The New Du Rose Matriarch

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hana Du Rose pushed the pram across the soccer field without seeing in front of her, willing the baby to stay asleep. A prickling sensation crept up the back of her neck, plaguing her with unease. She turned her head to survey the empty field. Nothing. Yet the sense of someone watching remained.

The child fretted in the pram, raising her tiny hands to her ears and tossing her head in quick movements. “Hush,” Hana crooned, placing one foot in front of the other in a haze of misery. “I can’t do this,” she hissed in desperation. “It’s worse than I remember.”

Baby Phoenix Du Rose spent the entire night screaming, taxing Hana beyond her ability to stay sane. Reacting to her six-week inoculations, she bumped across the school field as her mother tried the last trick in her repertoire to get her to sleep. Hana shivered beneath the eerie sensation and turned her head again. Still nothing. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m so tired, I’m creating monsters,” she grumbled.

Her feet turned in the direction of the school boarding house and an early dew speckled the cricket pitch. She’d been walking since before dawn and every step seemed more laboured than the one before. “Let’s find your father,” she murmured. “I bet he enjoyed a lovely night’s sleep.”

Phoenix groaned in the pram in reply and Hana rubbed at her tired green eyes again. Her eyeballs ached in their sockets. The baby brought her knees up to her chest in pain and opened her mouth, emitting a piercing wail. Hana increased her pace, distress adding itself to the guilt of failed parenting. She’d wanted to vomit as the needle penetrated the spindly little olive-toned leg, feeling a traitor as she held onto her child and allowed the atrocity. This was her punishment for the betrayal. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, adding a rocking motion to the handle of the pram. “I’m rubbish at this.”

The pram bumped across the crease in the centre of the cricket pitch as Hana registered a momentary stab of anger at her husband. “He promised,” she hissed. “He promised it wouldn’t be like this.” Logan hadn’t discussed taking on the extra duty as the boarding house manager as a favour to the principal. He’d announced it days after arriving back in the city. Hana ground her teeth, knowing it impacted on her more than either of them imagined. Four night duties in a row left her coping alone with a new baby. The constant sense of being watched frayed her nerves to breaking point.

“Oi!”

She turned, swinging the pram around to face the shout. A quad bike sped towards her, not slowing until the last moment. The head groundsman hurled his stumpy body from the vehicle and strode the final two metres towards her. His pocked face bulged with fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted into her face, spraying spittle into the air and onto Hana’s red curls.

The sleepless night caught Hana up in one overwhelming punch and she gaped, her lips producing no sound. Unsatisfied, the man jabbed a finger into her chest. “Get off the cricket pitch!” he bawled. “Wheeling your effin pram over it. Especially the effin crease!” He waved his arms and backed towards the bike, his expression showing no recognition of Hana’s bedraggled state. Jumping onto the quad bike, he whirled it in an arc and drove straight over the hallowed pitch without regard, flicking up dust behind him. Hana’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Her gaze strayed to the pram as Phoenix opened her eyes and let out another wail.

Hana abandoned the pram outside the dining hall of the boys’ boarding house. Dating from just after the Second World War, St Bartholomew’s complimented the illusion of affluence with its gabled roof and mock Tudor facade. As a private institution, The Waikato Presbyterian School for Boys commanded an appropriate price tag for the bespoke education and opportunities it promised. Hana scooped her daughter from the blankets and as Phoenix wailed again, she fought the urge to hand her off to Logan and make a run for it. Guilt coloured her cheeks pink with shame and she kissed the bobbing downy temple. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Silly thoughts. I’m just exhausted.”

The baby’s face made a picture of misery as her unfocussed eyes tried to latch on to the shapes and colours whizzing past. Hana walked through the lobby and into the dining room, her eyes downcast and the set of her shoulders oozing defeat. A hundred pairs of eyes turned to watch as she appeared in the entrance. Phoenix gave a pitiful wail and Hana cringed.

“Hey Miss.” A tall, dark haired boy greeted her. Dressed in a prefect’s white shirt with black-and-white striped blazer, he cut an imposing figure as he separated himself from a group of younger boys.

“Hi, Acton.” Hana dropped her gaze, aware of her red hair escaping from its ponytail accompanied by shapeless tracksuit bottoms and sick-stained hoodie.

“You looking for Mr Du Rose?” He smiled and Hana nodded. Phoenix stopped grizzling and her head nodded comically as she tried to focus on his face.

“She won’t stop crying,” Hana blurted, surprised by her spontaneous confession of failure.

The teenager reached out an olive finger and slotted it into the baby’s little fist. “They do that don’t they?” His face held a knowing expression. “My baby brother squalled when he came out and he’s still going.” His lips curved upwards. “He’s fourteen now.” Seeing the misery cross Hana’s face, his cheeks reddened with guilt and he back pedalled. “This little girl won’t be like that, she’s a Du Rose.”

“What does that mean?” Hana regretted the words as she sensed his confusion. Acton gulped and his gaze coasted across the dining room. He spotted Logan striding towards them and swallowed. “She wouldn’t dare do half the stuff my brother has,” he hissed. Twisting his lips into a quizzical smile, he retreated back to his knot of adoring fans. The younger boys fell into line behind him like a family of ducklings.

Hana’s breath caught in her chest with a familiar sinking sensation as her stomach flip-flopped. Logan Du Rose’s Māori heritage exuded from him in the smooth olive skin and dark wavy hair. He moved through the rows of chairs with ease, already lifting his lips in a smile at the sight of his wife and daughter. His immense personality dwarfed Hana, rendering her ragged by comparison. In a split second, she moved from relief to inadequacy.

