The New Du Rose Matriarch E-Book

K T Bowes

• Herausgeber: K T Bowes
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

She thought it was over. She believed she was safe. She isn’t.

With the shock of a tragic death hanging over Logan’s family, Hana takes charge and makes some key decisions. But she’s wrestling with issues of her own and finds herself overwhelmed. When an intimidating stranger corners her with the threat of blackmail, what should she do?

She needs Logan’s help, but he’s still reeling from the family tragedy. If Hana doesn’t play the game, everyone loses. With everything at stake, she picks up the mantle of family leader and rolls the dice to risk what she values most. There is only one winner but will it be her? It’s all or nothing, because the loser dies.

If you like strong female protagonists who will do anything to protect their own, you’ll love Hana Du Rose.

Buy The New Du Rose Matriarch and get a mystery you won’t be able to put down.

A quote from the novel. “Blame and hate are so overrated, my friend. They deliberately draw us backwards and never let us go.”

Leseprobe

The New Du Rose Matriarch

K T Bowes

Copyright K T Bowes © 2013

Published by Hakarimata Press

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

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Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

One Heartbeat

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Last Chance

Other novels by K T Bowes

Disclaimer

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Acknowledgements

I wish to acknowledge my long-suffering family. Only those related to a writer can fully appreciate the frustration of living with one. I wholeheartedly apologise for the numerous times that there has been no dinner, scant cleaning and little fulfilling conversation, while I sought to bring this novel into being. Writing can feel like an insatiable hunger, which for those not involved may feel at times like a curse.

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 naked 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.

Chapter 2

Hana tried the door handle, realising she’d rushed out without her keys. It opened under her fingers. She sighed. “A prospective burglar might feel sorry for me and leave something nice,” she sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her face and streaking sticky tears over her cheeks. The solid weight shifted in her chest at her stupidity. Leaving the pram by the door, she searched the tiny unit for intruders. Her lungs complained as she held her breath but found nobody. Everything remained as she left it, a bomb site of her own making.

Peering into the pram, Hana’s relief produced a sigh as her daughter settled. The sleeping infant looked stunning, dark eyelashes fluttering over olive cheeks. “Sorry baby,” Hana whispered. “I’m rubbish at this parenting thing but I promise to try harder.” Pulling a blanket over the baby’s legs, Hana surveyed the mess in the tiny open plan living room. The washing up from Logan’s breakfast the day before still sat on the draining board and tufts of blanket fluff lay on the tatty rug near the gas fire. It demanded the last of Hana’s energy and her forty-five-year-old body complained at the prospect of cleaning. “I can’t do this,” she said again, indulging the negative self-doubt with defeatism. She sank into the lumpy sofa instead, remembering Logan’s heated phone conversation with the school principal.

“I’m not moving my family in here!” he’d exclaimed. Whatever Angus said in reply had changed his mind and Hana found herself in the dilapidated unit held together by tin and string. Alone. Logan offered no explanation and she left her neat home in the hills in mute obedience, the summer’s awful events still leaden in her heart.

Ripped wallpaper overlooked the decrepit, filthy old sofa. Hana’s body craved a lie on the bed, but the thought of the smelly mattress in the double room made the caved in, mustard coloured sofa seem appealing. She knew the unit challenged Logan’s neat-freak tendencies, not that he spent much time there.

“What am I doing here?” Defeated, Hana reached for Logan’s sweater curled over the back of the sofa and buried her face in it. She smelled his familiar, safe scent and wished for his strong arms to wrap around her tired body. Tears leaked out and droplets sat on top of the wool. Hana watched them trickle down and felt her dam grow closer to bursting.

A familiar creak made her sit up and she swallowed at her forgetfulness. She didn’t lock the front door behind her. Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of the sweater, she readied herself for the kind of visitor who didn’t knock first. Her gaze strayed to the pram sitting beside the opening front door and she tensed.

“Where’s Logan?” Glossy lips curled backwards in a spiteful sneer as the woman’s face appeared around the corner.

Hana released the held breath in a whoosh. “Get out Caroline!”

Logan’s ex-fiancé stood her ground, edging closer with her sassy blonde hair windswept and artfully sexy. She wore tight fitting jeans which stressed her slender figure and Hana rose to face her. She swallowed, not daring to glance down at her rumpled, sick-stained clothes and draw attention to her unkempt state.

Caroline rested a manicured hand on her hip. “I need to see Logan,” she repeated. “Where is he?”

Hana gritted her teeth. “He doesn’t want to see you, so get out!” Her fists balled against her thighs and she experienced an emotional shunt as power borne of insanity coursed through her veins like burning mercury. Caroline’s presence near the pram infused naked maternalism into Hana’s brain and she needed her to move away from Phoenix, whatever the cost. “Get away from my baby!”

Caroline inhaled without looking into the pram. “I’m not interested in your brat! I want to see Logan.”

