About Hana

by K T Bowes

Chapter 49

  Hana clumped over the soft soil of the playing fields, her boot heels sticking in the mud. Boys milled around and she listened to their entertaining conversations. Their height and bulk sheltered her, offering a false sense of safety and Hana forgot everything apart from the excitement of seeing Anka. Some boys walked alone, heads down as they ran through their own thoughts in glorious oblivion. Others jostled and chatted in tight, insular groups. At the end of the field, Hana hesitated, following the flood of boys into a narrow lane. It terminated on a wide street and they turned left and right, dispersing to nearby streets with cheerful waves and cocky retorts to each other. Unsure, Hana halted and the throng carried her forwards, trapping her amidst a group which turned right.

  “Excuse me.” Hana tapped the arm of a boy she recognised and he stopped in front of her, his friends hovering nearby. “I wanted Brook Road.” She frowned and reached for her handbag zip. “Maybe it’s Brook Street.”

  “Ah yeah.” The boy nodded. He waved his arm in an obtuse arc. “You follow that road to the end and then turn left.” He looked down at her shoes. “It’s quite far, miss. You gonna be okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Hana gave him a wobbly smile and followed the direction of his wave, pulling her long coat tighter against the stiff wind.

  She set off walking and kept going, recognising road names from her internet search. An older part of town she didn’t know passed by, daylight abandoning her to the fate of intermittent streetlamps. With darkness came an increasing sense of unease and Hana clattered along, her heels clicking against the pavement. The sign for Brook Street loomed in the distance and Hana picked up her pace, trying not to slip on the wet ground as she broke into a run. “Stop, stop,” she urged herself, seeing a driver slow down to stare at her. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.” All sense of bravado abandoned her as she thought of the men hunting her and realised how stupid she’d been.

  The entrance to Brook Street couldn’t come soon enough. Hana made the turn and left the main road behind, the dark street eerie with its flickering lamps and shadowy lawns. Number twelve identified itself as a rental property, the weed patch in the front garden long and unkempt. The door longed for treatment, the paint peeling away from the edges. Hana pressed the doorbell with a shaking finger and heard nothing.

  She gave up and clattered down the path towards the road, feeling foolish. The lights of a car blinded her and Hana jumped back as the vehicle spun onto the cracked driveway. The engine died with an unhealthy splutter and Anka slipped from the vehicle. She gave Hana a quick glance and waved her hand at the car. “Ivan kept the Beema,” she spat.

  Hana stared at the old Toyota and gave an ineffectual nod. Her eyes roved over Anka’s body, noticing the considerable weight loss covered by the slick skirt and jacket. She glided up the front steps as though the rickety boards didn’t need attention, her high heels digging into the rotten wood. Anka offered no other greeting, shoving her key into the lock and pushing the door open with a great creak. Hana watched from the driveway as Anka flicked a switch, flooding the tatty interior with light. She stuck her head outside and jerked it in Hana’s direction. “Are you coming in, or what?”

  Hana took a deep breath and followed, avoiding the gaping hole in the porch steps. Once inside she bent to undo the zip on her boots. Anka stopped her with a hand on her sleeve. “Leave them on or you’ll freeze.” Hana stood and followed her down a long hallway, finding herself in a small kitchen. Anka rested her bum against a cupboard. “Would you like a drink?”

  Hana’s fraught nerves flooded with relief. She nodded. “Do you have tea?”

  An hour later, they sat at the dining table in some semblance of friendship. Hana explained everything about her recent excitement in a spirit of honesty and Anka listened. “I don’t know what the men want,” Hana concluded. She turned her palm over and showed her the healing wound. “Seven stitches says it’s something major.”

  Anka sighed with tiredness, rubbing her eyes with her hand and smudging her makeup. “I’m sorry I abandoned you.” She lowered her eyes to the untouched biscuits on the plate between them and tears made her eyes sparkle.

  “How are you managing?” Hana asked, reaching for her hand. “I can get some money together if you need it. You know I don’t mind.”

