by K T Bowes
After Pete stepped on her feet four times, Hana left him doing his loose-armed impression of John Travolta alone in the middle of the floor. She found space at a circular table and a waitress offered a tray of drinks as soon as she sat down. “Thank you,” Hana said, giving the teenager a smile.
“You’re welcome, Mrs Du Rose,” the girl replied and Hana gaped in surprise. Gwynne watched her from across the table and laughed.
“You’ll need to get used to that.” He patted his new wife’s hand on the tablecloth and she beamed up at him.
“I love being Mrs Jeffs,” she replied with a coy smile.
“I suppose I will.” Hana pushed the glass of wine in a circle using the stem. “I like how it sounds.”
The new Mrs Jeffs grinned. “It suits you.”
They turned their attention to the dance floor as Pete’s antics drove the other dancers away, including Henrietta and the sports teacher. “Whatever happened with that incident?” Gwynne asked, breaking into the silence as Pete moved on to the ‘Chicken Dance.’
“Which incident?” Hana asked and Gwynne’s eyes widened.
“You mean there were more than just the mugging? Oh yeah, I guess there was the broken windscreen too.” He turned to explain to his wife. “A woman and male teenager attacked Hana in the chapel car park after work one night. They tried to snatch her handbag. I was at a cricket meeting and we managed to grab the boy.”
“That’s awful!” Her eyes widened in sympathy. “I didn’t know.”
“Oh,” Hana waved her hand in dismissal. “The police didn’t contact me about that again. It disappeared into the ether, like everything else that happens to me.” She leaned forward. “Did you know my car went missing a few weeks later?”
“No!” Gwynne sat back in his chair, surprise in his eyes. “I assumed you changed it for the big off-roader.”
Hana shook her head. “That’s Logan’s. I borrowed it. I’ve replaced it now with a Honda. The cops don’t know where my other one went. It disappeared from the garage I contracted to mend the bumper.”
“Bumper?” Gwynne’s eyebrows joined in the middle. “What did you do to the bumper?”
Hana swallowed. Her catalogue of incidents seemed ludicrous and unbelievable. The happiness of her marriage lost its glow as she overwrote it with misery. She couldn’t let that happen. “Just a minor ding.” She dismissed it with a casual wave of her hand. “But you guys caught the boy who mugged me, didn’t you?” she asked. “I wonder what happened to him.”
Gwynne snorted and sat back in his chair. “Court. Or at least I’d hope so. Nice kid. Terrible home life. I’m not sure who paid his fees, but they wanted something better for him than becoming a criminal. Mind you, when they come from that kind of background, they often regress into it.”
Hana gaped. “You know him?”
“Didn’t you?” Gwynne rubbed his face in confusion. He shrugged in dismissal. “I assumed you did but perhaps he never ventured into your part of the school. I acted as the Year 9 dean in his first year so I saw him a lot. Stupid kid. Heaps of potential wasted.”
Hana started with such violence, the drink slopped from her glass and onto the table. She watched the liquid pool; concentration etched into her face. Gwynne’s wife mopped at it with a napkin. “This isn’t the right time to discuss it,” she chided him. “Not on Hana’s wedding day.”
“Sorry.” Gwynne winced. “I didn’t think.”
Hana shook her head. “It’s fine. An Old Boy of the school. I never saw that coming.”
Gwynne’s wife made her excuses and headed to the bathroom. He leaned forward to apologise. “Just forget it,” he said. “It sounds like your car became a liability and it’s gone now.”
Hana nodded and let him believe it, wishing she could too.
CHAPTER TWO
Logan and Hana bid their guests goodbye as the evening drew to a close and most of them travelled back to Auckland or Hamilton. Izzie seemed calmer as she and Hana hugged goodbye. “Where are you staying?” Hana asked, kissing Elizabeth’s sleeping face.
“We’ll drive up to Drury. It’s half an hour from here.” Izzie smiled. “Marcus’ parents haven’t seen Beth since we moved south, so we’ll spend tonight with them and fly home tomorrow.”
“Thank you for coming.” Hana’s face crumpled. “I appreciate how hard it is with a baby.”
“You’re worth it.” Izzie’s smile held a panicked quality and Hana’s heart clenched.
She brushed her daughter’s hair away from her caramel forehead. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Marcus squeezed Hana’s arm as he kissed her cheek, giving her a knowing look which summed up the unspoken promise to look after Isobel. “Goodbye, Mrs Du Rose,” he said and smirked. “Bless ya.”
The staff from school left in dribs and drabs, uttering their congratulations. Logan kept his arm around Hana. “If I was a betting man, I’d wager everyone knows about our wedding before staff briefing on Monday,” he whispered.
Hana’s eyes narrowed in dreaded anticipation. Ethel Bowman’s flaccid face and multiple chins wafted across her inner vision wearing a look of victory. The issue of Caroline’s rage followed a close second.
“What’s wrong?” Logan sensed her anxiety and his grip tightened.
“Oh, just imagining Ethel Bowman’s reaction. She’ll want to know why she wasn’t invited and then she’ll move onto claiming it as a matchmaking victory.”
Logan shrugged. “That’s easy. Tell her I organised the whole thing and she’s welcome to moan at me if she wants. We both know she wouldn’t dare.” Logan took Hana’s fingers in his and smoothed the skin surrounding her new wedding ring. “Let her hear from someone else how I’ve known and loved you for decades. Who cares?”
“Guess so.” Hana smiled and rested her chin against his shirt, smiling up at him through relieved green eyes. “I’ll send her to you then, shall I?” She didn’t ask who she should send an apoplectic Caroline to.
“For sure.” Logan kissed the end of Hana’s nose. “You now have access to the most useful words in the English dictionary.”
“What are they?” Hana cocked her head to one side like a little bird.
Logan narrowed his grey eyes and adopted a somber expression. “My husband wouldn’t like it.” He delivered the line with a sexy lift of his lips.
Hana snorted. “Oh that’s awesome. I forgot about that sentence. Did you know there are others too?”
“There are?”
“Yeah.” Hana nodded with confidence. “There’s heaps. ‘I must check with my husband,’ and, ‘I think my husband has plans for that weekend.’ There’s a whole range to choose from.” She sighed. “It’s gonna be amazing.”
“Steady on!” Logan snorted. “You can’t use me as the get-out for everything, woman.”
“I can and will.” Hana smiled with satisfaction. She glanced at her watch. “Gosh, we’ll get back to Culver’s Cottage really late.”
“I booked us a room,” Logan whispered, pressing his body into hers and moving his lips across the skin under Hana’s earlobe.
“Aw that’s so thoughtful,” she breathed. “But what about poor Tiger? He must be going out of his kitty mind cooped up at home.”
“It’s ok Mum,” Bodie interjected, seeking the newlyweds out to say goodbye. “I’m staying at your place tonight. He’ll be fine. I checked on him earlier when I drove to get Amy.”
“Oh, thank you.” Hana’s expression flooded with relief.
“Yeah.” Bodie slanted his eyes and shot Logan a look of challenge. “We’ll talk when you get back. What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.” Hana glanced back at Logan and saw his jaw flex. He moved away to help his father dismantle a trestle table which fought the old man with its spindly metal legs.
“Watch your fingers Dad!” Logan took the table from his father and collapsed it. He tuned back in t
o Hana’s body language whilst folding the next table. She looked tense. From Bodie’s uncomfortable expression, Logan saw the conversation going downhill and hovered between involving himself and staying out of it. Hana’s fingers clenched as she stood facing her son, releasing as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She smiled and Logan exhaled the breath clogging up his chest.
She disappeared outside with Bodie and his companions, returning to the ballroom shivering. “It’s frosty already,” she announced. The table Alfred rolled across the parquet floor wobbled on its circular edge, threatening to squash him if he made a wrong move.
“First of many,” Alfred called back, rolling the table into the cupboard. It picked up speed as it went through the double doors and a deafening crash followed. “Oh shit!” came the muffled voice. “Forgot that was there.”
Logan ignored the banging and crashing from inside the cupboard and the sound of Alfred talking to a number of chairs and one round, stubborn table. He pushed his arms around Hana’s shaking body and linked his fingers across her breasts. “Geez you’re cold. What was that all about with your son?” He kept the question light but Hana felt his anxiety.