Hana took a step forward, something dangerous lurking beneath her emerald irises at Caroline’s description of Phoenix. “She’s not a brat. And don’t even speak my husband’s name!” Another step. “He wants nothing to do with any of you. Get out!”

Caroline snorted. “That’s not what he said at Reuben’s tangihanga.” Her eyes narrowed, attempting to throw doubt on Hana’s trust in Logan. But the lie left a burning thread in the air and Hana seized it with relish.

“Liar! I saw you following him around like a love sick puppy!” she spat. Her lips crinkled back into a vicious smile. “He spent the whole funeral avoiding you, Caroline. He lost both his parents and even in his weakest moment, he still managed to avoid you.” Hana laughed, disgusted at the sound of victory in the awful cackle. “Just get out.”

The previous six weeks seemed to condense before her eyes. The fire which claimed two lives was followed by her daughter’s traumatic birth on a mountaintop. Both memories still woke her sweating at night. Caroline’s unwanted presence in her scruffy living room compounded her sense of righteous indignation. Hana snapped.

Her exhausted brain failed to filter the words which tumbled from her lips. She advanced towards Caroline’s lithe shape, anger burning in her green irises. “Why are you here? Do you have another pregnancy to pass off as Logan’s?” Hana moved forward, enjoying the satisfaction of watching her nemesis back away. “Or is it about money Caroline?” Her next step brought her alongside the pram and relief flooded through her veins. Still the lioness’ instinct to protect her young roared like a red haze before her eyes.

Caroline backed towards the door, her hands grappling behind her. Hana advanced, cutting her baby off from a possible threat. “He hates you, Caroline!” she hissed. “Logan hates your guts! He’s glad you jilted him at the altar because that one selfish act led him to me.

Temper fuelled her movements, filling her with a reserve of untapped energy. Tiredness left her body as fight replaced it.

Caroline tugged the front door open and slid through the gap, almost tripping down the narrow steps. Her lips parted but for once, no sound emerged. Hana capitalised on her win. “I’m Mrs Du Rose now and I’ve given Logan a child. Everything you ever wanted belongs to me. Go away and stay away.” She lifted her shoulders and glared at Caroline, guilt prickling the back of her neck for mentioning the other woman’s failed pregnancy. She clasped her fingers behind her spine to stop them shaking while he rational mind rebuked her unkindness.

Caroline hovered on the path outside, her movements jerky and something unreadable in her expression. Hana retreated inside the unit and slammed the door, causing the timber house to shudder on its aged piles.

Phoenix’s tiny arms splayed wide in a fear reaction and she parted her rosebud lips to release a pathetic wail. The dam in Hana’s chest broke and she slid down the ripped wallpaper until her bottom touched the floorboards, sobbing as though her heart might break.

Chapter 3

The child’s distressed hitching ceased as Hana nursed her, tiny lungs rising and falling beneath her pink woollen cardigan. Hana curled her toes at the momentary discomfort as her baby settled at the breast. “I can’t do this,” she admitted, closing her eyes and feeling the tiny fingers fix around her thumb. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Hana owned none of the dilapidated furniture in the staff unit and collected her few belongings while Phoenix fretted in her car seat by the door. “Not long now, baby,” she promised. “We’re leaving before I become someone I like even less.” Her words to Caroline stung, knowing she’d crossed the invisible line of conduct between women. She berated herself, feeling no amount of exhaustion justified such behaviour. “A baby still died,” she whispered. “Not Logan’s, no. But someone’s.”

Self-reproach followed Hana to Ngaruawahia, trailing her up the main highway towards Culver’s Cottage. With every passing kilometre between her and the staff unit, the tension eased from her shoulders. Phoenix slept next to her in the car seat, milk leaking from one side of her pursed lips. The guilt settled to a dull ache as Hana crossed the Waipa Bridge and turned right onto Hakarimata Road.

A mountain range hugged the road, rising above it like a sentry to the west. The Waikato River snaked alongside, sticking close as Hana took her daughter home. She sighed with relief as the black metal gate slid sideways in obedience to the remote in her hand, pushing the car through the aperture and beginning the climb.

The uphill driveway meandered through a kilometre and a half of stunning native bush and Hana sensed her sanity return. At the crest of the hill, Culver’s Cottage winked down at her and promised rest. Hana killed the engine and listened to the car’s clicks as the mechanisms cooled. Birdsong surrounded her. No school bells, no teenage dramas. No ex fiancé watching her from the shadows.

Phoenix snored in the wide lobby as Hana inspected the rooms of her home, breathing in the scent of cleaning products and soap powder. “Why did I let him talk me into leaving?” she demanded of the empty rooms. “I’m letting him run away from his feelings again.”

The late February day sent sunlight into the rooms, offering healing and warmth. Hana showered in a bathroom that didn’t make her want to break out the bleach and dressed in clean clothes devoid of musty aromas. She carried her baby into the kitchen and pulled the blanket away from her gripping fingers. Phoenix snuffled and replaced her thumb between her lips, settling into the car seat with a sigh.

