A black sedan followed close behind and she worried it might clip her bumper as she made the tight turn into her driveway. She slowed, indicating a warning, but her heart sank at the dreadful crunch which rocked her vehicle as the one behind ploughed into it. Hana jumped from her driver’s seat to view the damage, her head foggy from the whiplash action of her skull hitting the head rest.

  A tall blonde man emerged from the vehicle, exuding apologies. “Sorry, I didn’t see you indicate,” he said, holding his arms out wide.

  “I gave you plenty of warning,” Hana bit, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. “You followed much too close.”

  She watched as the passenger knelt down at the point where the vehicles still touched. His black hair glinted in the sunlight and oriental features pulled his face into a grimace.

  “Sorry,” the blonde man said again, but Hana detected insincerity in his tone and her heart rate increased further.

  “To hit me that hard, you must have sped up!” The words escaped without filter and she heard them and realised they made sense.

  The other man poked and prodded at the bumper before moving around Hana’s vehicle on his knees, looking underneath and tapping at the metal.

  “What are you doing?” Hana felt vulnerable and looked around her, willing one of her neighbours to appear. The empty street heightened her sense of aloneness. She felt trapped, her handbag on the passenger seat and the remote for the garage door in the glove box. The rear bumper of her car looked cracked across the centre, but the sedan appeared undamaged apart from a small scrape. Through her panic she tried to memorise the registration number of the black car, the letters and numbers rearranging in her mind. She reached into her vehicle for the keys and her phone and slipped them into her pocket.

  “We need to exchange insurance details,” she said to the blonde man, her words coming breathy and fast. “I’ll need your name and address.”

  “No, you don’t.” He edged closer and his face assumed a hardness, a sneer touching his lips. The dark haired man with the Asian features continued to move around the vehicle, poking underneath as he went.

  “Details please?” Hana demanded in her best school-voice. The blonde remained silent and bunched her against the vehicle as his companion banged around the outside panels. Tall and imposing, he cast Hana into shade. His face looked ruggedly handsome, punctuated by striking blue eyes framed with dark lashes. Something about him looked familiar and Hana stared longer than he liked. His eyes blazed and Hana gulped in fear. She changed tack. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter, it’ll be cheaper to fix it myself.”

  “Yeah?” The man moved closer until his chest obscured Hana’s vision of the street. He lifted angular fingers and stroked them down her cheek. “You’re pretty hot,” he whispered. “Pity.”

  Hana swallowed. “What’s a pity?”

  He smiled, a sliver of regret in the expression. The other man continued his intent examination, circling the Serena like a shark and shaking his head. Hana concentrated on breathing as the oddness of the situation communicated itself to her lungs and then the rest of her body. Nobody came to her aid. The intimidating blonde man kept her trapped in the space between the open driver’s door and his body but he didn’t touch her again. He smelled of an aftershave she recognised, but couldn’t recall and ash coloured stubble sprouted from the pores in his face. His latent hardness rendered his otherwise good looks unappealing.

  His companion got to his feet with a shake of his head, dusting his trousers to remove the road debris. “Nothing,” he spat with the hint of a Chinese accent. The blonde man used his body to push Hana so hard into the door, she heard it creak on its hinges as it took the strain of their combined body weight.

  “Where-is-it?” he hissed, stressing each word as though Hana might be intellectually limited. With each syllable, she felt his spittle land on her face and winced.

  Something snapped in her brain and she pushed him back with both hands full in the chest. “Get away from me!” she screamed.

  He stepped backwards while reaching to capture Hana’s flailing arms. His full weight went onto his back foot and crushed the neat patent shoe of his companion standing behind him. Knowing she didn’t have time to get home without them following, Hana slammed the driver’s door hard and bolted around the vehicle, running for her neighbour’s house and praying Andrea would be home.

  As she ran, Hana pointed the car keys over her shoulder and pressed the remote control to activate the vehicle alarm. It didn’t sound, confused by the growing distance between her and it, but she heard the central locking click to deny the men access. The blonde man grappled with the driver’s door handle, swearing in temper.