  “I know.” Anka squeezed her fingers. “It’s not the money. I got work at an osteopath’s office.” She sniffed and worked hard to change the subject. “I’m enjoying the job. It’s less stressful than school. So, whose wedding are you going to?”

  Hana looked at the men’s socks hanging on the airer by the back door and faltered. “You live with Tama?” she asked and Anka’s eyes hardened.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might.” Hana swallowed. “If I’m marrying Logan.”

  Anka leaned forward, her eyes wide with amazement. “What? Why?”

  Despite herself, Hana laughed. “Because I love him,” she spluttered. “Why else?” Worry shrouded her happiness. “But please don’t give the game away. You’ll hurt me more than you can imagine.”

  Anka nodded, the motion slow and deliberate. “Okay, Hana. I’ll say nothing.” Her smile looked strained and forced, but Hana had come too far not to believe her. “Let’s find you a dress.”

  Hana spent the next hour in her bra and knickers, trying outfits one after the other. She became desperate, believing she might end up getting married to a hunk like Logan in her jeans and paint stained tee shirt. “He’ll think I didn’t bother!” she wailed, pulling off the last dress in response to a shake of Anka’s head.

  From the back of the wardrobe, Anka dug out a bottle green dress and held it up in front of her. “I never wore this,” she confessed. “Something in the earthiness of the green against my skin made me look dirty, but with your striking auburn hair, I think this could be it.” Anka held it out and Hana hesitated. “This is it, Hana. It’s the only thing you haven’t tried. I own nothing else.”

  Fitted and dainty, the dress comprised a swishy fabric which swayed when Hana moved. The layered material cast shadows of darker and lighter tones. Nipped in at the waist, it showed a lot of leg, but the long sleeves would keep out the autumnal chills outside the registry office. Anka broke open a new packet of sheer tights which offered a suntanned look and handed Hana two of the three pairs. Hana tried to hand one back, but Anka waved it away. “Take both in case of last minute ladders.”

  Around five o’clock, Anka’s mood changed and she became increasingly distracted. Hana sensed the intimacy between them draw to a close. Hana collected the dress into a carrier bag and readied herself for leaving. “Is everything okay?” she asked Anka as her friend shoved her towards the front door.

  “Fine,” Anka snapped. “You should go now.” She pushed Hana onto the front steps and something in her eyes made Hana alarmed.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded and Anka shook her head.

  “All the best for Friday,” she said, her voice sounding strained. Hana hugged her, feeling bones beneath her embrace.

  “If you need me, text,” she called as Anka closed the door in her face.

  Once in the street, the darkness shrouded Hana like a thick cloak. She didn’t know this part of town and panicked. Guessing she shouldn’t use the narrow lane and playing fields back to school, she readied herself for a long walk. Defeated, she set off towards the lights of the main road. An old scooter zipped past her and slowed. Hana stopped and watched it bounce over the kerb and into Anka’s driveway. Through the branches of a bare tree, Hana saw a side view of Tama as he hopped from the scooter and skipped up the porch steps. Despite the muscles and bravado, he looked like a child. A foolish, love-struck child. Hana felt sadness descend on her shoulders, a weight of responsibility for Tama, Anka and the snare they created for themselves. “Trapped,” Hana whispered, holding her cold hands up to her mouth. The word clarified itself in condensation against the biting air. Anka had wandered into the oldest trap in the devil�
�s book.

  Hana caught a bus travelling anticlockwise on the Orbiter route and got off at the last stop she could. She walked for ten minutes before getting anywhere near the school. She looked at her watch and saw the time move past six o’clock, panicking that Angus might have left without her. Hana paused under a streetlight and poked around in her handbag, searching for her phone. She pulled it out with a sigh of relief and pressed the button to activate the screen. It lit up, but the functions refused to respond. “What do you mean, no service?” Hana groaned. “How can there be no service?” She looked around her for answers, finding nothing.

  Deciding not to panic as an act of will, Hana kept walking along the rural road, focussing on the bright lights in the distance. They shone out onto Maui Street like a haze, highlighting the blackness enclosing the rest of the town. Traffic increased and she felt heartened to see vehicles buzzing in and out of the gates like bees returning to the hive. Her foolish expedition coincided with a community education night and Hana felt her mood of doom lift. The carrier bag containing the dress bounced against her coat and she convinced herself Angus would still be there.