She shrugged. “He wanted to talk. He said it’s urgent. I usually drop everything and listen, but I don’t know when we’ll be home tomorrow. He doesn’t like not having me on speed dial anymore.”
“We shouldn’t be late,” Logan replied, rubbing her back to warm her. “Will he wait?”
Hana sighed. “I don’t know, Loge. Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Sorry.” Logan’s breath felt warm against her neck and Hana pulled him closer. “When I asked Bodie to check the cat on Friday night, I expected him to come to the party alone. What’s the story with that little kid? Is it some deep, dark Johal secret?”
“You could say that.” Hana rolled her eyes and jerked at the sound of another deafening crash and a yell from Alfred.
“Sorry.” Logan let go of her and raced towards the cupboard.
In the kitchen later, Miriam held a cold compress to Alfred’s head and chastised him. “How many times have I told you to leave those damn tables alone? The staff have no trouble with them. It’s just you!”
“There’s a knack to it!” His attempt to defend himself played into her hands.
“Yes,” she retorted, brandishing the compress like a brick. “And you don’t have it!”
The wounded soldier sat on a chair in the warm kitchen, sulking as his wife examined the bruise on his head and poured brandy into a small tumbler. Alfred reached for it and received a slap on the back of his head. “Not for you,” Miriam snapped. “It’s for me. For my bad nerves, which you get on!”
Alfred’s bottom lip protruded in a childish display of attention seeking and Hana watched in fascination as Miriam capitulated. She poured three more glasses and pushed one of them across, not near enough to show forgiveness, but enough to make him reach. Alfred downed it in a few quick swallows and smacked his lips. “For the shock,” he muttered, winking at Hana.
Miriam shoved a glass towards her and Hana sculled it in one. She pushed her tumbler back for more and Miriam hesitated for a second before refilling it. Hana saw her bug her eyes at Alfred. “I’m not an alcoholic,” Hana said, cradling the liquor in her hands and watching the colours change in the light. “But it’s been one heck of a day.”
Logan closed the kitchen door behind him, shaking his head at his father. “Nice mess you made of the cupboard,” he grumbled. He noticed Hana staring at the brandy and raised an eyebrow. “But babe,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I thought we agreed to keep your problem between us.”
“What?” Hana’s cheeks flushed and Logan’s parents turned towards her, judgement in their eyes. His laugh sounded brutal in the silent kitchen. Hana pouted. “Not funny, Logan.”
He shrugged. “You got trolleyed here last time,” he said and Hana squirmed in discomfort. Logan noticed Miriam’s expression and laughed harder. “It’s a joke, Mum!”
Miriam frowned, her eyes narrowing to grey slits. “You never joke, son.”
Hana groaned and put her hands over her face. Her feet ached and she longed for the oblivion that overindulging might bring. Miriam stroked the brandy bottle, reducing even that faint hope.
Logan declined Miriam’s offer of the remaining glass. “Na, I’m good thanks.” He watched Hana clench and unclench her jaw and realised he’d hurt her. “Hana’s not an alcoholic,” he said, quirking his left eyebrow upwards and aiming the comment at his mother. “Poor joke.” He thumped into the chair next to Hana and draped his arm over her shoulders, studying her from beneath his long eyelashes. “You look tired, babe. Big night aye?”
Hana nodded. “Yeah.” She bit back a retort about her drunken state, her mood jaded by the memory of three wasted drinks she didn’t get to enjoy. Instead, she rested her head against him with a nod and sighed.
Logan jerked his head towards his mother. “Hone from the township helped put the cupboard back together.” His tone sounded light as he leaned across to examine Alfred’s head. “That looks sore. It’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”
Alfred pouted and looked even more pathetic. He pushed his glass towards the bottle, inching it there a fraction at a time as though expecting a guillotine to dismantle hand and glass. Miriam moved the bottle away and glared at her husband. “You shouldn’t drink after a head injury.”
“You gave me the first one!” Alfred complained, but Miriam ignored him with practiced ease.
