Chapter 43
Hana’s phone chirruped, dragging her from the awful pit of remembered pain. The device vibrated around the counter, stretching its cable taut against the new double-socket. Her fingers shook as she pulled it free and accepted the call.
“Hey Mum, how are you? Did Logan and Pete already leave?” Bodie asked. His tone sounded urgent.
Opting to explain nothing, Hana gave short, non-committal answers. “Yes, I’m fine. Yes, my visitors left for work. How’s Marcus?” Her lips felt bruised from Logan’s kiss and she pressed her fingers to them, filled with confusion and wanting what she couldn’t have. She no longer thought of the blonde man’s kiss, the memory overwritten with the flare of a teenage crush. Her heart went to war with her head.
“Look Mum, I’ve booked a flight for Marcus. He’s leaving tomorrow. I found him injecting in the night and he suffered a bit of a hypo. He’s okay but struggling. Besides which, Izzie’s threatening to fly up with Elizabeth and refuses to understand there’s nowhere for them to sleep.”
Hana put her hand up to her forehead and let out a huge sigh. “Poor Marcus, is he okay?”
“Don’t give him sympathy!” Bodie snapped. “It’s self-inflicted. Idiot ate a box of chocolates. He’s begging me not to tell Izzie but I still might.”
“Chocolates?” Hana rolled her eyes. “Why did you give him chocolates?”
“I didn’t.” Bodie paused. “Logan bought them for you. Did you like the flowers?”
“What flowers?”
“He had a massive bouquet on the front seat of his car.” Bodie snorted. “Maybe he changed his mind.”
Hana gritted her teeth and glanced around the bare kitchen. “Maybe they weren’t for me,” she snarled.
“He said they were, but that’s not why I’m ringing.” Hana heard his heavy intake of breath. “The removers rang me. Someone cancelled, so I changed the day. They arrive here in half an hour. They should be with you by about eleven.” He waited for a response, unnerved by Hana’s silence. “Mum? You still there?”
Hana clutched the phone with one hand and the bench top with the other. Her knuckles showed white through her porcelain skin. “I’m not ready!” she gasped.
Bodie continued, his tone cajoling. “I know you don’t like last minute changes, but Culver’s Cottage is as ready as it’s gonna get at the moment. We all need a good night’s sleep tonight, especially me. I have stuff to do tomorrow. For work.”
“Sleep,” Hana repeated and sighed. Her bones ached from last night’s sleep, or lack of. She looked around at the bare walls showing patches of colour, the plaster sanded ready for painting. “I wanted to decorate the key areas first,” she complained and Bodie snorted.
“You won’t manage it before your actual moving day, Mum. Be realistic. Move in and then work around it.” He paused. “Angus rang. He said the biology teacher still wants the house.”
“Oh.” Hana’s mood lifted. “So I don’t need to sell right now? That’s amazing.”
“It is but they’re still moving in on Saturday. Finish up here and start again, Mum. You can do this.”
Hana smirked at her son’s attempts to encourage her. In a freaky role reversal, he even mimicked the same tone of voice she once used to get him to finish homework or run faster at sports’ day. “Okay.” She exhaled. “I’ll get ready for the van arriving.” She peered at her watch. “In three and a half hours. Should I drive back to Achilles Rise with the vacuum cleaner?”
“Nope,” Bodie answered. “You can do that before the weekend. Just stay there. Decide where you want things so it’s easier when the van arrives. There’s one other thing.”
Tension in Bodie’s voice piqued Hana’s interest. “What, Bo?”
Bodie lost his nerve. “It’s fine. Nothing important. I’ll tell ya later. You’re amazing, Mum. You’re taking this so well!”