  Hana saw his empty parking slot from the gate and the heady sense of foreboding returned. She checked her own in case he’d parked there instead, but a car she didn’t recognise occupied it. He didn’t wait for her. Hana stopped on the pavement and watched the vehicles pass, knowing she used all her cash on the bus ride. She didn’t have enough for a trip to Alder Dale. “Think, think!” she hissed, looking for a solution. Her fingers pushed into her handbag and closed around her office keys. Hana turned and walked towards the main building in the distance, stopping to allow traffic to pass before crossing the lane.

  She became aware of the car before she saw it, evil hanging over it like a fog. It slid around the corner away from her, travelling with exaggerated slowness. The brake lights flicked on and off as the driver paused to watch people. Hana’s breath stuttered into her lungs in panicked gasps and she misread the edge of the curb, almost falling under the wheels of another vehicle. “Sorry, sorry!” She waved her hand in apology and stepped back. The BMW slid around the turning circle and she saw the oriental features of the driver lit up in the reflected glow of oncoming headlights. Hana’s fingers fumbled the wide hood of her coat up and over her head, masking her distinctive red hair. She forced herself to stare at the ground as the car passed by.

  It drove past so slowly she held her breath, hearing her heart beat out a warning tattoo. At any moment, she expected the blonde man to appear and drag her into the car. Hana squeezed her eyes shut against the memory of his flick knife, knowing he might just slit her throat instead. Distracted by a toddler wriggling from its mother’s grasp and running into his path, the driver slammed on the brakes. Hana gasped, feeling relief flood through her as the woman hefted her child out of harm’s way. “You must never do that!” the woman screeched, hysteria in her voice. Hana turned away from the spectacle and crossed the road behind the BMW, her legs feeling as though they belonged to someone else. The lights from the main building encouraged her on and she muffled the sound of her moans of fear with a firm hand over her mouth.

  “Not far now,” she promised herself, focussing on the front doors. “Just a little further.” Fear blinded her, allowing her only one point of reference in her vision and Hana concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping the door handles in view. “Almost there,” she whispered to herself.

  Hana didn’t dare look back. She kept walking against the flow as everyone else headed to classrooms on the periphery of the site. To help her stay calm, she recalled the list of various adult courses on offer and tried to pick her favourite, unable to choose between Italian for beginners and Chinese cooking. Everything in her wanted to run, but she stopped herself, knowing it would draw unwanted attention.

  Hana fell against the front doors, finding as she grappled with the handles they wouldn’t open. Her breath came in gasps as her panic ran out of control. She wrenched at the rigid door handle without success, knowing she didn’t have a front door key. The firm grip on her right arm sent her into orbit. “No!” she cried.

  Hana lashed out, startling Pete and catching him in the eye with her hand. He swore and opened his mouth to complain, halting as he saw distress reflected in her face. “What’s wrong, Hana?” he asked, rubbing his eye and righting his wonky head bandage.

  She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened and she hyperventilated on the steps. Pete glanced behind him and then back at Hana. “Stop, Hana. People are staring. They’ll think I’m kidnapping you.”

  As she stumbled sideways, he grabbed her arm. “Come round here,” he hissed, looking over her shoulder. “Do you want me to get Logan?”

  The plastic bag containing the dress banged against Hana’s leg and a sob escaped the boundary of her palm as it pressed against her mouth. “No,” she gasped. “He’ll hate me.”

  Pete guided Hana to a side entrance, shoving her up the steps and unlocking the door. Lit up like a Christmas tree, the corridor inside made her panic further, convinced the men would continue their search on foot. She ducked down beneath the level of the windows and Pete’s eyes widened as he understood her anxiety. “They’re here?” he demanded. “Those dudes are here?”

  Hana nodded and squatted against the wall, hugging her makeshift wedding dress to her chest. The coat hood hid her face but the wracking sobs couldn’t be mistaken for anything but misery and terror. Pete locked the outer door behind them and cast around for an escape.