  Hana didn’t linger at Andrea’s front door. She bolted around the side and into the back garden, terrifying Andrea’s husband Paul as he emerged from the kitchen door with a washing basket. He dropped it in fright. The empty basket bounced on the concrete and hundreds of wooden pegs scattered far and wide. “I thought I heard you come home,” he began as he bent to gather the pegs. “What was that bang?”

  The open kitchen door behind Paul consumed Hana’s attention and she pushed past him and into the safety of the house. Once inside, panic seized her body and adrenaline rendered her incoherent.

  “Andrea’s not home yet.” Paul left the few remaining pegs on the ground and stepped over the threshold, eyeing Hana with a nervous expression. “She told me to get the washing in.” Hana watched as he winced and knew he summoned his wife by a sheer act of will. “She said it might rain. It’s not though, is it?”

  Hana watched, one hand gripping the other as she struggled to stem the awful tremors. Paul edged towards his mobile phone on the counter. “She said they forecasted rain, so she left Ryan in the cot and drove to school to fetch Carlie and Daniel.”

  Hana’s brain worked on overdrive and she noticed the open ranch slider. Darting across she slammed it closed and clicked the lock home. Paul’s eyes widened in terror as though she might be a psychopath. “She won’t be long.” His voice raised at the edges. “She’s knows we’re here.”

  “Shut up, shut up, please.” Hana spun around, trying to see over their ivy covered fence to the street.

  “I need to get the washing.” Eyes widening at the flat battery on his phone and nowhere near the land line, Paul made a bid for escape, prepared to leave his sleeping baby in the back bedroom with a serial killer. “I left it out yesterday and Andrea got very cross.”

  “I don’t care.” Hana cast around her. “I need to call the cops.”

  “Oh, great!” he looked relieved. “You want the cops?”

  “Of course I want the bloody cops!” Hana shr
ieked. “Two men just dinged my car and one of them touched me.”

  “Oh, shit!” Paul said. “My phone’s dead.”

  The barefoot Hana paced around the kitchen while Paul located the handset for the land line. “It was in the bathroom,” he admitted with a grimace. “But it’s been there since yesterday so it needs time to charge.”

  Hana sank to the sofa with her head in her hands. Feeling under fire, Paul decided to investigate and wandered around to the front of the property, whereupon Hana locked him out. As he examined Hana’s car, dumped half on her driveway and half on the pavement, Andrea spun round the corner and bounced onto their own driveway, her wipers working to dismiss the raindrops on the windscreen. “Did you even get the bloody washing in?” she snapped and he shook his head. “No. And her from next door’s locked me out.”

  With capable female ingenuity, Andrea lifted the garage door using the remote from her glove box and left Paul to heft the children from the car. She hurried through the internal access door into the kitchen where she found Hana perched on the edge of the old sofa in the corner, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. Some time later, Paul entered carrying Daniel and what appeared to be a paper snow-storm, Carlie trailing behind grizzling with a sticky lolly glued to her hand.

  “I’ve called the cops,” Andrea told him. “The other bloody handset was only in the bedroom.” She cocked her head at the sound of a baby crying and jerked her head towards the door. “Get Ryan for me please?”

  “But I’m supposed to be working from home.” Paul’s eyes bugged and Hana felt the tension in the room hike.

  “I’m fine,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll go home and call Bodie.”

  “No you won’t!” Andrea snapped. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in six months.” She pressed Hana back into the seat and glared at her husband. Paul looked insulted and wandered away to fetch the squalling baby which he dumped on Andrea who then plied him on Hana..

  Hana remembered her own mobile in her skirt pocket and used it to call Bodie’s number, choosing not to leave a message. “He’ll only worry if he’s on duty,” she said, her tone sad. When her phone chirped seconds later, she balanced baby Ryan over her shoulder and answered it, expecting to hear her son’s voice. She got Boris.

  “Hey my vriend, vould you like to come for dinner zis evening? I am cooking and wezzer is miserable. Vas going to be BBQ but not nice. I do bratwurst indoors now.”

  Hana made feeble, pathetic excuses while the baby grabbed for the phone. Andrea reached over and Hana thought she might reclaim her child, but instead she took the phone and spoke into it, giving Boris a brief rundown of events. “We’re just waiting for the cops,” she added.

  Hana groaned. “I didn’t want him to know any of that.”