The stack of black bin bags sat on next-door’s trailer, attached to the tow bar of Bodie’s BMW. The expensive car purred outside the city dump on Lincoln Road with Marcus at the wheel. It contained items Hana wouldn’t want to lose. Bodie’s packing wasn’t as haphazard as his mother believed, but selective and careful. His dismantling of the family home uncovered morbid stacks of memorabilia which worried him; the newspaper clippings detailing the road accident which killed his father, cards of sympathy, fading and yellowing with age and a note from someone called Mark. He’d turned the paper over in his fingers, not having heard the name before. ‘Mum died on Tuesday,’ it read. ‘Don’t come to the funeral. You’re not welcome. Mark.’ He wanted to ask Hana about it, but knew he wouldn’t. He sent it to the municipal dump, dreading the consequences once Marcus drove away.
Hana’s reaction to the crushing of the little dog he gave her, alerted him to the fragility of her peace. He remembered buying it from a $2 store. His father gave them $5 each to buy Hana a birthday present, which for Izzie meant a $5 gift. For Bodie, it meant sweets and a panic after looking at the meagre change in his hand. So little thought went into the buying of the dog, yet she treasured it enough to die for against a man whose nickname reflected his skill with a blade.
Everything went into black bin bags and Marcus waited outside the dump, his body thrumming from the effects of his midnight hypo. Having grabbed a sneaky pie from the bakery, the cleric inspected Bodie’s expensive ride for tell-tale crumbs on the driver’s seat. He tuned the radio into a Christian music station and hiked the volume, guaranteed to upset his friend when he reclaimed the car and found himself blasted with a church choir. Then Marcus lay back in his seat outside the locked gates and belted out a hymn in a loud and entertaining baritone, much to the amusement of the council workers. “Oh, God,” he bellowed and they looked at each other and sniggered.
“Yeah, you’ll need him in a minute,” stated the grumpy site manager and the others laughed.
By eleven o’clock, Hana felt ready. She wandered around the empty house looking at the rough walls and deciding how to place the furniture. Bodie rang her again. “They’re almost there,” he said, his voice distant and the sound of traffic in the background. “I’ve told them to leave a gap between the big furniture and walls so you can get behind it to decorate. Otherwise you’ll kill yourself pulling the Welsh dresser out and in again.”
Hana snorted. “You know me too well.” At his lack of response, she cringed. “There’re too many windows,” she complained. “I don’t know where I’ll fit everything.”
“You’ll be fine,” Bodie replied. “Almost there.”
Hana heard the removal truck before she saw it. It whined and complained over every centimetre of the thousand metre driveway. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she waited on the porch, seeing the rear door come towards her. “Bloody hell!” she exclaimed. “He reversed up.”
The huge removals van rounded the last bend and strained up the hill. The flat ridge at the top wasn’t long enough to accommodate it, so the driver parked at a jaunty angle, with only just enough room to drop the loading ramp.
“Losers parked at the bottom,” Marcus called to Hana, emerging from the middle seat of the removal van looking smug and self-satisfied. He poked his tongue out at Bodie, who stopped to catch his breath at the top of the rise. The other removals man appeared from the passenger seat looking sick. He crouched near the floor with a green complexion and Hana winced.
The driver punched the air in victory and high-fived Marcus. “Oosh, backwards bro’! I nearly lost it on that last bend! Good job you’re a praying man.”
Marcus laughed and Bodie stalked across, his face showing irritation. “That was irresponsible.”
The driver shook his head. “Na. It’s all good, mate. Rear wheel drive on this baby.” He slapped the truck door with a loving hand.
“Mate, the handbrake’s not on properly,” Bodie interjected with urgency in his voice.
“Oops!” The driver dashed back into the cab, cranking the gears into reverse and ratcheting the handbrake up a few notches. Th
e massive van leaned at a dangerous angle pointing down the hill.
Hana offered everyone a drink, but the removers declined. “I need to be in Hamilton by three o’clock to take my youngest son to soccer training,” the driver smiled. “Otherwise the wife will kill me.”
The unloading began in earnest with Hana directing the furniture traffic to various different locations. In the middle of the chaos, an unwelcome visitor arrived. Hana sighed at the sight of him and summoned up a blank look which didn’t betray the salt rubbed into her wounds.
“Hey, Logan.” Marcus wiped his hands down his thighs and offered his hand.
Logan shook it and nodded towards the house. “Need some help? I taught my first three classes and Angus let me go for today.”