  “In here!” He used his master key on a single door between two classrooms and shoved his way into the room. Hana crawled across the floor, dragging her bags behind her. “They’re out there,” she cried, her sounds like those of a wounded animal. “They’re here for me!”

  Pete dragged her inside and closed the door. He activated his mobile phone as a torch and put his finger over his lips. “The light bulb hasn’t worked for ages in here,” he whispered. The pathetic light lit up his face from below like a ghoul and Hana focussed on something else to prevent her releasing the scream building in her throat. Gym equipment lined the walls and a basketball hung from a discarded soccer net. Hana pressed the plastic bag against her eyes and wished herself somewhere else. Another country. Another life.

  Pete waited until the sounds of foot traffic and laughing voices outside died down. Then he made a phone call.

  Angus refused to send Logan and arrived on his own, unlocking the cupboard and collecting a rumpled Hana from the floor. “Logan’s at my place,” he whispered in Hana’s ear. “You’re safe now.”

  “Oh.” Pete looked disappointed. “I wanted Logan to see me do something good for Hana,” he said, his lips turning downwards. “Where is he?”

  Angus rolled his eyes. “Do you think Logan arriving like the cavalry would be the best idea, Pete? You don’t suspect that might draw more attention to Hana’s presence?”

  Pete shrugged. “Maybe. But he’s missed me being a hero now.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and sloped into the corridor.

  “No, he hasn’t.” Angus patted his shoulder and locked the cupboard behind them. “He knows how amazing you are and he’s very grateful.”

  “Is he?” Pete grinned and touched the bandage on his head. “Will he let me take Henri out in his Triumph?”

  Angus winced. “Perhaps not that grateful,” he muttered under his breath. He flapped his hand at Pete. “Why are you still at school?”

  Pete bounced on the balls of his feet. “Boris took my car home because the doctor said I can’t drive. Henri’s cancelled her flight to the south island. She’s picking me up in a while. I think I might get lucky tonight.”

  “Och, how delightful,” Angus replied, looking like he’d sucked a lemon. He led Hana towards the outer door. He leaned into her ear. “I wonder if the doctor’s seen his driving, because he’s right. He can’t drive.”

  Hana swallowed, unable to summon up even a nod of agree
ment. Angus tried to take the bag from her hand and she yanked it away. “No!” she hissed, her tone threatening. “It’s all about this, can’t you see that?”

  “About the bag?” Angus’ eyes widened and he teased it from Hana’s hand, peering inside even though she kept a tight hold of it. “The men want this green dress?” He raised a ginger eyebrow and Hana groaned in frustration. “Okay, let’s get you home,” he conceded, his eyes rounding with kindness. “Everything will be fine there.”

  Pete and Angus smuggled Hana out the side entrance. They scurried past lighted classrooms filled with adults learning skills they missed at school and paid hard currency for later. It seemed ironic. “I hid my car by the boarding house,” Angus puffed as Pete acted as lookout. “The back gate is locked so nobody parks there.” He deactivated his central locking and left Pete to put Hana in the car, bewildered when she catapulted in headfirst from Pete’s hefty shove and almost landed in his lap. “Thanks, Mr North,” he called, taking off so fast the passenger door closed itself.

  The back gate rolled open as Angus’ distinguished car reached it and he floored the gas, breaking the sound barrier on minor arterial roads. Hana closed her eyes against the sensation of sickness and Angus grinned like a moron all the way up the expressway. “I’ve wanted to do that for the last year,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s one thing to know what one can do and quite another to prove it.”

  Logan paced up and down outside Angus’ tiny unit, wearing a rut in the front lawn. His face looked livid, his grey eyes wild and flashing. He thanked Angus with forced civility but bundled Hana into the Honda without speaking to her. She moved beyond her wild panic to a state of childlike anxiety. She sniffed into the hanky with kiwis round the fringe and clutched her wedding dress in a death grip. Her wrist ached and her palm felt sore, compounding her misery. She’d been stupid and Logan would dump her and call off the wedding.

  He drove, slipping into Rototuna and north to Ngaruawahia via Horsham Downs and Lake Road. Hana pressed her face into the handkerchief and tried not to make audible crying sounds, noticing he picked up River Road much later than usual.

  Logan clicked the remote as they pulled onto the driveway and the gate slid open with ease. Hana glanced at the post box but thought better of it as the car jumped up the gravel. Logan didn’t wait for the delay, but pressed the remote again and the gate closed behind them. Once at the house, he locked Hana in the car and checked every room of the old villa.

  Hana used the interlude to wipe the tears from her face and bravely await her spectacular dumping. Logan’s anger preceded him like a swarm of bees as he ran down the steps towards the car. He offered her his hand and leaned in to pick up her bags. Locking the car behind him, he followed her up the steps into the house and closed the door with his foot. Hana heard the lock click shut.

  Her boots looked filthy and caked with loose mud, the pointed toes scuffed and stained. A giggle burst from Hana’s lips as hysteria bubbled near the surface. She clapped her hand over her mouth, wincing as the plastic bag hit her in the chin. “You’re stuck here,” she said, feeling a laugh work its way up her throat. “Will you dump me and walk home?” She snorted, the sound incongruous in the tension. “Sorry, sorry.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb and concentrated on the pain of the pinch to refocus her.

  “You think this is funny?” Logan’s jaw worked, creating lines in his cheek. Hana couldn’t look at him. She noticed a hole in his sock, his big toe peeking through. Something about the sight caused her to reach breaking point and laughter burst from her lips.

  It sounded hysterical even to her own ears, wrought from her body as though by an unseen hand which pulled it out on the end of a magician’s thread. Logan’s eyes flashed and he stomped to the kitchen where Hana heard him switch on the kettle to boil. Her laughter subsided, leaving behind an extreme emptiness and a wretched misery which turned to tears and dismay. Still clutching the bag, Hana slipped off her boots and kicked them aside. She padded to the bedroom and closed the door.

  She exchanged her work clothes for the tatty monkey pyjamas, admiring the pretty wallpaper as she climbed into bed. The green dress spewed from the plastic bag, casting itself in green waves over the sheets. Hana snuggled into the safety of her bed and blocked out the world, letting the day’s events run before her inner vision. “Everything’s a big mess,” she whispered.

  Logan knocked on the door and Hana heard the clink of crockery. She didn’t answer and he entered, anyway. “I brought you toast,” he said, laying a plate on the bedside table. “I think I made your tea how you like it.”

  Hana smelled the toast and kept her eyes closed, feeling the mattress sag as Logan sat next to her. He said nothing else and Hana tensed. “If you want to dump me, just do it,” she said, punctuating the sentence with a disgusting sniff.

  “Oh, Hana!” Logan bent almost double, one hand resting on his thigh while the other covered his eyes. He looked tired and spent and Hana experienced a flash of guilt. She sat up and reached for him, her fingers fluttering over his biceps. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The tears flowed and she didn’t brush them away. “I realised I didn’t have a dress for Friday. Riding with Angus every day meant no car and not enough time to buy one. My phone died and then Anka went weird. It took ages to get back to school and the men were already there, looking for me. I’m so sorry.”

  Logan sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. “All this over a bloody dress?” he asked, disbelief in his tone. “That’s crazy, Hana.”

  “No, it’s important!” She sniffed again and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “I can’t turn up in jeans. You’ll think I don’t care.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and Logan shook his head, leaning forward to dab with the hanky.

  “Keep still,” he told her, his voice tender and his touch gentle. “Hana, I don’t care if you turn up naked,” he said, his grey eyes stormy.

  “Yeah, you would!” Hana swallowed and he placed his index finger over her lips.

  “I know, I know. Stretch marks.” He cocked his head on one side. “You must learn to talk to me,” he said, his tone soothing. “We’re a team. I can’t believe you sacrificed your security to borrow a dress. Angus said you met Anka.”