He shrugged and pushed his bottom lip higher. His grey-eyed gaze fell on Logan. “It’s only youse gets the sympathy, boy. Maybe I should get the curse.”
Hana sensed the tension in the room hike and sat up, staring at Alfred in surprise. “What curse?”
“Alfred Du Rose!” Miriam shouted. “Shut your mouth!” Her voice wavered and Hana’s eyes widened in fear. Logan’s body stiffened next to her and she heard his sharp inhale. Alfred’s jaw clenched in irritation and he pushed himself away from the table, creaking his old bones into a standing position.
“I’ll finish the tidying,” he stated, sounding cowed while his eyes flashed opposite emotions.
“I’ll help.” Logan eyed Hana sideways. “Will you be okay for a while?”
Hana nodded, the movement slow and non-committal. Her heart sped up in panic as she watched him leave the room. Miriam reached for her glass. Her fingers shook and slopped the refill over the sides. “So you went along with it then?” She sounded jaded, struggling for control as she ran arthritic hands across eyes which lost their childish liveliness to deep seated spite.
“I didn’t just go along with it.” Hana injected indignation into her voice. “I married Logan because I love him.”
Miriam’s grey eyes drilled into hers, ready to inflict harm at the sound of any wrong word. The little old lady act melted behind the face of a dreadful adversary.
“You seemed pleased.” Hana tried to keep the whine from her voice.
Miriam snorted. “I am actually. I like you. You’ve a way to go before this family trusts you, but I believe that time will come.” She nodded as she said the last sentence as though agreeing with herself. “I heard you met the other one.” So much bile accompanied the mention of Caroline, Hana stopped with her glass halfway to her lips. The older woman’s teeth gritted shut and her jaw flexed with passionate anger. Miriam launched into a vitriolic monologue. “You keep that bitch away from my boy!” she spat, her eyes widening in fury. “She dangled him like a fly on a spider’s web. She’s a toxic, spiteful piece of trash. Logan was her fall guy and the best thing he ever did was walk away when she humiliated him at the altar. It wasn’t tears of sadness I shed. Alfie and I never felt so relieved. We’re simple people, Hana. We don’t ask for much, but respect from our whānau.” Miriam paused for breath. “That bitch won’t let a wedding ring get in her way, so you hold onto my boy tight.”
Hana took a deep breath. “I share an office with her at work. I
hoped she might leave us alone now.”
Miriam scoffed and her drink sprayed across the table. “Sorry to disappoint you, girly. Married men are just her sort of challenge. The last sucker was wed to my niece.” Miriam gripped Hana’s arm, her fingernails digging into flesh. “Keep Logan away from her. Promise me? They aren’t meant to be together. The old kuia said so. If I’m not around to stop her, you must!”
Hana nodded her head in a jerky motion, fear and dismay growing inside her chest. “Why wouldn’t you be around?” she asked, her voice faltering.
Miriam shrugged. “I can’t see the future kōtiro. You must be his rear guard.”
Hana scoffed. “If Logan wants to cheat with Caroline, I won’t beg him to stay.” Her upper lip curled in disgust and the old woman baulked. Hana rose, unable to cope as Miriam bounced between gentle elderly mother-in-law and frantic-lunatic, dangerous to be around.
Hana pushed her chair back and edged sideways while Miriam downed another tot of spirit and swayed in her seat. Hana hovered by the door, not sure where her bedroom might be. She wanted to escape the crazy lady, but felt responsible for her in the absence of anyone else. “Nice looking boy, that one of yours,” she heard Miriam sigh. “My Barry turned heads too, not handsome like Logan but fine-boned and gentle. A bit like your boy.”
Hana swallowed, compassion overriding her desire to retreat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We aren’t meant to bury our own children.”
Miriam shook her head and poured another tumbler of brandy. It looked bigger than two fingers and Hana’s brow knitted with anxiety. “We’re not,” the old lady agreed. “They should lower us into the ground.” A tear hit the scarred wooden table and Hana inhaled. The compassionate side of her nature took charge. She knelt beside Miriam’s chair and the old lady’s shoulders heaved. Hana stroked her back, feeling the knotty spine poking through her blouse.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how hard it was.”