“Yeah, sure.” Marcus glanced back at Hana’s dark expression and cringed. “Come with me. I’m fixing up the double bed.”
“Ooh, vicar!” Bodie retorted, hurrying past with a bedroom cabinet. “How very inappropriate.”
Nobody stopped until two o’clock and the van sat empty. The driver’s assistant proved entertaining in the slanted body, for as it emptied, he employed small wheels under his trainers to skate to the back and fetch the last items. At ten past two, the red brake lights of the van made a terrifying descent to the road, this time nose first. At the first bend, the driver took both hands off the wheel to give a cheery two-handed wave, shouting, “Invoice will be in the post!”
Hana felt her breath catch as he lurched around the corner and continued his unpredictable journey downhill. Inside, she heard the men shouting to each other as they reassembled the last of the cabinets and beds. They argued over the spanner and screwdriver which Marcus hogged. The dining table fitted in the centre of the kitchen and Hana hauled it into place and clapped her hands in pleasure.
“I’ll put boxes in the dining room then,” Bodie suggested, watching her from the hall. “They might get damp in the garage.”
Marcus shot him an odd look, which he ignored. Hana frowned. “I don’t think so. The surveyor found no sign of damp.”
Bodie shook his head. “I don’t want you carrying boxes up the stairs. It’s dumb when you can sort them out up here.”
Hana nodded. “Good plan.” Her eyes narrowed. “There isn’t as much as I thought there’d be. Did stuff get left at Achilles Rise?”
Bodie cringed and Marcus cleared his throat. Hana looked from one to the other. “Mum, can I borrow your car? I’ll take Marcus to the dairy to get some lunch and fetch my car on the way back.”
“Yeah sure.” Hana dragged the keys from the counter and placed them into his upturned palm, watching his colour change enough to alert her. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Awkwardness made him laugh and they backed away, getting stuck side by side in the kitchen doorway.
Logan dodged out of their way as he arrived behind them. “The back bedroom is set up.” He waved the spanner. “Easier once I got the tools.”
Marcus waved to him from the front door. “Fancy a pie for lunch? Bo’s buying.”
Logan nodded. “Yeah, please.”
The slam of the front door let silence flood back in and Hana kept her eyes on the floor. Logan edged nearer. “House looks great,” he said. “Like you imagined.”
Hana breathed out through pursed lips and nodded. “Kind of.”
Logan cocked his head. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Her sharp retort shut down the discussion, the unspoken words hanging between them. The same loneliness but a different location. She hadn’t planned to be there alone.
“Come on.” Logan held his hand out to her and Hana’s brow furrowed. “Show me where you packed the sheets and we can make some of the beds up.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes in the dining room, opening boxes and looking for sheets and pillowcases. “This is ridiculous.” Hana stopped and put her hands on her hips. “They must have left stuff.”
“They didn’t.”
“How do you know?” she demanded and Logan shrugged. “I saw it all last night when I called by. There were twenty-eight boxes stacked up in the garage and that’s what they brought. Plus your furniture.” He yanked a double duvet and cover from a box, holding it up in front of her. “This is what we’re looking for.” He laid it over his arm and looked at her in expectation. “You coming?”
The tension between them eased and Hana felt herself thawing, despite her efforts not to. She grabbed pillows and cases and followed him into the bedroom. Logan flipped the duvet cover inside out and stuffed his hands into the corners. Hana laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Hey. My parents run a hotel. I know the quickest way to service a bedroom, Ms McIntyre. Don’t doubt me.”
She smiled and handed him the corners of the duvet inner. He seized them in his strong fingers and flicked the cover over the top, shaking the whole thing to encourage it to settle into place. “I don’t do it like that,” Hana said, watching the easy manoeuvre in surprise. “I’ll try it that way when my hands feel better.”
Logan smiled, the expression open and generous. They worked side by side to fasten the buttons at the bottom and Logan shook it out over the bed. Standing back to admire the effect, their hands touched. Hana jumped as though shot. “Sorry,” she blurted and backed away.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Logan took her slender forearms in his fingers and turned her hands over. “You’re using your wrist easier,” he remarked, his eyes moving across the stitches in her palm. “But you should cover this.”