  “Don’t be daft.” Andrea swapped the phone for her baby. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  The police responded within half an hour, even though the two men were long gone. Paul moved Hana’s vehicle into the garage at her request and received a telling off from the officer. “You should’ve left it where it was, sir,” he told him in a stern tone. “It’s better for us to see it in situ and now your prints are on it.”

  Paul threw his hands up in the air with irritation. “I moved it off the footpath,” he complained. He postured in the corner until Andrea released him back into his office to continue his work.

  “Mad professor,” she whispered to Hana, as though the explanation helped.

  Andrea’s children seemed fascinated with the police officers, both male and imposing. The baby crawled onto the sofa and tried to make free with the curly radio wire on the younger of the two. The older policeman eyed Hana with a knowing look and she squirmed in discomfort. “You’ve had a few calls recently, miss,” he said, knitting his bushy black brows. “First someone tried to mug you and then we took a call when someone vandalised your windscreen. Now this.”

  “Mugged?” Andrea’s eyes widened in shock. “You didn’t tell me someone mugged you!”

  “They tried to take my bag and didn’t get it.” Hana swallowed and fixed her attention on the officer.

  “What did they want?” he asked for the third time in ten minutes. “They must have said something. Nobody crawls around under a vehicle they just hit without reason. Can you remember upsetting anyone?” he pressed. “This is too much of a coincidence. Are you sure you can’t think of anyone? No niggling disputes or unpleasantness? No ex-husbands or estranged boyfriends?”

  Hana’s face hardened at the mention of ex-husbands and her hands balled at her sides. The officer continued his tirade. “That registration number you gave us is not coming up either. Are you sure you remembered it right?”

  “I’m going home,” Hana declared, getting to her feet.

  “We haven’t finished.” The officer matched her stance, notebook at the ready. A knock on the front door interrupted his train of thought and Hana sidled towards the gap Andrea left as she answered it. She returned to the kitchen trailed by Logan, Boris and Peter North

  “What’s happening?” Pete demanded. “Oh, sorry.” He wafted his hand behind his bum and the baby gagged behind him. “Geez, that was a bad curry!”

  The police retreated to Hana’s garage to examine her car and returned to deliver the usual patter. “Ring us if you think of anything. You’re required to sign a written statement. We’ll be in touch with further developments.” The older man nodded, fixed his hat back on his bald head and departed with his offsider.

  “They don’t believe me!” Hana’s voice contained an unattractive whine and she closed her eyes in frustration. “I can tell.” She set off towards the front door. “Hey, sorry everyone for the fuss. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

  Everyone stopped and stared at her in surprise.

  “Stay here,” Andrea offered.

  “No, stay viz us,” Boris insisted. “Wir habe ein guest room.”

  “Thank you. I want to go home, feed the cat, take some pills for my banging headache and forget about this afternoon.”

  “I’ll walk you home.” Logan’s gentle voice soothed her beneath the din of everyone else’s objections. His steady, stroking touch on her wrist offered her reassurance and Hana felt a wave of gratitude.

  “I’ll come,” Pete insisted.

  “Me too.” Boris took a guard position opposite Logan.

  “Not with that ass!” Logan wrinkled his nose. “You can stay outside, North.”

  When Hana emerged from her bedroom having washed her face and changed her clothes, she found the men raiding the fridge and North clanging around with the electric frying pan. They sat around the dining table as dusk thickened and turned into night, eating bacon and fried eggs. “Can I have yours?” Pete asked, nudging Hana with his elbow. She nodded and pushed her plate towards him, her appetite gone. Between them, the men polished off the best part of two loaves of bread, a dozen eggs and a packet of bacon. Logan gave Hana encouraging smiles when the others weren’t looking and kept his knee resting against hers beneath the table.

  As the silence grew, Hana forced herself to make an effort. “I’m sorry,” she conceded. “There’s so much going round in my head, I can’t think straight.”

  Boris suggested writing down everything she remembered, like a true school teacher. Pete opted to write in his scrawled hand, jotting down dates and incidents.

  “That cop said someone mugged you.” Logan’s brow furrowed. “Is that why you had a cut lip and marks on your neck?” He glared at Pete, who shrugged.

