The grating voice of her sixty-six-year-old mother-in-law greeted Hana as she answered the midnight phone call. Roused from a deep sleep, her head felt foggy. “I almost rang off!” Indra complained, the irritating shrill quality still present after three years of no contact. “We’re visiting New Zealand and staying with you.” She laid it down like a gauntlet of challenge. Vik might be gone, but the game continued, forcing the unwanted wife to dance when she least felt like it. Anger rose within Hana and she fought for control.
“We want to see Vikram’s children. We arrive on the Saturday after next. Get us from the airport at nine in the morning, your time.”
Indra Johal rang off, leaving Hana furious with herself. “Your son’s dead,” she said to the silent handset. “I shouldn’t have to see you anymore.”
She stumbled back to bed with a glass of red wine and a detective novel, noticing a text from Izzie which had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. She replied. ‘Are you still up?’
Her phone rang straight away. “Hey Mum. Just feeding Beth. Why are you up this late?”
“Bibi ji phoned me.”
“What? Really?” Izzie chuckled. “What did she want?”
Hana relayed Indra’s wishes and Isobel fell silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice held a tremor. “They won’t come to Invercargill. It’s too far.”
“She said they’re planning to.” Hana yawned. “They want to see Beth.”
“But they don’t know!” Izzie sounded panicked. “I didn’t tell them about the Down syndrome. What will they do?”
“What can they do?” Hana soothed. “She’s their granddaughter, like she is mine. They’ll love her.”
“Please don’t let them come down here,” Izzie begged. “I can’t face the interrogation about my deepest personal secrets. Elizabeth’s enough of a reject in society without her own grandparents passing verdict!” Hana heard her swallow and calm herself. “Mum, tell them it’s too cold down here. Winter’s coming. They’ll hate it.”
Hana didn’t like to burst her bubble by pointing out they lived in Britain. Trying to distract her, she decided to broach the subject of selling the house. “I need a change and feel like it’s time. Logan said the market isn’t great but I’ve asked a few agents to call round and give me a value.”
Silence greeted her sentence and then Izzie sighed. “It’s okay, Mum. You must do what you think is best. Who’s Logan?”
Not quite ready for a full confession, Hana floundered. “I work with him. He’s younger than me but seems to like me.” She waited, hearing only silence.
The effort told in the small voice which came across the miles as Izzie fought to control her feelings. “Good luck, Mum. I hope it goes well. Just make sure he’s not an axe murderer or a con artist.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Eight years is a long time Mum. And Dad loved you so much; I know he’d want you to find love again.”
Hana settled down to sleep, hearing Izzie’s words replaying in her head. “Would he?” she whispered into the darkness. “Would he really?” She thought about the feelings of inadequacy her husband’s memory induced. She never believed she deserved him and couldn’t bear to imagine him with anyone else. If she never intended for him to replace her, then perhaps she lived the life she deserved.
Hana likened herself to a lonely elephant, doomed after the death of her partner to wander the earth alone forever. The cruelty stung as once again Hana resorted to the sleeping tablets, only one this time to shut out the condemnation of her confused thoughts.