Hana watched his lips move as he spoke, remembering their kiss and horrifying herself by wishing he’d repeat it. He’d removed the plasters from his knuckles and the skin looked raw and ragged, less healed than any of her injuries. “Your hand looks sore,” she said, her voice soft. “I never thanked you properly. You must’ve hit him hard.”
Logan swallowed. “About average,” he said. His eyes flashed something unreadable. His fingers gripped her forearms tighter.
“What did you want to say last night?” Hana asked, her voice tremulous. “We might as well get it over with.”
Logan’s eyebrows rose and then he shook his head. “Nothing important. Nothing to upset you, although you assumed it would.”
Hana swallowed and looked at the floor, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. “So just say it.”
“I don’t need to.” Logan’s fingers roved up her arms, causing her to shiver with every fractional movement. They coasted up the side of her face, stopping to smooth the healing bruises before sliding into her hair and brushing the back of her neck. Hana felt a gentle tug as Logan loosed her ponytail and sat the long, red tresses over her shoulders. His work enveloped him, his mind entering another place and time and rendering his expression ethereal. Hana’s resolve weakened a little further. Logan’s dark hair flopped into his eyes and moved with the motion of his eyelashes as he stroked her hair into channels along her back. She reached up and pushed the fringe out of his eyes, wincing as her wrist complained.
Time stopped, holding the moment in its strong hands. Hana felt Logan’s heart beating fast as he pressed her against the wall with his body. Her mind took her back to the green pasture of the mountain, invoking her feelings of excitement and promise. In real time, Logan bent and kissed the bruise beneath her jaw. Hana sighed. Pleasure mixed with pain as promises and a fractured relationship jarred. She lifted her palms to push him away, both hands objecting. “No,” she sighed, her body stating otherwise.
“Okay.” Logan spoke, his voice low and husky. “But it’s not easy staying away from you.” He hesitated as though afraid and then bent to press his lips against hers. Hana felt the pilot light flare behind her navel, at once breathless at the flick of his tongue against hers.
She jumped at the sound of the front door slamming and banged her head on the doorframe. “Ow!” she groaned, running her fingers over the bump on her skull. Her stitches caught in her hair and she cursed in frustration. Logan disent
angled her, his grey eyes never leaving her face.
“Come on you guys,” Bodie called. “Get it while it’s hot!”
Logan smiled at Hana, his dark lashes sweeping upwards in a sultry movement. He didn’t need to say anything, releasing her so she could yank the sweatshirt over her hips and take a steadying breath. It destroyed the moment and she slipped out into the hall, still tasting the pressure of Logan’s lips against hers. She heard him exhale and clear his throat, waiting a moment before following her.
Hana found Marcus and Bodie arguing in the kitchen. Bodie tipped hot meat pies from a plastic bag onto paper plates and turned to complain to Hana. “Mum, he ate a pie on my leather interior.”
“Marcus!” Hana gave him a hard stare. “A pie? Think of the cholesterol and hidden sugar. How will you ever control your condition if you don’t take it seriously?”
Marcus looked ashamed but Bodie spoke through gritted teeth. “What about my seat? It’s got a greasy stain right between where his fat legs were.” He spun around and eyeballed his friend. “And thanks for retuning my radio. I loved driving up here to doomsday music.”
Marcus inhaled. “It’s not doomsday! It’s choir hour with Roger and Marjorie.”
Logan snorted and both men glared at him. He shrugged. “Just give me some kai,” he demanded.
Marcus pushed a plate towards him with a look of betrayal. “I’ll have mine after I’ve checked my levels,” he bit and stalked towards the bathroom.
“You’re worse than children!” Hana groaned. She poured cola from a bottle into mugs and held one out to Logan.
“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s gut rot.”
“So’s that pie,” she replied, jerking her head towards the cheese leaking from the pastry.
Logan shook his head. “Carbs.” He spoke with his mouth full but covered the effect with his hand. “I’ll burn them off.”