“How is she?” Logan accompanied his words with a kiss to Hana’s forehead and a matching one on his daughter’s crown. Boys turned to stare and he disregarded their smutty interest. His strong arms encased his girls in safety and Hana sighed. She hid her face within the folds of his expensive jacket and heard the murmurings of teenage voices.

Phoenix’s head bobbed as she searched for Logan’s face, tears still drying on her cheeks. Logan smoothed them away with gentle fingers and responded to the hitch in her chest. “You still unhappy, baby?” he whispered. His grey eyes flicked upwards to regard Hana, irises the colour of slate. “Should we take her to the doctor?”

Hana shook her head. “I took her last night. He thinks it’s a reaction to the jabs. I’ve filled her with pain syrup, but she needs to sleep.” She sighed. “I can’t get her to drop off, Logan. I’m exhausted.” She yawned and Logan winced.

“Sorry.” His lower teeth gnawed the inside of his lip. “I need to help you more.”

“Mr Du Rose?” A boy spoke his name and waited to the side, twisting his fingers in expectation. When Logan turned to face him, the boy gushed out his problem. “Darren’s puked up in his bed. He asked me to fetch you.”

Hana sensed the wave of uncontrolled emotion rise from her chest into her throat. She tamped down the urge to shout and scream, to wrestle her husband’s attention back from the seething mass of fragile male egos in his care. Her eyelashes fluttered with the effort of controlling her tears and she stared at the parquet floor while Logan dealt with the child.

“I should go,” she muttered, turning away to release him. “I’m in the way.”

Logan’s fingers clamped around her forearm, holding her in place. “Ask Matron to take a look at him,” he said, his tone impassive as he spoke to the edgy boy. “I’ll go up to see him in a minute.”

The child nodded with relief and Hana ached to dump her problems on someone else and run. She backed away, her daughter’s cheek bumping against her chest. “Will I see you later?” she asked, the question holding more rebuke than she intended.

“I’ll walk outside with you.” Logan made a hand action to one of the prefects and the boy nodded. Like a well-oiled machine, the teenager assumed command of the dining room without question. A hundred pairs of eyes watched Hana leave and she sifted the sensation in her tired brain. It felt different. Curious, not hostile eyes followed her progress and instinct told her whoever watched from the shadows didn’t possess teenage acne and raging hormones. She sighed and in the corridor, Logan rested an arm around her shoulders. “You’re doing great,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“No, I’m not!” Hana raised her voice and then swallowed. An embarrassed flush coursed up her throat and added colour to her cheeks. “I didn’t agree to be a single parent, Logan. This isn’t fair.”

“I know, I know.” Logan looked around him before drawing her through the front doors. He pulled her to the side and waited until a group of boys passed out of earshot. “It’s not what we agreed, but I’m getting there, I promise. A few more weeks and we can go home once the new manager arrives.”

Hana groaned and turned her face towards the brightening sky. “But it’s too hard, Logan! The staff unit is uninhabitable and you’re never home. The last time I had a tiny baby to care for I was twenty-five years younger.”

Logan’s eyelashes fluttered and Hana saw conflict flicker behind his eyes. Sighing, he reached for Phoenix, hoisting her over his shoulder in strong, tender hands which belied his physical strength. Hana felt n***d without the child in her arms, not sure what to do with her hands. Her fingers twisted and writhed in front of her. Logan edged her away from the entrance. “The boys will stampede in a second. Let’s get out of the way.” He pressed a kiss against Hana’s forehead, his brows knitting when she didn’t respond.

Hana straightened her spine as the bell sounded from the main building, a raucous peal ripping through the airwaves. She held her hands out to collect the baby. “Go back to work, Logan. I’m fine.” Forcing a fake smile onto her lips, she ignored his narrowing eyes and the suspicion in the line of his lips. She lay Phoenix in the pram and the child fussed before closing her eyes and pushing a tiny thumb into her mouth. Hana felt the tension ease in her shoulders at the promise of peace.

“Hana.” Logan waited for her to finish releasing the pram brake and then spoke her name again, putting more force into it. “Hana?”

She rubbed her eyes and turned to face his perceptive scrutiny. “I’ll see you later.” With a dismissive wave, she walked away. The oppressive staff units appeared in her peripheral vision and she bit her lip against the scream bubbling into her chest.

“Hana!” Logan raised his voice and forced her to turn, his authority tugging at their tenuous connection.

“What?” After a cautious look at her sleeping daughter, Hana turned.

“I know something’s going on.” He kept his tone even and Hana fought the instant desire to swallow.

She clenched her jaw and shook her head with a little too much emphasis. The lie tripped off her tongue. “I’m just tired,” she insisted. Forcing a smile onto her lips, she gave a final wave and left.

Shouts and jeers betrayed a fight breaking out on the first floor and Hana capitalised on Logan’s distraction to push the pram away with as much confidence as she could manage. The prickling sensation returned, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to look for its source. Experience told her she wouldn’t find it. Boys milled around her in obedience to the bell’s summons, their presence holding no fear. Hana’s knuckles showed white as she gripped the handle of the pram and she put her head down and stalked across the field.

She didn’t see the shake of Logan’s head before he let the front doors swing behind him. Nor did she notice the figure watching her from the boundary of the school grounds. Hana didn’t see. But she felt the burn of the intense interest as she bumped the pram up the front steps and into the dilapidated staff unit.