“You’re mistaken, Reka. Hannah moved down here for her job.
I was just the bonus,” he said solemnly. “I’ve already been put right on that
one.”
“The bonus?”
Hemi shared a look with Reka and laughed.
“Don’t think you’ve ever been called that before, mate.”
“So you just happened to get a job in New Zealand, after
you’d met our boy here?” Reka teased.
“Could we move on to another subject, please?” Hannah asked,
smiling but embarrassed. She nudged Drew in the ribs with her elbow to let him
know what she thought of his sharing, but he just chuckled.
“Here’s an easy one, then,” Reka continued, unperturbed.
“How did you two meet? You were here on holiday, right?”
“That’s almost more embarrassing,” Hannah admitted. “He
rescued me.” She told the story, laughing at herself, but Hemi frowned with
concern.
“Nothing to take lightly, those rips. You need to be careful
in the sea. Heaps of drownings every year. Not just tourists, either.
Fishermen, kids. Good job Drew was there, I’d say.”
“I know,” Hannah answered, sobered. “It was my lucky day. I
do know that.”
“Sounds to me like it was Drew’s lucky day, eh,” Hemi
answered.
Hannah was happy to be rescued from the conversation by the
arrival of some of the other guests. She liked Reka and Hemi, but she wasn’t
sure she wanted to share the details of her relationship with Drew. Not when
she was so unsure of it herself.
The evening wasn’t a late one. Several of the other players
and their wives had young children as well, and a general exodus to relieve
babysitters emptied the house by eleven. Hemi and Reka moved around slowly,
picking up glasses and straightening furniture as they chatted about the
evening.
“Drew’s fair gone, I’d say,” Hemi commented. “Not sure about
her.”
“She’s a lovely girl,” Reka answered. “I do wonder why she’s
holding back. She’s not playing games, I don’t think. Just careful, maybe. Probably
why he fancies her so much. Bit of a change for him, isn’t it.”
“Well, don’t ask her about it,” her husband advised with a
smile. “You embarrassed the poor girl something chronic tonight. Reckon she’ll
think twice before she has a chat with you again.”
Hemi was wrong, though. Hannah found herself beside Reka in
Auckland’s rugby stadium two weeks later for a game against the Otago
Highlanders, New Zealand’s southernmost team.
“Welcome to the WAG section,” Reka smiled at her. “Football
Wives and Girlfriends,” she explained as Hannah looked at her questioningly.
“Don’t they say that in the States?”
“If they do, I’ve never heard it. But this is my first game
to watch in person,” Hannah confessed. “I have no idea what I’m about to see. I
hope you won’t mind educating me a bit. I saw the game they played in
Wellington last week, on TV. And the announcers helped a little. But I’m still
pretty confused.”
“Course I’ll help. How was your first fortnight at work,
then?” Reka asked as they waited for the stadium to fill and the game to begin.
“Good, I think. I think I’ll like it. It’s different. I’m
not used to that open-plan office space, for one thing. No cubicles, even. It’s
a little distracting, I find.”
“We don’t like private offices much. We like people to be on
an equal footing. And to chat, maybe,” Reka conceded. “But I can imagine it would
take some getting used to.”
“Otherwise, though,” Hannah went on, “it’s good. I like the
people. Everyone’s been really friendly. And I’m figuring out how I can help,
where I can make a difference. One thing that’s better, I sure could get used
to leaving by five-thirty every day. Sometimes I even leave at five,” she
announced proudly. “Like tonight.”
“Didn’t you do that before, then?” Reka asked.
Hannah laughed. “Not even close. More like eight. I still
get in pretty early in the morning. But it’s nice to have the whole evening.”
“Reckon Drew wouldn’t be too happy if you were at work late
every night,” Reka agreed. “The boys need their sleep during the season. How’re
you coping with being left on your own when he’s gone? I realize it’s only been
a couple weeks, but it takes some getting used to. Can get a bit lonely.”
“For me, this is a lot of companionship as it is,” Hannah
explained. “But my work colleagues have been really welcoming also. One of them
took me over to Devonport for the day last weekend, and we had a great swim at
one of the beaches there. I’ve had quite a few invitations to go out, too.”
“Really,” Reka replied, eyebrows lifted.
“Don’t worry,” Hannah said hastily. “I’ve declined those,
the ones you mean. I meant invitations to go out for a drink with the group
after work. Things like that.”
“I was wondering for a moment there. But you and Drew are
exclusive, eh. Not in some kind of open relationship.”
“Yes—at least, I think so,” Hannah answered with a frown.
“We’ve never actually discussed it. I guess we should.”
“Always good to know. Not a bad idea to make sure.”
“Oh, look,” Hannah pointed out, grateful for the diversion.
“They’re starting.”
“So what exactly are Drew and Hemi doing?” she asked, as
play got underway. “I know Hemi’s a back, and Drew’s a forward. But what does
that mean?”
“Drew’s on the front lines there, doing the grunt work,
going after the ball. Hemi’s more about offense—the flash bits,” Reka explained.
“Drew’s a flanker, Hemi’s a first five-eighths. Although both forwards and
backs play both offense and defense. Not like American football, where you have
separate teams for each. More like hockey, I reckon.”
“Hemi’s kicking now, see?” she pointed out. “Moving the ball
forward. They can only carry the ball, pass it backwards, or kick it, to move
it forward. You’ll see them kicking it a fair bit, just to get it onto the
other side of the field, even though the other team may recover. Kick and chase
football. Especially if they’re stuck back near their own try line.”
“There’s the breakdown, when play stops and starts again,
when the player goes to ground with the ball, once he’s tackled. And where
they’re piled up, that’s the ruck,” Reka went on.
“Look now,” she instructed, as Drew stopped the Highlander
carrying the ball in his tracks with a bruising tackle, then jumped up fast to
allow the other player to pass the ball back and play to resume. “That’s what
makes him the best. He’ll do that all game long, you watch. Got stamina to
burn, has Drew.”
“Hemi’s an All Black too, right?” Hannah ventured.
“For the past five years,” Reka nodded. “They’re selected
every season, though. No guarantees. A player may start one year, or even one
series, then be in the reserves the next—or not on the squad at all. With five
New Zealand Super 15 teams to select from, there’s heaps of talent. And only
fifteen starters.”
They stopped talking for a while, watching as the Blues got
the ball back, then passed it expertly in a choreographed series of moves that
steadily advanced them toward the other team’s goal. Finally, