Du Rose Legacy

Chapter 3-3

Feeling jaded and fretful, Hana shuffled off to bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. The shirt of Logan’s she pulled on smelled of him and underlined his absence while the moreporks sounded louder in the bush as though on purpose. The baby danced a jig in her womb and at midnight, Hana admitted defeat and got up again. She wandered to the kitchen without turning lights on and closed the door behind her. Flicking the spotlight on over the hob filled the room with a calming glow and she started to relax. The boiling of the kettle sounded deafening in the silence and Hana made tea for herself. It didn’t take long to ferret out the chocolate biscuits Logan hid in the cupboard under the sink and she smiled to herself at his rubbish hiding place. “I told you I didn’t want to find them, Du Rose,” she sighed. “You’re slipping.” Liza’s accusation came back to t*****e her and Hana put them back without taking one. A note fluttered to the floor as she shoved the biscuits behind a can of furniture polish and she pulled it out.

“You’re not fat,” Logan’s slanted handwriting proclaimed. “You’re beautiful and I love you just the way you are. Eat them all.”

“Oh, Logan!” Hana sank into a kitchen chair and pressed the paper to her forehead. “How do we put this right?” The baby jabbed her with a sharp kick as though to remind her of its presence. She rubbed her left hand over her growing bump, grateful for the solidarity.

Hana drank her tea and stared at the pile of mail in the centre of the table where she left it. A flesh creeping itch worried her beneath her cast and she twitched, trying to shake it free. Distracting herself, she reached for the envelopes, noticing holes in the electricity bill where a slug made free with the post box. She flicked it aside with her fingernail, deciding Logan would deal with it when he got home. When. Not if.

“Not again!” she groaned, staring at the address label of the one underneath. “How many more times?” Her brow knitted in irritation at the idea that a company named, ‘CircleLine Holdings Ltd’ might be using her address. She’d sent four letters back to the sender, marked as ‘unknown at this address’ in the past month.

“I should search for them on the internet,” she told the cat as he lapped up water from his bowl and purred. “You’d think the black vivid and capital letters I wrote it in last time might give them a clue that they’re writing to the wrong address.”

Tiger yawned. It didn’t affect his wellbeing and he didn’t much care what arrived or left in the post. As long as it wasn’t him.

Hana fingered the envelope one-handed and contemplated opening it. She rejected the idea, knowing she couldn’t do a proper job of disguising her nosiness with only one hand. “I think it’s illegal to open someone else’s post too,” she said to the cat. “And we’re in enough trouble for one day.”

The kitchen door creaked open and Hana jumped in guilt. She slid the offending envelope beneath the chewed power bill. Liza stepped into the room, her clothes still immaculate as though she hadn’t slept. She eyed Hana’s cup of tea and sighed. “I’ll get you one,” Hana said, jumping to her feet.

“Thanks.” Liza scraped out a chair and sank into it. She watched Hana’s quick but clumsy movements, her gaze taking in the man’s shirt and bare legs. When Hana turned, she gasped and swore.

“What?” Hana panicked and looked down at herself, imagining the slug transferring itself from the envelope to her. She swirled on the spot, inspecting herself for unwelcome creatures.

“You’re pregnant!” Liza spat. “You kept that quiet.”

Blood rushed to Hana’s porcelain cheeks and she remained silent, making tea with a shaking hand. It bought her time to think as she waited for the kettle to re-boil and picked at a loose strand on the end of her plaster cast. No sparky answer presented itself to her exhausted brain. She put Liza’s tea on the table and stepped back. “I’m going to bed,” she said with a tight smile and headed for the door.

“When is it due?” Liza demanded, turning in her seat.

“January.” Hana gripped the doorhandle in her fingers.

“So that’s why he married you.”

Hana bridled with natural indignation. “No!” she spat. “Just a little wedding gift and none of your business.”

Liza snorted. “That’s what you think.”

Hana gritted her teeth and snorted through her nose. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Logan is a grown man and makes his own choices. We don’t need your permission to have children.” She stumbled from the room and slammed the door behind her. “b***h!” she hissed into the empty hallway.

Sleep arrived with surprising ease after Hana’s spat with her sister-in-law and the alarm clock woke her from a deep slumber. After a messy one-handed wash, she found Liza at the kitchen table eating toast over an expensive laptop. She swallowed her pride. “Please can you give me a ride into town?”

“I’m leaving now.” Liza shoved the last piece of toast between her glossy lips and snapped the laptop lid closed. Hana groaned and abandoned any thoughts of breakfast.

Liza’s lips quirked upwards in amusement as Hana slammed the front door behind her. She hopped down the porch steps wearing one boot, trailing the other along with her handbag in her left hand. Dropping into the low-slung car with her possessions and hamstrung arm proved awkward. Liza made no attempt to help. Hana fumbled her seat belt into its fastening and sat back with a sigh. Liza glanced sideways at her stomach. The tight cream jumper revealed either a budding baby bump or a serious case of pie eating and Hana wasn’t sure which she preferred. Liza inhaled and started the engine.

Exchanging only directions on the way through Hamilton, Hana found herself spat out in the front car park of the school, still wearing only one boot. Liza left with a squeal of tyres and a flick of her luxurious hair. Exposed in her revealing jumper, Hana’s confidence left and she felt n***d. Her body betrayed her by indicating to the school population that she’d enjoyed great s*x on enough occasions to get pregnant. Her hurried marriage seemed only five minutes ago and Hana’s lips tightened into a smirk at the memory of her energetic husband. In his absence, the child brought her comfort.

She walked towards the front steps, her heart yammering in her chest. The boys who held the door open for her seemed not to notice, issuing a polite greeting before bounding down the steps. The staffroom proved a different matter.

Fingers pointed and the general hubbub silenced as Hana stalked through to fetch the post. Hushed conversations took place behind hands and she sensed the prickling sensation of a painful blush sinking into the roots of her hair. Angus accosted her below the guidance counsellors’ post box as Hana reached up for a stack of envelopes. He jerked his head towards her protruding belly. “Very clever,” he said with approval. “Are we trying to detract from your husband’s current predicament?” He used the term we in the royal sense, already distancing himself from the aftermath of Logan’s arrest.

“Not on purpose.” Hana shrugged and stared through the glass partition into the staffroom. Sheila waved, enjoying her few moments of fame at having known about the baby for a while. Keeping silent almost killed her.

Angus leaned back against a bank of pigeonholes. “So, when everyone wants to congratulate Logan and can’t find him, what will you say then?”

“I don’t know.” Worry returned, a wave crashing over her head like an icy bath. “I know nothing.” Hana ran a hand over her face. “I’m living from hour to hour and thought work might help.”

Angus placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, keep busy. News will come. Our Logan’s not a fool.”

Hana snorted. “If you listen to his sister, then it’s clear I’ve made him into one.”

“A fool for love?” Angus removed his hand and tapped his chin. “I like that. It’s so contrary to my understanding of Logan Du Rose that it entertains me.” He inhaled through his nose and smiled. “I’ve told the board of trustees nothing as yet. I’m hoping I don’t need to.”

“They’ll suspend him.” Hana’s shoulders sank. “Then they’ll fire him.”

“Maybe not.” Angus winked and sauntered away, his hands linked behind his back in a casual stance.

Hana got on with her work, jumping at every sudden noise. The sound of the bell seemed louder than usual and she spilt a cup of herbal tea over a student’s psychological assessment. “b****y hell!” she groaned as the pink liquid spread like a rash.

“Any news yet?” Pete stage-whispered in her ear. He sprayed the side of her face with foul smelling spit.

Hana shook her head. “No. Please tell no one where he is.”

“Gwynne knows,” Pete hissed. He rolled his eyes. “I needed to break the news to him about his car. The cops impounded it as evidence.” He shivered and leaned closer. “That guy is one crazy assed dude, but he won’t tell anyone.”

Hana sighed and nodded. Her arm itched beneath the cast and the joint ached. “Logan will take me to the hotel when he gets out. I’m not safe in Hamilton, thanks to Boris.”

Pete nodded in sympathy. “Yeah. Sorry, Hana.”

Sheila regaled everyone with excitement over the expo, unaware of her assistant’s agony. “I can’t believe it. This year, we’re so organised.” She beamed. “Everything is ready and we’re a fortnight out from the event still. I’m amazing, don’t you think?”

Pete’s gaze slid from Sheila to Hana and back again. He opened his mouth and closed it. Hana swallowed; glad she’d finished her tasks early. If the worst happened, Sheila could manage without her.

As Pete shot off to the tuck shop at the sound of the interval bell, Hana lifted the handset of her office phone. Sheila emerged from her office and shook her head. “He’s addicted to those pies,” she groaned. “I won’t touch them. I dated a butcher once and he said they’re full of ear holes, eye holes and a*s holes.”

Hana swallowed down the acid which leapt into her throat and allowed herself an involuntary shiver. Then she wrinkled her nose. “So, they’re full of nothing then?”

Sheila c****d her head and her face creased into a smile. “Oh. I never thought about it like that. Yes, all holes. Brilliant.”

She drifted from the room and Hana heard her berating boys in the corridor for leaving orange peel on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialled the hospital’s number.

“Are you a family member?” the receptionist asked. Hana heard a trolley moving past in the background. She considered impersonating a fake German sister and then pushed the ridiculous thought away.

“No. Colleague. And friend,” she replied.

“I can’t give you any details,” the woman said. “He’s comfortable.”

“Comfortable? Thank you.”

“Can I say who’s calling?” The question proved slick enough to force Hana into a stutter.

“Sheila,” she rasped through a dry throat. “Jennings.” Then she hung up.

Her forehead hit the table with a bump. Her idiocy rose up to bite her at her near mistake. Giving her name when Logan sat in a jail cell smacked of a death wish, but giving Sheila’s reeked of dishonesty. With a sigh of regret, Hana continued with her work, guilt driving her past home time.

“See you tomorrow, Hana.” Sheila smiled as she grabbed her car keys and handbag. She jerked her head towards Hana’s stomach. “You look amazing. Don’t listen to the gossips.”

“What gossips?” Hana’s muscles tensed in dread and she watched as Sheila bit her lip.