  Hana nodded. “She’s living with Tama in a scruffy rental in the south of the city. It took ages to walk there and she threw me out before he arrived home.” Hana reached for her tea. “She looked scared. You don’t think he hits her, do you?”

  Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, babe. It’s not his style.” He climbed onto the bed and lay next to her. Hana put her tea back on the cabinet and laid her head on his chest. Logan sighed. “Why did you think I’d dump you?”

  She shrugged. “I messed up and you gave me the silent treatment. It felt like a logical conclusion.”

  Logan’s head scuffed the pillow. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t say it again. You scared me and I didn’t know how to explain how it made me feel. Where I’m from, we never speak about our emotions.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hana whispered and he turned to face her. His palm against her cheek felt warm and safe. Logan climbed beneath the bed sheets, keeping his clothes on. He held Hana in her monkey pyjamas, his kisses urgent and desperate. When he rolled on top of her, Hana almost came apart at the seams. His insistent fingers pushed beneath her pyjama top and strayed where they hadn’t before. His tongue felt warm and sweet in her mouth and Hana gave in to the moment. Her heart slid into her stomach, causing a roller coaster ride of sensations. Her mind-voice screamed warnings and threats to her lust addled brain. Logan’s work calloused fingers felt rough against the soft skin of Hana’s hip as he slid them inside the waistband of her pyjamas and smoothed the skin over the jutting bone.

  Her father’s face swam before her, sneering and angry. “Slut!” he hissed. “You’re no daughter of mine! How could you?”

  Hana gasped a
s though drowning and fought for air. Logan’s expert ministrations stopped and he rolled off and gathered her into his arms. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathed into her hair. He kissed her face and forehead, pressing soft lips to her skin and holding her, determined not to let her go.

  “It’s not your fault.” Her voice cracked and she sobbed, a litany of compounded agony pouring from her soul.

  Hana awoke early the next morning, unused to the sensation of someone else in her bed. She heard Logan’s steady breaths and felt the downward pull in the mattress where he lay next to her. She reached out and met the scratchiness of his jeans with her questing hand. As she climbed from the bed, his fingers released a handful of her pyjama shirt.

  Hana turned on the kitchen light and made a pot of tea. The toaster sat on the counter so she stuffed a few slices of bread into it and fetched herself a plate. Tiger prowled around and she gave him tinned meat and biscuits. “You should go out soon,” she told him, stroking his soft head with her fingers and allowing his fur to sooth her. “There’s lots to explore but you mustn’t go near the main road.”

  Logan walked into the room, looking dreadful. A coating of dark stubble shadowed his face and his hair stuck up at jaunty angles. Dark circles hollowed his eyes. “Far out!” He sank into a dining chair, the effort turning his complexion grey.

  “What’s wrong?” Hana asked and he ground his jaw and shrugged.

  “Just don’t feel great,” he said, not getting eye contact with her.

  Hana collected the toast and put it on a plate for him, but he buttered it and then only picked. Hana faltered, remembering the electricity of the night before and her awful rejection of him. “I’d understand,” she began. “If you want to call the wedding off, I wouldn’t blame you.” She gulped, twirling a spoon in her fingers and dreading his answer.

  Logan looked at her with his piercing grey eyes, accusation in the set of his jaw and his voice a low growl. “How could you even suggest that? The way I feel about last night has nothing to do with marrying you. It’s keeping you safe I struggle with. You’re impulsive, behave rashly and exhibit a bizarre death wish.” He put his head in his hands and sighed with exhaustion.

  “Anka lent me a beautiful dress.” Hana sat next to him, aware he tensed when she mentioned Anka’s name. She put her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I told her about the attacks but she’s focused on her own problems at the moment.”

  Logan made a sound a bit like a scoff, but offered no comment. Hana tried harder, afraid he might still call it all off. “Does it matter if you see the dress before the wedding? It’s in the carrier bag on the bed.” She stood and backed away from him, frightened by the dark look in his eyes.

  Logan leapt to his feet, dragging Hana towards him. His grip around her torso made her breathing haphazard. “You need to let me sort these guys out,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t watch you struggle. I’ve only ever had myself to worry about before now. I don’t know how to do relationships.”