The empty fridge forced Hana to drink black tea and the freezer in the garage disgorged a loaf of bread. A knife separated two slices and almost her fingers and a layer of jam made the toast edible.

“Oh, bloody hell!” The telephone in the lobby gave a chirp, forerunner to a resounding ring. With a nervous glance at the baby, Hana managed to reach it before it trilled and ripped the cord from the socket in the wall. Phoenix slept on, enfolded in the peace and safety of the old house. Sighing with relief, Hana searched the baby bag for her cell phone, groaning at the memory of it sitting on the seventies style coffee table at the unit.

Futility and exhaustion washed over her and she stifled a yawn which threatened to detach her chin from her jaw. Phoenix grumbled in the car seat and Hana sighed. “At least you slept for an hour,” she said, lifting her baby over her shoulder. The child wriggled, bouncing her lips against Hana’s shirt as her eyes darted left and right with interest. “This is our proper home,” Hana whispered. “This is where I imagined we’d live.”

She changed her daughter’s dirty nappy in the master bedroom, laying her on the four poster bed Logan bought before their wedding. She cleaned the squirmy body and worked to rebuild the connection damaged by tiredness and Caroline’s antics.

The injection site on the child’s olive leg appeared less angry and Hana fed her another dose of infant painkiller through a small plastic syringe. “You like that?” she asked in a baby voice.

Phoenix contorted her features, making Hana laugh with the combined sucking and licking she performed at the end of the syringe. Listening to the tinkling sound of her own mirth, Hana realised she hadn’t laughed once since they moved into the staff house. Her mind took her back further, to the week before the fire and she sighed. “What a summer,” she whispered.

Phoenix clenched her fists and beat them against the bedspread, her dark brow furrowing and her eyes squeezing into thin lines framed by lash fringes. “Are you hungry again, Bugle Bum?” Hana asked, lifting her upright and cradling her to her chest. Phoenix rooted against her shirt and made her needs more obvious.

Hana settled in the four poster bed, pillows supporting her back and neck. The luxury of privacy meant she could open her shirt and feed in comfort, her tight muscles aching as she allowed herself to relax.

She woke in a panic three hours later, alarming the baby who snuffled and jerked in her arms. Phoenix kicked her legs and waved her uncoordinated hands, staring at a fixed point on the ceiling. “You’re awake,” Hana said, stroking the smooth olive cheek. “And not crying.”

Phoenix gurgled nonsense and pursed her lips. Her light blue eyes flickered and danced in the afternoon sunshine. Hana checked her nappy and offered the other breast, falling from a doze into a heavy sleep. She twitched as she dreamed of Miriam Du Rose, watching her mother-in-law run into the fire. The orange flames threw their arms wide in delight and Logan’s birth father held his hands out towards her. His fingers beckoned Miriam but his eyes looked at Hana.

Tears ran into her hair as the familiar horror played itself out, robbing her of energy and understanding on a continuous, inescapable loop.

Chapter 4

Hana woke again and fed the stirring baby, keen to prolong their peace. When she dozed, Caroline’s influence snaked its destructive fingers into her slumber. Terrifying images swirled before her and Caroline gripped a wailing Phoenix in manicured fingers. “She’s mine!” she screamed. “She’s Logan’s and that makes her mine!” Helplessness filled Hana’s world and her chest hitched with a terror which turned her inside out.

She woke with a start, grateful for the small body cradled against hers. With a shaking hand she pulled back the blanket and checked Phoenix, relieved at the sight of her closed eyes and relaxed face. Hana pushed herself back against the pillows and waited for her heart rate to slow.

Checking her watch, she saw that six hours of sleep had eaten into her day. Though her red curls stuck up like a banshee’s, her mood felt better.

The sound of the front door’s familiar click reignited the pounding in Hana’s chest. Her body stiffened as an old fear reaction kicked in. “It’s just Caroline again,” she told herself. “I can deal with her.” She lay the baby on the mattress and shifted sideways, ready to launch herself at the bedroom door. Footsteps walked along the hallway, setting off a series of creaky floorboards. Hana inched backwards until her socks hit the bedside rug and she forced her feet to skirt the end of the bed. “Caroline doesn’t have a key,” she hissed. Her fingers gripped the post nearest the door and the green voile cascaded down in the air current.

“Hey.” Logan’s face peered around the door and Hana released an exaggerated exhale. His head jerked backwards. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hana glanced at the peaceful baby and jabbed her head towards the hallway, a finger already making its way up to cover her lips. She followed him on trembling legs, still shaken by the sudden withdrawal of adrenaline. Logan leaned against the wall and pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather trousers. His motorbike helmet sat by the front door. “Have you left me?” he asked, his voice small.

Hana released a whoosh of air. “No, Logan. I’ve left that awful unit. I can’t stay there with a new baby.”