“Shut up all of you!” Bodie snapped. “What about my car?”
Hana turned away with an eye roll, sharing a conspiratorial look with Logan. Bodie noticed and resentment stirred in his heart.
Logan left at six o’clock, but not before handing the bouquet to Hana on the porch steps. “I heard about these,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
Logan cocked his head. “I’m surprised they survived in my car.” His brow furrowed and he looked nervous. “I should’ve given them to you last night, but it never seemed like the right time.”
“And it does now?” Hana winced, hearing the suspicion in her voice.
Logan shrugged. “I’ve decided it’s never the right time. And if I die before tomorrow, I’ll regret not giving them to you.”
Hana’s lips parted. “You won’t will you? Die.” Fear back-lit her expression and Logan closed his eyes at his tactlessness. Her husband went to work and didn’t arrive home.
He shook his head. “No. Stupid example. Forget it.” He leaned forward and kissed her over the flowers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Logan watched Hana’s pale face in his rear view mirror for as long as he could, feeling the cord between them stretch with the growing distance. He shook his head at his verbal fumbling and returned home via Achilles Rise as promised. He rang Bodie from the front garden. “Bloody cat went straight onto the roof,” he said. “I don’t know how you’re gonna catch him. How’s the unpacking going?”
“Good.” Bodie surveyed the mess at Hana’s feet. “Slow. Marcus took the cardboard boxes to the bottom of the driveway. It’s recycling day tomorrow apparently, so that’s good timing.” He walked out into the hall and lowered his voice. “Does Mum seem a bit depressed to you?” he whispered.
Logan shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he answered, guilt kicking him in the guts. “I haven’t known her long. What’s she usually like?”
“Not like this.” Bodie glanced into the dining room where Hana twirled a lock of hair and stared at the remaining boxes in confusion. “Did you say something to upset her?”
Logan’s voice became hard. “No.” He sighed. “I can’t get the cat. Cheers.” He disconnected the call and narrowed his eyes, sensing the younger man’s jealousy in the airwaves. “I can see how this is going to go,” he hissed to himself.
“The TV won’t work.” Marcus fiddled with the remote, his face a mask of dismay. “I always watch Police Ten Seven on Thursdays.”
Hana shrugged. “There’s no aerial.” She ruffled Marcus’ blonde hair. “Why do you watch that rubbish, anyway?”
Bodie inhaled in horror. “It’s not rubbish!” he bit. “I’ve been on there!”
“Yeah!” Marcus rushed to his friend’s defence. “Bo’s been on there.”
Hana rolled her eyes. “It’s all hyped up and psyched up for ratings. You went on it once about three years ago. If you went on more often I might bother, otherwise no.” She walked away, her feet padding against the floorboards. “I don’t need a TV, anyway.”
Marcus’ mouth dropped wide open in shock and he jabbed a finger at Hana’s retreating back. “She doesn’t need a TV!” he squeaked.
Bodie laughed at him, tackling him backwards on the sofa. A loud clunk signified it lifting onto two feet and then settling again.
“Stop it!” Hana shouted, her voice far away. “I can hear you!”
The cool night drew in and Bodie tried and failed to light a fire. “This sucks!” he exclaimed.
Hana remembered Logan’s roaring blaze and pursed her lips. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, soothing his sore ego. “I’ve got fan heaters. We can run them for tonight.”
Marcus turned in early, exhausted from the physical exercise and the mobile earache Izzie gave him for eating chocolate. “You told her,” he grumbled and Bodie grinned.
“I didn’t know she’d react like that,” he agreed. “She’s a bit off the wall at the moment. Why?”
“I dunno.” Marcus tucked himself into the double bed, leaving only his eyes above the duvet. “Everything’s a drama at the moment.” He turned on his side away from the hall light and sighed.
“Yeah.” Bodie closed the bedroom door. “Three guesses why, idiot.”
Hana rang Angus. “Stay away until next week, Hana.” He sounded firm. “People think you’re still sick. Let’s leave it like that and review it on Monday. Bodie said they still haven’t caught those men.”
