Hana Du Rose

by K T Bowes

  “Why? What is that?” Hana reached for the pillow, but Jas let out a squeal and got there ahead of her. He dragged out the little metal box and clutched it in his hand.

  Hana gaped. “Why did you do that?” she demanded. “You made me clean up your whole room looking for it!” His eyes filled with tears as he twisted the metal box around in his hand. Hana shook her head. “Don’t do that, Jas, it’s sharp. Look what it did.” She held out her finger to show the trickle of blood and he threw himself at her, crying and burying his face into her arm.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he wailed.

  Hana sighed and stroked his head, sucking her sore finger. She waited, sensing irritation would produce nothing of value. After a moment of tearful sniffing, Jas popped his head up and the list of complaints began. “But you gived it to me and I really need it! I don’t want you to take it away. Everyone takes away from me.”

  “So, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  Jas puckered his lips and shrugged. “Nobody listens. Mummy doesn’t listen, kindy teachers doesn’t listen, Daddy definitely doesn’t listen.”

  “You assumed I wouldn’t?” Hana swallowed a ball of guilt and chose honesty. “You’re probably right.” She took both his tiny wrists in her hands and pulled him close. “I’m sorry. I won’t take the box from you today, but I need you to understand something. It’s possible I gave the box away by mistake and it could become important. I might need it to protect me.”

  “This little box?” Jas looked down and turned it over in his palms, a hush of awe descending over him. “Protect you?”

  Hana nodded, her movements slow and exact. “Yes. I’d like to look inside today, but then I’ll need you to keep it very safe in case it’s needed. You can hide it from everyone except me.”

  The child’s eyes lit up like Christmas baubles and nodded with enthusiasm. “Not let Doctor X have it,” he stated. Jabbing his finger at an ugly doll on the dressing table, he shook the box. “See this?” He waved it in his hand. “You ain’t having it.”

  Hana nodded and waved to the infamous Doctor X and then turned her attention back to Jas. He took her hand and turned it over, placing the box into her palm with care.

  Hana wasted five minutes of her life looking for an opening. She found edges and corners and sides which might be flaps. The box didn’t open. “I can’t do it,” she announced, sounding desperate. “Did you ever get it open?” She shook it for the tenth time, hearing the dull rattle from inside. “I don’t remember it making a noise before.”

  “Don’t shake it!” Jas protested. “You’ll mess it up!”

  “Mess what up?” Hana released the box into his hands and he turned away. Carrying it to the other side of the room, he scrabbled in a carton on the ancient dressing table. Hana stood and he waved her away.

  “You can’t look.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not sposed to have needles.” Hana saw a flash of shiny metal and leaned sideways, watching as Jas poked a thin embroidery needle into a corner of the box. She heard a click. He turned back to her, the box dismantled in his palm. “See,” he said, grinning in victory. “Easy peasy.”

  Hana’s eyes widened and her jaw gaped. A mathematical net sat in the child’s hand, delicate but simple. The single sheet of thin metal hung slack on its bottom, the sides leaned outwards like a circus trick. Its lid formed part of a long side, rising above the object like a claw ready to close. The whole container looked no bigger than a matchbox. “How did that happen?”

  Jas strode across, his brow creased in concentration. His tone sounded irritated as though not comprehending Hana’s intellectual dullness. “Easy.” They bowed their heads over it and he pointed out several features. “This magnet keeps the lid shut. You need to push a needle through that teensy hole there to pop it off.” Hana looked closer, seeing the miniscule dent which she’d mistaken for damage. Jas clicked it closed in his hand and licked his lips. His voice sounded strained. “What I like best about it is the stickiness.” He walked over to a white board and swiped magnetic alphabet letters aside. “It sticks real good.” The box seemed to leap from the child’s palm and hurl itself to the board with something like glee. “Real good.” Jas turned with his bottom lip hanging low with misery. “I don’t want you to take it away.”

  Hana swallowed. “Just show me what’s inside.”

  Jas reopened with the box and held it up to her face, so close that her eyes crossed with the effort of looking in. A tiny green rifle sat in the bottom with a miniature necktie. Jas heaved out a sigh. “You shaked it and messed it up. My commander got blowed up and I was taking his things back to his platoon.”

  “Oh.” Hana sat back and felt the blood rush to her head with disappointment.

  “I know. It’s shocking.” Jas snapped the box closed with practiced expertise. “Mum sucked him up with the vacuum. She made me open the bag outside, but it was too late. It chewed him right up.”

  “When I gave it to you, did you find anything else inside?” Hana’s voice wobbled and disenchantment coursed through her veins.

  Jas smiled in approval at her appropriate grief for a fallen hero and patted her knee. “Yeah. Papers and a wubber band.”

  “And where did you put them, the papers and the rubber band?”

  “Dunno.” Jas shrugged, his interest waning. “Lofty played with them.”

  Hana pictured the giant ginger cat and swallowed all hope of retrieval. “Can you help me find them again?” she asked, but Jas shook his head.

  “Lofty can. But not me.”

  Hana closed her eyes and waited for the sense of defeat to pass. “Promise you’ll keep the box safe?” she whispered and Jas grinned and stuck it to the magnet board. The alphabet letters edged closer as if moved by an invisible hand. Her gaze strayed to untouched corners of the room, desperate to take it apart and hunt for the contents of the box. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and turned her feet to lead. She needed help to move the furniture. She also needed Jas to be somewhere else when she did it.

  Hana congratulated herself on solving part of the mystery. Someone hid a precious object in a box made by a schoolboy in metalwork. They stuck it to the underside of her vehicle. That scenario smacked of her car being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The next part of the intrigue could prove even harder. Whatever the box contained led to a woman’s disappearance and turned Hana’s life upside down. “It’s important, but not urgent,” Hana said and Jas glanced across at her.

  “What is?”

  “The papers in the box are important to someone, but not urgent enough for them to throw everything at finding me and reclaiming it. They’re taking their time.”

  “They don’t need it yet then.” Jas crawled around the floor, placing his soldiers at strategic battle points. “They know they’re gonna need it soon, but not yet. They’ve still got time.”

  “Time for what though?” Hana mused.

  Jas gave her a knowing sideways look. “Time to take revenge on Mummy for killing the commander. I’m putting them in battle formation. If she comes in with ice cream, they won’t shoot her but if she comes to tell me off, I’ll turn them loose.”

  “Nice.” Hana raised her eyebrows and tracked the trajectory from the green soldier’s gun to the door. “So, you’re playing at it for the moment then?”

  “Yeah!” Jas snorted. “Course I’m playing. I’m a bit busy with other things at the moment and she might give me ice cream. It’s maybe not a good time for a war.”

  “A bit busy.” Hana mouthed the words to herself and realised the cold, hard truth. The blonde man saw her as a sideline, someone to hound and torture when he got bored. Or when he needed to.

  “It doesn’t fit,” she told Bodie on the phone later. “There’s no urgency for the blonde man. I’m actually not that hard to find. Michael Laval wants this thing enough to kill a woman and compromise himself with Ethel Bowman. But not the blonde man. H
e’s stalling, putting in just enough effort to look good, whilst leaving the box in my possession.”

  Bodie chuckled. “Hell of a stretch, Mum.”

  “Maybe.” Hana ran a hand over her stomach, fancying it protruded through her nightdress a little. “What if two separate groups want this thing? Has anyone considered that?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The term started with a perfect winter Monday. A dense fog surrounded Culver’s Cottage, making it impossible to see beyond the lawned garden. Logan moved aside as Hana reached for her jacket. “The weather forecast says the mist will burn off by midday. It should be sunny.”

  Hana acknowledged his words with a smile and nodded, turning away to get into the car. Filtered sunlight glistened off the frost on the new driveway and she perched in the passenger seat in silence. The concrete surface made the downward slope appear much less frightening.