Logan nodded, his dark fringe dropping over his eyes and shuttering his emotions. He gave a short nod. “Okay.” The forced smile didn’t involve his eyes. “Sorry.” He reached out a tentative hand and stroked her hair away from her forehead. “I tried to ring here and your cell phone a few times. Then I went to the unit after school.” His jaw worked in his cheek, creating a dimple which appeared and then receded.

“I haven’t left you, Logan.” Hana pressed herself into his chest, smelling motorbike oil and the warmth of the sunshine on his leather jacket. “I promise.” She let his lips graze hers, sighing with relief as he pulled her closer and enfolded her in his strong arms.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because then I’d have to kill you and bury you under the deck.”

Hana snorted, the sound echoing around the lobby. “No interruptions, cool dark space to sleep. Sounds amazing.”

Logan’s smile made it to his eyes and he bumped the end of her nose with his. “Whatever, Mrs Du Rose,” he replied. He noticed the loose phone cord and bent to retrieve it, tracing it back to the handset.

“Don’t!” Hana stopped him plugging it in. “Just leave it.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed and he drew himself up to his massive full height. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing!” The lie tripped off her tongue and she sensed he knew. She hoped Caroline was responsible for the spooky feelings she had on the school site, but instinct told her not. Her brow furrowed. “I spent the last two days with a crying baby, Logan. She’s sleeping right now. If it’s all right with you, I’d appreciate her staying that way for a while longer.”

Logan dropped the wire as though it contaminated him and strode towards the kitchen. Hana pushed the door closed behind her and leaned against it. “Sorry,” she breathed, running a hand over her eyes. “Just tired and snappy.”

Logan nodded and filled the kettle with water. “No, I’m sorry.” He flicked the switch and sighed. “I let myself get trapped into something I can’t get out of and I’ve made you feel second best along the way.” He licked his lips and picked at a speck of oil on his jacket. “A few more weeks and the new guy will arrive, I’ll go back to teaching and we can come home.” Dumping tea bags into the chipped brown pot, he opened the fridge door and cursed. “Crap. No milk.”

Hana closed her eyes and leaned the back of her head against the door. Logan’s presence brought the outside world into her safe haven and tension crept into her spine. “There’s nothing here,” she whispered, holding onto the ready tears collecting behind her eyelids.

“Sweetheart.” Logan pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. “What can I do?”

Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on his jacket, leaving a streak. “Quit the boarding house job right now and stay here with me.” She pressed her face into his collarbone, enjoying his scent for real instead of through his abandoned clothing at the staff unit.

“This is a disaster, isn’t it?” he replied. “Angus suckered me and I fell for it. I needed a challenge to take my mind off what happened at Christmas.” His voice trailed off and he balanced his chin on the top of Hana’s head.

“I can distract you.” She slipped her fingers under the heavy jacket and parted the buttons of his work shirt. Her lips found smooth flesh. “I can take your mind off everything.” She experienced a flurry of excitement when he held his breath. Glancing up, she saw his grey irises darken with desire. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You have us, Logan,” she whispered. “We love you.”

“I know.” His lips pressed over hers and he closed his eyes. “I love you too wahine.”

Hana squeaked as Logan dipped his body and caught her beneath her thighs. He hoisted her up in one fluid movement. His taut stomach muscles pressed against her side and he carried her into the lobby. “Phoe’s on the bed,” she reminded him as he headed for their bedroom door and he changed direction, laying her on the red rug in the lounge. She giggled as he made an art form out of undressing her, recapturing some of her pre-pregnancy confidence beneath his gentle, solicitous touch.

The peace of the house enfolded them as they reconnected, healing each other through mutual tenderness. Logan kissed the soft skin on Hana’s neck, shifting her curls aside and feeling them cascade through his fingers. His lips felt warm against hers and she responded to his gentle touch.

They lay beneath a blanket, legs tangled together on the rug. Hana leaned her cheek on her elbow and admired Logan’s biceps as he snatched a cushion from the sofa for her head. “I’ve missed this place,” she sighed.

Logan leaned back against the sofa, his expression thoughtful. He played with a strand of Hana’s red hair, twisting and turning the amber tresses in fingers scarred and damaged by cuts which took longer to heal for him. Hana touched his chest, parting his open shirt to run her fingers over the rugged welt snaking across his ribs. She traced it, sensing his gaze fixed on her face and feeling tension hike in the room. His silence said it all.

Dread slipped its horrid fingers around her heart and Hana closed her eyes. Logan pulled her chin up with his index finger. “Look at me, Hana.”

In response, she burst into noisy tears as her fragile peace shattered. “Hey, hey,” he breathed, hunkering down and pulling her closer. “Women don’t normally cry when I make love to them.” His strained humour fell on deaf ears and his forehead creased in concern.