Hana thanked him and rang off. The large mirror from Achilles Rise leaned against the wall in the lounge and she squatted down in front of it. Even its strange tilted angle showed the livid bruising and a graze across her throat. She sighed and ran a finger over the heated skin. “What did he want?” she asked herself, remembering the blue eyes boring into her soul. “What’s stopping him coming back?”
She undressed in the bathroom, craving a hot shower. She’d removed the disgusting shower curtain earlier, placing towels next to the bath to absorb any overflow. Sighing in expectation, Hana clambered into the tin bath and pulled the lever upright, standing back to let the water heat. The noise sounded deafening. A plumber checked everything but didn’t mention the caterwauling pipes. Hana endured a loud experience as warm, hot and then ice water spattered at her from above.
“You okay?” Bodie’s concerned voice sounded muffled through the door.
“Yep. I’m hoping it lasts long enough to wash the shampoo out before blowing up,” Hana called back.
“Awesome.” Bodie’s footsteps retreated and she closed her eyes and braced herself against another round of clanking and groaning as she rinsed her hair.
Hana pulled her dressing gown over her pyjamas as she walked into the kitchen, smiling at her son. “I’ll get the plumber back,” she said, filling the kettle with water. “I won’t cope with that noise every morning.”
“So what’s the problem? Ring him,” Bodie answered, hearing the reticence in her voice.
Hana bit her lip and glanced round, her expression pensive. “I don’t have the number. Logan found him.”
Bodie l
ooked at his mother, suspicion budding in his brown eyes. “Ask him for the number.” He shrugged and watched her reaction.
“Okay.” Hana’s smiled drooped and Bodie leaned back in his chair.
“What’s going on between you, Mum? I can’t work him out. Or you.”
Hana sighed and shook her head. “Nothing. It’s fine.” She gazed through the glass at the dark mountains beyond, her head in turmoil.
“He’s dodgy.” Bodie licked his lips and considered divulging something he’d picked up. “He’s not what you think.”
“What’s that?” Hana asked. “Because I don’t know what I think.”
Bodie shook his head. “Nothing. You don’t need losers in your life.” He waved his hand around the kitchen. “I’ve told you before, stay single. It’s less complicated and you don’t want to lose all this in a bad alliance. A lot of younger men prey on women your age until they’ve taken everything. Then they dump them.”
His words struck Hana to her core and she forewent the promised cup of tea, kissing her son on the top of his head and taking herself to bed. She tossed and turned in her master bedroom, unable to get comfortable. Logan’s arms around her on the cool, wooden boards of last night seemed preferable to her loveless, empty bed. She thought of his expensive clothes and the vastness of the mountain north of Rangiriri, dismissing Bodie’s suspicions as groundless. Logan Du Rose might be guilty of many things, but her gut told her he wouldn’t get into a relationship for cold, hard cash. They met on a train twenty-six-years earlier. She hugged the knowledge to herself, knowing she’d never share the reason for her distress that day with Bodie.
The proximity of Culver’s Cottage to the bush lent itself to amplified night noises, coupled with every other sound bouncing off the surface of the river and reverberating. The railway line to the east sent freight trains every half an hour through the night, mimicking an earthquake as the sound arrived before the train.
Turning on the side lamp, Hana experienced a bubble of irritation. “I can’t sleep in this mess,” she muttered to herself. A tower of clothes sagged against the wall, the uppermost items losing their attempt to defy gravity. Pictures, more pictures and a wooden framed mirror leaned against the French windows. Hana stood in the centre of the chaos, shivering in her pyjamas. With a sigh of resolution, she tidied and continued until the first night in her new home disappeared from under her.
The day dawned clear and bright through the uncurtained windows, the orange orb reflecting its vibrant colour on the river below. It shone along the east of the house, warming those fortunate rooms at speed and causing condensation to pour as steam from wooden surfaces. Bodie and Marcus appeared together in the lounge, finding Hana’s bed empty. “I’m hungry,” Marcus announced, rubbing his eyes. “Is there any breakfast?”