  Hana breathed in the masculine scent and fading aftershave. Love burgeoned in her heart like a delicate flower. “The cops will take care of it,” she replied, her tone determined. “I’ll ring Bodie today and tell him what happened.”

  “This is crazy.” Logan scratched his head.

  “I liked sleeping with you,” Hana whispered, her tone teasing. She kissed him on the underside of his stubbled chin. Logan relaxed his grip, his smile tight. He reached into his jeans pocket for his cell phone.

  “Yeah, we almost didn’t just sleep either. Hope your son’s an early riser!” He raised his eyebrows and dialled Bodie’s number.

  Bodie sounded angry, his tone acerbic. “Are you freaking kidding me? My mother went missing and you didn’t call us?”

  Logan snorted. “Yeah, because the cops are so interested in her problems. They’ve got her in witness protection with a bodyguard and everything!” He walked into the hall on the pretext of moving his boots to continue the call without Hana hearing.

  “I’ll get a shower,” he told Hana later, shoving the phone back into his jeans. “It might make me feel better.”

  Hana nodded and got ready for work. “I’ll continue the charade with Angus for now and take each day as it comes. But I promise to behave,” she called through the bathroom door. Logan didn’t reply.

  He emerged looking sick and complaining of a splitting headache. He leaned against Hana’s bedroom wall with a sorry look on his face. “I don’t think I can face a day of noisy classes followed by the ultimate in boredom, a faculty meeting,” he grumbled. “I’ll drop you at Angus’ place and go home for some medication.”

  “What medication?” Hana stopped with her lipstick in her hand. “I’ve got painkillers here. They’re in the plastic box in the pantry. Want me to find you some?”

  “It’s okay.” Logan wrinkled his nose. “I’ve got other stuff at home.”

  Hana’s brow knitted. “I didn’t know you took medication. What’s it for?”

  “It’s nothing!” Logan’s patience sounded frayed and he ground his teeth. “Just let me do what I need to do.”

  Hana swallowed and finished applying her makeup. She felt chastised and the familiar sensation irritated her. “Sorry for caring,” she bit.

  Logan sighed and left the room and Hana heard him putting his jacket on in the hall.

  He drove her to Angus’ place and apologised for his absence. Angus took one look at him and agreed. “Get yourself to the doctor’s, man,” he said, studying him with practiced eyes. The familiar signs were there. He patted Logan’s arm and unlocked the car for Hana, ushering her into the passenger seat without giving her time to argue.

  “Thanks,” Logan said, jerking his head towards the car. “For everything.”

  Angus nodded and leaned closer to him. “I’m hearing great reports of you as a teacher and I appreciate the way you conduct yourself. Parents of private schools like to attend parents’ evenings to ensure the investment in their child is proving worthwhile.” He patted Logan’s arm. “But it’s noticeable how popular you are. A record number of busy mothers turned out to support their boys at the last one.” Angus chuckled. “Any reason to get them in is a good reason, even if it’s to lech at my head of faculty.”

  Logan sighed. “Great. So you’re pimping me out?”

  Angus grinned. “Why not, Du Rose? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

  “No thanks.” Logan winced. “Not my style. And don’t be a sexist old man.”

  Angus roared with laughter. “Don’t let anyone else hear you speak to me like that.” He slapped Logan on the shoulder. “Get some rest,” he said. “You look like crap.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Logan smiled at Hana and narrowed his eyes at Angus. “Take better care of Hana today, please. You need to keep tabs on her.”

  He stood back and watched them leave, Hana’s anxious face pale and looking straight ahead. Logan drove to the Gordonton house across country, passing flat calm lakes and turning back on himself. He cringed at the memory of Angus’ face expression at the sight of him in the previous day’s clothes and pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t matter after Friday.

  The house felt empty and Logan let himself in using his key. Signs of a Henrietta-style feast littered the kitchen. Investigating the common areas for stray belongings, Logan knew he’d find none. Too compulsive to leave his stuff lying around, he went to his bedroom at the far end of the house. He took his medication and crashed on the bed without waking for a full two hours.