“Don’t make me go back there.” Hana pressed her face into Logan’s chest, her tears leaving sticky tracks through the downy hair. “Please don’t make me.”

Phoenix squeaked from their bedroom and the moment ended without conclusion. Logan heaved in a ragged sigh and stood, hauling his shorts on and leaving Hana to wrap herself in the blanket and follow. Her breasts felt full and sore and she paused at the bedroom door with the fabric clutched at her throat. Phoenix lay in the centre of the huge bed, her legs waggling in the air. Happy sounds issued from her lips and her gaze tracked something unseen on the ceiling. Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on the blanket. “I hope she’s hungry,” she said.

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Probably. But she also stinks.”

Hana pushed the bag of supplies towards the bottom of the bed, guiding it with her foot and watching her daughter. “Your turn,” she said. Phoenix cooed up at her father, enjoying a debate only she understood. “I’ll freshen up.” Hana headed for the bathroom to regroup and dry her tears.

Her resolve crumbled with the click of the lock and she sank onto the lid of the toilet. “I can’t go back,” she sobbed into a wad of toilet roll, muffling the sounds of her misery. “I can’t do this.” She wrestled with her limited options, picking them over as though selecting shells on a beach. If she refused to return to the school site, she left Logan vulnerable to Caroline’s charms and while she doubted he’d succumb, she couldn’t take the risk. The boarding house master’s role stipulated living on site and Angus wouldn’t budge on that issue. With or without her, Logan needed to stay at the unit.

Hana scrubbed at her face with a cool flannel, no nearer a conclusion. “Caroline!” She spat the woman’s name, hating her constant interference and the way it shaped her decisions. “Logan wouldn’t cheat with her,” she breathed. “He wouldn’t.” She believed her own words. Any doubts she’d entertained ended at Reuben and Miriam’s funeral. Logan avoided Caroline with a rudeness bordering on vicious. She’d exercised one betrayal too many and he’d cut her out of his life forever. Hana’s relief felt short lived, especially if Caroline had returned to Hamilton.

She recalled the sounds of the funeral and smell of the smoked taro unearthed from the hangi. The feast should have united a family over the shared meal, restoring noa and normality after the burial. Logan made a pretence of eating the smoked chicken and vegetables and chatting to the marae elders. Only Hana saw his desolation. The boarding house had become his new mission to avoid facing the damaging family secret. His father was not his father.

Hana moved to the edge of the bath and listened to him play with his daughter. His peace seemed so fragile. She mentally traced the line of his tattoo as it wound around his upper arm. The whakapapa portrayed his precious French Du Rose lineage as it intertwined with Māori. Dark and indelible, it followed the wrong line, mocking him every time he looked in the mirror.

They hadn’t talked yet, not in the six weeks since the fire. A gnawing ache flooded Logan’s eyes when he mentioned Alfred. He didn’t speak Miriam’s name anymore. She made her choice, marrying one brother whilst continuing her affair with the other.

Hana dried her face and contemplated herself in the bathroom mirror. She saw long, messy red curls spread over her shoulders and swollen green eyes, puffy from crying. “Not attractive,” she chastised, comparing herself to Caroline with her polished nails and perfect makeup. Thoughts of returning to the school site sapped the rest of her energy and she tried to rally. “You lost one husband and you’re sobbing through your second chance.” She sighed at her reflection, squaring her shoulders and letting the blanket slither to the tiled floor. “You’re not bad for your age.” Her index finger prodded her abdomen and then her left breast. “Get it together, Hana.”

Phoenix represented the start of something pure, a new legacy. Logan made a promise to his paternal grandmother to create something different from their deceitful, adultery-riddled heritage. Her blood still ran through his veins. And his daughter’s. He could still achieve it, but not without Hana.

She freshened her appearance, damping her unruly curls and masking her puffy eyes with makeup. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she set her jaw in a determined line and arranged her features into less of a grimace. She emerged from the bathroom with a different mind-set to the bedraggled woman who went in.

Hana retrieved her clothes from the lounge rug and replaced the blanket. She followed the sound of Logan’s voice to the bedroom. His conversation made her halt just outside the door. “I was fourteen when I met your mother,” he said. “I’d never seen such a beautiful wahine.” Phoenix kicked her legs and a tube of nappy cream flew off the side of the bed. Logan’s expression seemed distant, his mind in London on a dirty tube train almost three decades earlier. He sighed and pulled himself back to the present, his lips curving into a sad smile. “Twenty-six years searching for her and now I’m losing her.”

“That’s not true.” Hana saw Logan jump as she stepped into the room. Guilt and shame darkened his eyes. His long fingers fixed the nappy around his daughter’s rounded belly and he fumbled with the press studs on her sleep suit. Hana heard the portcullis slam down over his heart.

“Will you teach her the old ways?” she asked, perching on the edge of the bed.