  “I didn’t know. Nobody tells me anything!”

  “Yeah.” Hana touched the space on her throat which hurt for days. “I kept it hidden but it’s gone now.”

  “So,” Boris summarised, snatching the list from Pete. “Ze first attackers said nussing significant to Hana as zey tried to take her handbag, but Hana recalls zat zey vere hanging around ze truck. She assumed zat it vas to jump out at her, but vat if zey had been interested in
somesing inside ze truck?”

  “Logan, can’t you find something out? You know, with your contacts,” Pete began, wiggling his eyebrows. The look Logan shot him killed the sentence on his thin lips. Hana looked at the tall, good-looking man sideways and realised how little she knew about him.

  Boris continued, but Pete interrupted him so often he gave up. “The second incident involving the brick through the windscreen came soon after the attempted mugging, but happened in daylight. They didn’t try to get into the vehicle but left you a warning.” Pete’s animation rattled Hana’s nerves.

  “I’m glad my life is so entertaining,” she bit as the men continued to debate her circumstances.

  “There’re more discreet ways of getting into a vehicle like that,” Logan contributed, causing Hana to raise her eyebrows.

  “Could you do it?” Pete demanded and Logan nodded.

  “Yeah. It’s easy. Why not look at the truck when it’s parked somewhere else? They could break in and take whatever they wanted. They want Hana involved; they want her to know what they’re doing. What did the guy say to you, Hana?” Logan asked, fixing his grey eyes on her face.

  Her voice sounded tired as she answered. “The blonde man said something similar to the note on the brick. Something like, ‘Where is it?’ But then I ran, so I’ve made it look like I know what they want.” Hana sighed, realising her escape had compounded the illusion of guilt.

  “What was that guy doing underneath?” Pete commented, sounding frustrated.

  “I took a look,” Logan said. “The cops want to fingerprint it, so it’s hard without touching. I couldn’t see anything apart from the marks where you keep that little magnet thing. It’s fallen off by the way.”

  Hana’s face showed confusion. “What magnet thing?”

  “You know, the metal box with the spare key in it. I’ve got one stuck on the farm truck with a magnet. The stockmen know where it is and put it back after they use it. I noticed last time we hoisted it to change the clutch that it left awful scratchy marks on the paintwork where they drag it off and put it back. Your car’s got those marks right underneath the driver’s door.”

  “I don’t keep a spare key on the car!” Hana responded with sarcasm in her voice. “Not with a cop for a son. He’d think I’d gone nuts!”

  “Your son’s a cop?” Logan asked, his brow furrowing. A look of discomfort crossed his face.

  “Yes. Why?” Hana felt defensive and challenged him but he masked his thoughts with a blank look.

  “No reason. It’s just a question.”

  “Maybe the previous owner kept losing their keys so used the magnet thing,” North suggested, but Logan shrugged.

  “Whatever. The marks from it are fresh and clean. No dirt, no rust. So unless you steam cleaned the underside of your car in the last six months, you’ve been carrying around a magnetised box of some description.”

  “So where is it then?” asked Hana, standing up to clear the table. Her patience grew thin with the interrogation and tiredness crept over her head like a blanket. She needed her guests to leave so she could contemplate alone and try Bodie again on his mobile.

  The men washed up and loaded the dishwasher, displaying a reluctance to leave despite her protestations that Andrea and Paul were only next door. “I’ll ring Bodie again,” she promised. “As soon as you leave.”

  Boris fetched his car from next door’s driveway and Peter North gave her an awkward but sincere hug. He ruined it by tripping over his untied shoelaces, falling down the front steps and waking the dead with his cursing. He pulled a large piece of hedging from the back of his pants and threw it onto the lawn. “See you tomorrow, Hana,” he said. He wafted a hand behind his backside again and shook his head.

  “Will you be okay?” Logan sat on the bottom step like a child to zip his cowboy boots up and Hana felt an unexpected moment of longing.

  “I think so,” she replied, peering out into the dark street. “It doesn’t feel good that someone wants to hurt me.”

  “Yeah. I bet.” He stood and rested a hand on her shoulder. Hana saw the concern in his eyes and bit her lip. She wanted him to kiss her again, to smooth away the day’s events in a whirlpool of passion but he didn’t. “Don’t answer the door to anyone,” he insisted. Hana felt warmth play on her cheeks as she contemplated asking him to stay. But the moment passed. “Tell the cops about the scratches under the car,” he said. “It’s worth a shot.”

  Hana shrugged in dismissal. “You saw them. They didn’t listen to me. In their eyes it’s a petty grudge or a series of coincidences. I can’t ring and tell them that.”

  “But these guys sound dangerous.” Logan’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head.

  “I’ll be fine.” Irritation crept into Hana’s voice. “I’ll keep calling Bodie. He’ll be on a night dive but he’ll answer when he can. The local police won’t be interested in scratches under the car which I can’t swear weren’t there before. Vik bought it ten years ago.”

  Logan shook his head. “The scratches are newer than that. Your mechanic might remember. Want me to ring him?” Logan dragged his thumb down Hana’s cheek and the action made her want to scream with frustration. Her answer sounded biting.

  “No. I don’t want to involve him. I carried on using Doug after Vik died but I make appointments through the parts shop, get his junior to pick up the car and pay online.”

  “Why?” Logan’s eyes narrowed.

  Hana snapped. “Because he always wants to talk about Vik and I don’t! I’m not ringing him and nor are you.”

  “Why don’t you use a different garage?” Logan’s question seemed so logical, Hana couldn’t argue.

  “I can’t. He does a good job.” She licked her top lip and glared at the wall, ending the conversation. She regretted the words which betrayed her imprisonment to a life long gone and felt hopelessness and self-pity descend on her shoulders.

  “Oh, Hana.” Logan leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He lingered, the smell of his fading aftershave musky and addictive.

  Hana’s heart fluttered in her chest and she craved more of him. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She opened her mouth to speak, but he gave a casual shrug, missing the cue and leaving. “Lock it after me,” he ordered, closing the door behind him.

  Hana listened to his footsteps walk down the stairs and onto the driveway. She stood behind the door listening to Boris’ car door open and close and the engine rev as the vehicle drove away. She stood in the dark, lacking the energy to move or lock the front door. A numbness gripped her like something just finished and left her grieving. Rousing herself, she turned the key in the lock and hung it on the back of the door in its usual place. She made her way upstairs to the kitchen as her phone finished its orchestral dance on the bench top.

  Checking the missed call she saw Bodie’s number, but didn’t ring him back. She wasn’t his responsibility, just his mother. Hana missed her husband’s companionship and his ability to take control of problems and make them right. She felt his memory shrouding her and condemning her attraction to Logan. “Did you mean for me to end up alone?” she asked the empty room filled with his ghost. Her own answer brought no comfort. “Yes. You did.”

  Bodie texted later. ‘What’s wrong? I’m on a date. She’s nipped to the bathroom.’

  Hana texted back, lying to him and telling him she just fancied a chat. Against all sensible advice, she downed a large glass of white wine and took some out-of-date sleeping pills. Huffing at the best before date of eight years ago, Hana swallowed them with the alcohol and hoped for the best. She’d either sleep or die.

  She checked the doors and windows before the pills took effect. She also shut curtains she never worried about and double checked the doors again. Hana turned away from the front window only seconds before the truck slid into the street, turning at the top of the cul-de-sac and parking opposite her house. Its lights winked out, but no driver emerged.

  The street settled for the night
. Lights dwindled in the houses one by one and went out as occupants retired to bed. The darkness became dense and blue-black as clouds obscured the quarter moon. The occasional squawk from a pukeko punctuated the silence as it moved around in the reeds of a nearby lake, worried by the whirr of a morepork’s wings as it hunted for dinner. The driver opposite scanned the street from his vehicle, alert and ready. A gloved hand turned the radio on and when its display lit up like a Christmas tree, switched it off again.

  The out-of-date sleeping tablets did their job. Hana fell into bed just in time and woke hours later in the same position. She dreamed she heard noises in the garden outside her bedroom window and fought a monster who climbed over the gate.

  The earth turned and night progressed as God decreed. The morepork caught his mate a juicy mouse and the pukeko gave up trying to rescue the fallen twig and settled down in the reeds.