  Hana sought the sunshine at lunchtime, sitting on a bench in the sun after the boys returned to class. Bodie’s phone call disturbed her. He found nothing of interest in Jas’ bedroom. She struggled with the sandwich Logan made her, managing only half. She tipped the rest into a bin next to her and leaned back in the seat, enjoying the warmth on her face.

  “I saw that!” Angus sat down next to her. Hana smiled but didn’t look up. “I tell the boys off for biffing their lunch and then I see you do it.”

  “Not hungry,” she replied. “Sorry.”

  “Boris is leaving soon,” Angus began and Hana whipped round to face him.

  “Already?” She did the sums in her head and sighed, realising they fast approached late July. He always planned to return to Germany to complete his teaching degree. “I guess he’s due home,” she conceded.

  “I’m asking my secretary to organise a leaving gift for him. Would you like to contribute?”

  Hana nodded. “Yes, please. Count me in.”

  “What about Logan?” Angus raised an eyebrow and Hana looked away and shaded her eyes with her hand.

  “You must ask him.” She floundered and stood to leave.

  “Don’t go.” It emerged as a command and Hana froze in place, dreading Angus’ next question.

  “Have you noticed anything odd about Boris of late?”

  Hana relaxed as the question avoided the sensitive sore of her marriage. “No. Why?”

  Angus shook his head. “It’s nothing more than a feeling. He’s lost his easy going nature and it happened overnight. His mood seems rather dark and serious and I wondered if he’d confided in you.” He raised his hand. “I won’t ask you to break confidences, but if it’s something major, I wish to know.”

  Hana blinked. “No. I see him in passing but we aren’t close anymore. Sorry, I can’t help you.” She smiled to close the conversation and backed away.

  “Did the police ever sort out your little mess with the chaps following you? You don’t look well, Hana. Is it the strain or something else?” Angus’ red hair fluffed in the breeze and his brown eyes bored into hers.

  Hana swallowed and shook her head. “We still need to take care. I’m fed up of feeling a prisoner.”

  Angus released her with a nod and Hana bolted before his interrogation turned to Logan or worse, Caroline. She reasoned he must already know and it unsettled and embarrassed her. Logan’s open-air statement regarding the exact nature of his relationship with Caroline did nothing to stem the flow of gossip. If anything, it exacerbated it and made him look even worse. Rumours of the car park altercation still circulated in the absence of anything better to talk about. Hana heard one version in which she allegedly fought Caroline and got herself arrested.

  Pausing at the top of the stairs to watch a tui rest in the branches of a kowhai tree, Hana wondered if the blonde man observed her right then. Hopelessness and vulnerability washed over her. The half-eaten sandwich felt leaden and she rested a gentle hand over her stomach. A sound behind made her jump and she turned to see Logan leaned against the wall. His pockets constrained his hands and concern edged his expression. “You okay?” he asked, his tone casual. “Did you eat your lunch?”

  Hana glanced back at the tui, fancying it judged the lie on her lips. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine and I loved the sandwich.”

  Logan’s lips pursed. “I saw you throw it away. What did Angus want?”

  “That’s creepy.” Hana raised her eyebrows. “You know all my movements but I’m not privy to yours.”

  “I’ve watched you since that first day in the car park. I love you and I don’t lie to you, Hana.”

  She inhaled, tired of the constant sparring. “Don’t you?”

  “No.” Logan’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing!” Hana hissed her reply, embarrassed as a group of boys clattered past. It pained her to do her dirty laundry in public. Not the English way.

  Logan waited for the boys to pass, raising an eyebrow in challenge at one who dared to glance back. Then he removed his hands from his pockets and approached his rigid wife. She smelled his familiar aftershave and her heart gave a throb of pain. She missed their connection; short lived but passionate. Hana swallowed as the index finger of Logan’s left hand caressed her jaw. Before she could move, his right arm snaked around her waist. “I can’t stand this,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. It’s a one-time offer.”

  Hana opened her mouth to reply, something suitably barbed on her tongue. The sensation came from low in her stomach and she gasped and pressed her fingers over it.