Logan shrugged and changed the action to a nod. “Yeah. I’ll help her create her own mihi so she knows where she comes from.” Hana’s heart chilled as he lifted Phoenix over his shoulder and kissed her downy head. “It’s important to know where you’re from, baby. Otherwise you end up like me.”

“Like you how, Logan?” Hana watched his jaw flex in his cheek and he refused to meet her gaze.

“The bastard son of a disgraced uncle,” he replied, his tone clipped and formal. “Hanging onto a heritage that isn’t mine.”

Hana shook her head. “Orphaned and grieving,” she whispered. Logan stood up, the movement jerky and awkward. The baby’s head bounced against his neck and she rubbed her eyes with a tiny fist.

“I’m too old to be an orphan,” Logan snapped, his voice hard. “And I’ll save my grief for those who deserve it.”

Hana sighed, the moment of candid honesty over. She inhaled and rose, brushing imaginary dust from her pants. “I’m ready,” she said, snatching up the bag and reaching for a spare nappy and baby wipes. “Just let me feed Phoe and we can leave.”

Logan shook his head and walked towards the door. “Not tonight,” he said. The scar beneath his right eye creased as he grimaced. “I just called Angus. He’s agreed to renovate the unit. You can inspect it when it’s done and if you don’t like it, we won’t go back.”

“What did you say to him?” Hana’s brow furrowed. “He never caves in that easily.”

Logan’s eyes widened and she saw the latent fire burning in his soul. Something told her the conversation hadn’t sounded pleasant. “It doesn’t matter,” he bit. “He sorts it out, or he finds himself another manager. That’s the score.”

Hana watched as the rigidity relaxed in his spine. His hand shook as he patted the baby’s back and his gaze rested on her face. Irises the colour of slate carved a groove in her soul and she sensed his pain. “My girls are all I’ve got left, Hana. I won’t take any more risks.”

She exhaled after he left the room, listening to his feet pad through the lobby. She ran a hand over her face and rejoiced in her unexpected reprieve. A break from the bugs and the holes in the ceiling gave her a heady sense of relief and she sank onto the mattress. A break from Caroline’s interference and from the eyes which studied her every move, whoever they belonged to.

Chapter 5

A peaceful evening followed the wretched day. Logan drove into Ngaruawahia and fetched fish and chips which they shared in front of the television.

Hana sighed and stroked her daughter’s fluffy head. “It’s nice to sit on the sofa without falling between the gaps in the springs.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan tutted. “I’m sorry.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and stroked Phoenix’s feet.

Hana saw the blackness descend and nudged him. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan shook his head and gnawed on his bottom lip. “I’m wondering what to call my father,” he said. Hana’s heart clenched in her chest at the sadness in his voice. “Do I call him Pa still, or Alfred?” Sighing, he squeezed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb, smiling at the way Phoenix kicked her legs in protest.

“You stopped your massage.” Hana smirked. “Boy, you’re whipped!” Her expression grew serious. “What do you want to call him?”

Logan stiffened. “Nothing right now. Please, can we not talk about it?”

Hana experienced a spark of irritation, but knew pressing him achieved nothing except an argument. “Why did you tell Phoe about how we met?” she asked instead. “She won’t remember.” Her teeth worried at her lower lip. “You won’t tell her I was eighteen and pregnant, will you?”

Logan shrugged. “Not if you don’t want me to. I’d like her to grow up knowing her heritage. It will shape who she becomes.” He silenced, the dark spectre back in position over his chest, forcing him to take stock of what he’d lost.

“I guess.” Hana’s mind wandered back twenty-six years as she snuggled into his side. Logan’s striking grey eyes stared at her from an olive, boyish face. She remembered the wet tears on her cheeks and his mother passing her a handkerchief as the tube train gobbled up another underground station. Miriam. Hana closed her eyes and released a sigh.

“Promise you won’t tell Phoenix why I was crying?” She tensed, wondering why it bothered her so much still. Logan shot her an odd, sideways glance.

“I won’t, Hana. When have you known me betray someone else’s secret?”

“Thanks.” Hana released her held breath. “I’m not sure Bodie ever worked it out. Vik never celebrated our wedding anniversary, so hopefully he’ll never guess.” She sighed. “He wasn’t big on marriage vows either.”

“Hey.” Logan pulled her in tighter. “Don’t rake over old coals, babe. There’s no point.”

When they went to bed, Hana stood in the bedroom cradling the baby and casting around. “The cot’s still at the unit,” she whispered. “What should I do?”

Logan yanked his empty bottom drawer from the cabinet and snatched up a blanket. “Put her in here,” he said, laying it on the rug. Deft fingers created a nest from the blanket and he slipped his warm tee shirt over his head. “Give her here.”

“You can’t do that!” Hana twisted her body to shield the child. “It’s a drawer.”

Logan rose and claimed his daughter. “It’s how I started out, Hana.” His eyes darkened with pain. “Not that it’s any kind of endorsement.”