Bodie elbowed him in the ribs and indicated his mother as she reached into the bottom of a cardboard box. Her dressing gown had slipped sideways and her hair stuck out at odd angles. The expression on her face merged tiredness with relief. She jumped as Marcus spoke, almost overbalancing into the bottom of the box and catching herself at the last minute. “Mum! What are you doing?” Bodie demanded.
Dark circles surrounded Hana’s eyes and the increased paleness of her skin betrayed her nocturnal activities. “Look,” she said, waving her right arm around the room. “I’m finished.” Success infused her cheeks with radiance but Bodie noticed the way she cradled her left wrist, favouring the stitched right hand. He followed her gaze and saw the overall tidiness of the room, books neatly placed in the dresser, the furniture arranged and pictures leaned up against the patched walls in their designated places. “What do you think?” she asked, looking for their approval with childish need. The men looked around them, taking in the orderliness of the room while Hana resumed her foraging in the bottom of the box one-handed, uttering from its cardboard depths, “The trouble is, I can’t find everything.”
She looked up to find Bodie gone and a guilty looking Marcus standing in the doorway, too sleep befuddled to beat a hasty retreat with his partner in crime. “Pardon?” he said, as though not hearing the question. Bodie let out an undignified snort from the kitchen doorway.
The kitchen looked immaculate. With everything stored away, the surfaces became clear and free of debris. “Where’s the toaster, Mum?” Bodie called, poking around in cupboards. The old-fashioned wooden doors creaked as he opened and closed them, some of the plastic handles hanging off. He banged door after door until Hana appeared.
“Over there!” She pointed at the cupboard nearest the sink.
“I would’ve got there eventually,” he grumbled. He jerked his head towards the cupboards at ceiling height. “Did you use a chair to reach those shelves?” he asked.
Hana blanched. “I might have. Can if I want to.”
“Mmmnnn.” Bodie rolled his eyes. “So, when you fell off in the middle of the night and lay on the floor dying, we’d find your dead body the next day, would we?”
“It didn’t happen.” Hana pulled her painful wrist closer to her body. She oozed exhaustion and the bone ached. Changing the subject, she pointed out the location of everything he might need. “Crockery and pots are down there and I’ve stored those used least often on the top shelves.”
“Jam?” Bodie raised his eyebrows in question.
Hana pointed towards the pantry next to the old fireplace. “Spreads are in there. Jam is in the fridge.”
Marcus joined them at the table, the men eating and discussing their prospective plans. Bodie waved his toast at Marcus. “I can give you a ride to the airport,” he offered. “I’m going to headquarters at midday.”
“As long as you don’t make me late like last time,” Marcus grumbled.
“You did that yourself,” Bodie retorted. “I can’t be late, I’ve got an appointment and if you’re ready, I’ll take you. If not, get a cab.”
“Why are we friends again? I’ve forgotten.” Marcus opened his insulin case and messed around with the contents.
“We’re not. You’re my sister’s husband and I’m stuck with you. And you left grease on my front seat.”
Marcus stuck out his tongue in defiance, clicking a tiny scalpel blade into the knuckle of his index finger to draw blood. Bodie waved his toast at him in disgust. “Don’t do that at the table! I’m eating. Mum! Mum, tell him!”
Hana rose to fetch a cup of tea, nodding approval of Bodie’s use of the old brown teapot steaming on a coaster on the side. “Nice!” she exclaimed, ignoring the bickering men and pouring brown liquid into a strawberry decorated mug. “Anyone else for tea?”
“Me, please,” Marcus said, examining his haemoglobin levels in a digital reader. “Ah, that’s not good.”
“What?” Hana turned with concern on her face.
“I’m still alive,” Marcus commented and she narrowed her eyes.
“Hot damn,” Bodie muttered over his toast and Hana frowned at him. He waved a greasy hand at her. “I know, I know. Don’t joke about things you don’t mean or you’ll have to live with yourself after. That’s a very pessimistic way of viewing life.”
“Or realistic.” Marcus cocked his head and made a choking sound deep in his throat like a dying swan.