  “What happened?” Paternal terror flashed in Logan’s eyes and stole away Hana’s resolve. If she wanted to hurt him, she knew how. “What should I do?” His arm tightened around her waist, ready to hold her up if she needed it. The peculiar sensation continued a while longer and then ceased, leaving tears in her eyes.

  Hana exhaled and tried to release herself from Logan’s grip. “The baby moved,” she said, blinking away specs of salt water from her eyelashes. They ran down her cheeks leaving a trail. “I’ve blocked it out until now.” She sniffed and wiped her face on her sleeve. “It dislikes being ignored.”

  “Did it hurt?” Logan’s brow creased and his childish innocence acted as a spear in Hana’s side. The naked emotion in his face wasn’t for her and it stung.

  “No.” She shook her head and pushed Logan’s hands away, leaving the staircase without looking back. “Stick your one-time offer of honesty, Logan Du Rose,” she breathed.

  At her desk, Hana collected herself and focussed on the tumbling emotions the tiny, butterfly movements evoked. “I can’t pretend anymore, can I baby?” she whispered. Her rational mind reminded her that thoughts of bringing a Du Rose baby into the world terrified her almost as much as not managing to.

  The following week, Hana rang the doctor’s surgery and made an appointment. Amy let her use the landline and watched her with a raised eyebrow. “Is Logan going with you?” she asked and Hana chewed her bottom lip.

  “No. I won’t tell him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Hana sighed. “The Caroline thing I suppose. But also because he left the house again last night. He thinks I don’t notice when he leaves after I’m in bed.”

  Amy plonked a drink in front of her. “You sound like Bodie and me.” Her brow furrowed. “Always missing the connection.” She waved a biscuit at Hana. “As long as you’re not punishing him. Children aren’t weapons.”

  Hana rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t know that?”

  Amy smirked and turned back to loading the dishwasher.

  Hana worked through the week, fielding calls about the upcoming Expo and documenting everything in case she suddenly disappeared again. When her phone buzzed on her desk one morning, the caller shocked her. “Anka, hi.” Hana kept her voice clipped and her friend responded with understandable awkwardness.

  “Hi, Hana. Would you mind meeting me for coffee tomorrow?”

 
Hana gnawed on the inside of her cheek. The overwhelming need for female company made her crave Anka’s friendship, while reality reminded her why they no longer enjoyed one. She agreed and told Logan, expecting him to kick up a fuss. He didn’t. “Why don’t I drop you at the cafe?” he suggested. “Then you can use me as an excuse if you need to escape. Just send me an empty text and I’ll come.”

  He dropped her on a Grey Street cafe and Hana found Anka already inside. She walked towards her table with her heart creating a drum roll in her chest. Anka sat alone, chewing her thumbnail and flipping a sugar sachet in the other hand. She rose as Hana approached. “Hi, how are you?” she asked and Hana accepted the trivial chitchat as a starter.

  “Great thanks. How are you?”

  “Oh, you know.” Anka shrugged, brushing off the question like water off wax.

  Hana inhaled the scent of coffee, testing her stomach by degrees. A single bout of sickness early in the week ensured she remained wary.

  Anka looked thinner, wearing a chic jacket a few sizes too large for her. She appeared tense and kept her eyes moving around the shop to avoid Hana’s gaze. Hana flicked her coat over the back of the chair, hauling her blouse down to cover the open top button of her trousers. They sat and ordered drinks from a passing waitress before Hana turned to business. “Why are we here, Anka?” She waited, her face expressionless as Anka struggled. An awkward silence descended over them and Hana kept her nerve, refusing to gush and smooth over the cracks as she once would.

  When Anka said nothing, she stood. “I should probably leave. This wasn’t a good idea.” Hana reached for her phone.

  “Don’t!” Anka swallowed and her eyelashes fluttered. “Give me a chance. I know Logan’s not very far away and I’m sure he wants this to fail.” Her hands flapped in front of her. “Can’t say I blame him.”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks and Hana sat again, her fingers playing with the straw in her smoothie. Anka took a sip of her latte and Hana held her breath for a number of reasons. “I want to apologise,” Anka said. “I just don’t know where to start.”