Hana relinquished the child and watched Logan lay her in the drawer. He swaddled her in his tee shirt, allowing enough room for her to poke her thumb between her lips. Glancing up at his wife, he broke into a smile. “I wasn’t born six foot four, Hana. It’ll work out for tonight.”

“Thank goodness she’s stopped crying,” she said, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “I made a terrible mess of coping. I thought I’d be better at it this time around, but I’m just older and more knackered.”

Logan wrapped his arms around her, his brow furrowing. “I miss your pregnancy curves,” he whispered. “You’re getting skinny. I liked you with bigger boobs.”

Hana pushed his hands away, her lips quirking into a smile. Logan caught her again, trapping her arms and kissing her neck. “Let me say it one more time and then I’ll stop,” he whispered, frowning at Hana’s confused expression. “I’m sorry for allowing Angus to browbeat me into helping him out. It was a big mistake, given our horrific summer. We needed time to heal and didn’t get it. I’m sorry.” He sighed into Hana’s hair and she snuggled closer.

She possessed no magic words to take his pain away. Instead, she pushed her hands inside his shirt. “How about I distract you while Phoe’s asleep?” she offered and Logan smiled.

“I could be persuaded.”

Hana slipped her sweatshirt over her head, revealing the maternity bra beneath. “Oh.” She looked down in disappointment, her sexy image dissipating before her eyes. Logan’s lips curved upwards in anticipation and he bit his lower lip.

“And the rest,” he whispered. The desire in his face emboldened Hana, folding her in a haze of desirability and she shed the rest of her clothing in a series of sexy shimmies.

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan sighed, grabbing her around her waist and edging her backwards onto the bed. He removed his clothes, making Hana wait while he revealed his muscular olive chest and the dusting of dark hair. She followed the line down his stomach, her pupils dilating as it disappeared into his boxer shorts. When he joined her on the bed she reached for him, pulling him on top of her and seeking his lips with urgency.

Some of the pain left Logan’s eyes as they cuddled later. Hana ran her hand between his pectorals, making him shudder as she dragged her finger across his nipple. The baby slept in the drawer, gentle snores punctuated by the sound of thumb sucking.

“She got so distressed after the injection.” Hana stopped herself stepping back into yesterday’s misery, the endless, painful crying and sense of utter powerlessness. “I took her back to the clinic and they gave her pain relief. She cried until after we saw you this morning. Actually, she cried until we arrived here.”

Logan took Hana’s roving fingers in his wide palm and pulled her onto his chest. “You’re a great mum, Hana. Stop being so hard on yourself.” He placed a finger over her lips and she heard the cry of his heart in the whispered words, “We both love her, Hana. She already has more than we ever did.”

Phoenix woke twice in the night, feeding with enthusiasm to help her little body cope with the inoculations. In between, she slept, allowing Hana to shuck her own exhaustion.

“I feel so much better,” she exclaimed next morning, saner and ready to deal with the day. After a six o’clock feed, Hana washed the baby in the shower, handing her out to Logan so she could soap herself.

He stumbled around in his towel, fumbling with a tiny sleep suit and nappy as Phoenix wriggled on the bed. He swore as his cell phone vibrated on the bedside table and reached across to retrieve it. Phoenix sent the tube of nappy cream spinning across the bed with a well-aimed kick.

“Who was that?” Suspicion laced Hana’s voice as she entered wearing a towel, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Logan finished speaking and frowned, disconnecting the call and fixing a steady gaze on Hana’s face. “Who do you think, Hana?” His eyes narrowed and he tugged Phoenix’s foot away from her mouth.

“I don’t know.” She put irritation into her tone and jerked her shoulder upward, wondering if he’d tell her the truth. Doubt crept back into her marriage, infiltrating by degrees with Caroline’s appearance.

“Angus employed contractors last night. They’re working on the unit over the next week.” Logan sounded tired, rubbing his hand over his face.

“He got onto that fast.” Hana swallowed. “He must really want you at the boarding house.”

“Yep.” Logan fastened his buttons while the baby kicked on the bed next to him. He blew a raspberry on her soft stomach and she jerked in surprise. “You can stay here until it’s finished.”

“What about you?” Rebellion raised her tone. “I won’t stay here without you.” She set her jaw in determination and pushed away the sassy image of Caroline.

Logan winced. “I’m rostered on for another night duty.”

“Again?” Hana felt the muscles in her back bunch and panic ramped up its game in her heart. Her fingers fluttered over the knotted towel at her breast. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Logan fitted socks over his feet and eyed her sideways. “We can’t leave the boys without supervision, Hana. It’s my job.”

“But it’s not just yours. There are other boarding house staff, Logan. The duties are shared. I don’t understand why it always falls to you.”