Hana felt a heaviness descend over her. After Marcus, Bodie would leave too. The miserable bits of parenthood sometimes outweighed the exciting parts. Despite the loveliness of the house and Hana’s bewildered excitement at her ownership of it, some part of her wanted to pack up and go away with the boys into their busy lives. Everyone left her in the end. It’s what she deserved.
“I’ll get a quick shower,” Bodie said, dumping his plate in the washing up water. Minutes later, Hana recognised the awful banging and clanging of the pipes as he turned on the water. She looked alarmed, but Marcus shook his head and slurped the last of his tea dregs. He tipped the cup up, looking disappointed he’d finished. “Just an air lock,” he stated with confidence. “It’ll run off when the water gets going throu
gh the system.” He licked a toast crumb off his finger. “Or tap the pipes. That sorts it.”
“So I don’t need a plumber?” Hana asked, relief flooding her face.
“I thought you got one.” Marcus stood to pour himself more tea.
“I did, but he didn’t fix the wailing pipes.”
“He doesn’t need to, Hana. It’s an air lock.”
Hana exhaled, a smile on her tired face. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if life could be so simple?” she asked. “Tap once and all your problems disappear.” She waved her hand as though it contained a wand and winced at the pain in her swollen wrist.
“But it is that easy.” Marcus took his tea and walked towards the door. “It just depends what you’re tapping with.”
The shower behaved for Marcus and they gathered together in the hall, checking he had everything for his return flight.
“You’ll text when you get there,” Hana asked for the tenth time and Marcus rolled his eyes.
“Yes, mother.”
Hana eyed her son with curiosity. “What’s the monkey suit for?” she demanded, brushing lint from his full dress uniform. “Are you heading up a parade somewhere?”
“No.” Bodie laughed her comment off. “Just seeing one of the seniors today.”
“Ooh, medal time?” Marcus asked and Hana’s eyes widened.
“Are you getting a medal? Can I come?”
“Now see what you did!” Bodie frowned at Marcus. “It’s not a medal ceremony, Mum. I promise. I’d invite you to that. It’s just a formal chat.” He watched suspicion fill her eyes. “A good chat. Stop worrying.” He kissed her cheek and went outside to load Marcus’ suitcase into the boot of the BMW.
Hugging Marcus, Hana felt tearful and lost. “Tell Izzie I love her,” she said, fighting the rising grief and managing an extra kiss for Elizabeth.
“Course I will, Hana.” His arms felt strong and safe around her and he kissed the top of her head. “Come and see us again soon,” he said, the invitation genuine.
Hana nodded and waved them off, mopping her eyes so they wouldn’t see her tears as the car bumped around the bend and down into the bush. Pungas and ferns obstructed her view of their descent further.
Bright and pleasant after the cold and misery of the previous few days, Hana gave herself a mental shake. “Come on woman, get it together,” she told herself aloud, her voice sounding incongruous amidst the squawking of birds and hissing of the breeze through the trees. Hana’s wrist hurt after her night of hefting boxes and she wrapped it in a stretchy support, giving some relief. The stitches on her palm itched and she wondered about the merits of trying to remove them herself. The cut looked clean but as she prodded with the kitchen scissors, she noticed blood and lost confidence in her accuracy with her left hand. She washed the scissors and rued her own stupidity.
Hana cleared up the kitchen and bathroom after the boys, finding the floor soaked through lack of a shower curtain. She followed their example, showering and mopping the floor with a dry towel afterwards. Once dressed, she wrote a list of the things she still needed, adding a shower curtain to the bottom of the growing pile of problems. She sat at the kitchen table and surveyed the bare plaster and tired cupboard doors, her dissatisfaction beginning an impatient chant in her brain. Loneliness closed in on her, pouncing and using her boredom as leverage to gnaw at her insides.
Hana snapped. “This is my damn life!” she announced. “And I will live it!” She snatched up the Honda keys, activated the burglar alarm and locked the front door. Then she set off down her steep driveway and headed north towards her favourite shop in Huntly, driving without a single good hand to her name.