Logan sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Hana saw his jaw working in his cheek and felt the falling sensation creep back into her psyche. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?” She asked the question whilst knowing he would dodge it, her little world tilting to one side as fear took hold. Wrenching the knotted towel apart, she reached for her underwear. “You didn’t think I’d grow suspicious when Caroline turned up yesterday after you’ve spent most nights at the boarding house.” She closed her eyes and blew out through pursed lips. “I’m such a bloody idiot!” Her bra shook in her fingers and the clasp resisted her.

“She did what?” Logan snarled the question and his body took on a painful rigidity. The darkness in his eyes made Hana gulp. His jaw tightened, spitting out the words like bullets. “You think I’m having an affair with her?”

“I don’t know.” Hana finished fastening her bra and hauled her knickers over her hips. “I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.” Snatching a summer dress from the wardrobe, she pushed her head through the hole and let the fabric muffle her voice. “I know I can’t go on like this much longer.”

Logan exhaled. “Geez, Hana.” He rubbed a hand over the bristles on his chin. “Go on like what?”

Hana lifted her daughter from the bed and carried her to the armchair by the ranch slider. She dressed the jerky, rag-doll body in a knitted cardigan. Logan stood and he appeared wooden as he pulled on his work trousers and tucked in his shirt.

“I’m not having an affair with Caroline or anyone else.” His tone softened and Hana felt tears well up her throat and make their way into her forehead. She struggled to hold onto them. “Hana.” He said her name, compelling her to look into his mesmerising grey eyes.

“Fine.” She kept her voice light as she popped a bonnet over the baby’s dark hair. Phoenix blinked and her eyes widened as she searched Hana’s face. Her thumb strayed into her mouth and Hana kissed her soft cheek and tried to drown out the turmoil.

Logan followed her to the lobby and watched as she fitted the baby into her car seat. He waited until she stood up straight and then captured her around the waist, dragging her into his chest. “You don’t believe me.” He said it like a statement of fact and Hana shrugged. Logan inhaled, temper vying for airspace. “What did the crazy bitch say to make you think that?”

Hana shook her head. “Nothing, Logan. She asked where you were and said she needed to see you. I said some spiteful things and she left.” She bit her lip, not wanting to admit quite how spiteful.

Logan sighed. “She wanted permission to stay at the motel with Nev and his family. I told her no way. She left.”

Hana’s eyes narrowed and she leaned back so she could see his face. He kept an even grip on her waist. “And?”

Logan tutted. “And she tried to kiss me. And she made threats. And then she left.”

Hana shook her head. “Would you have said anything if I hadn’t mentioned it?”

Logan’s brow furrowed and he appeared to give it serious thought. “I don’t know.” His honesty stung. “I don’t think so. Things were okay between us. Now they’re not.”

Hana closed her eyes. “Things were not okay, Logan.” She freed her arms and pushed against his chest. “We call the occasional truce when we’re both too exhausted to fight, but that’s not okay.”

Logan released her, taking a step backwards as hurt slithered across his face. “I thought things were good.”

Hana snorted and bent to push her feet into her sneakers, wrinkling her nose at the pretty dress paired with comfortable shoes. “You’re never around, Logan,” she said, tying the laces with shaking fingers. “How would you know?” She glanced up to witness him clenching his teeth. When she stood, she picked her words with care and aimed them to cause deliberate hurt. Something had to give and she’d grown tired of it being her. “We both watched your mother die, Logan. She committed suicide and chose death with her lover over life with her family.” Hana stuck her chin in the air. “Bottling it up won’t make the pain go away and nor will spending your life at work. If you won’t talk to me, at least talk to someone. Angus. Anyone.” Hana flapped her hand towards his ashen face. “I’m done with the hard-man act, Logan. Do I wonder why you’re not at home with me and our daughter? Yes. All the bloody time. Do I think you’d go back to your ex fiancé? Probably.” Logan’s eyes widened and his lips parted, ready indignation ready to rain on her fire. Hana sighed and bent to seize the car seat’s handle. “Right now you’re a loaded gun and I have no idea what will make you pull the trigger.” Her chin wobbled as emotion threatened to spill out. “It sure as hell makes you unpredictable and I’m tired of raising our daughter alone. It wasn’t what I signed up for.”

Hana left while Logan remained speechless. She closed the door behind her, sensing guilt follow her down the porch steps. Loading up the car seat, she left. “I know you’re suffering,” she breathed as she joined the rush hour traffic. “But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

Chapter 6

Hana used her card to access the rear gate. The barrier rose and she entered the school site with deliberate slowness. Boarders spilled over the private road. She pressed her foot to the brake as a group ran in front of her, their faces grimacing in panic as the bell tolled from the main building.

A wave of misery buried her beneath self-pity as she turned onto the narrow road between St Bart’s and the staff units. Joined in twos, they presented a picture of dereliction and filth. Hana pulled alongside the unit allocated to Logan and lowered the passenger window enough to hear Phoenix cry. She readied herself for a quick in and out visit. “Two minutes,” she promised, drawing in a fortifying. “I don’t plan to stick around long.”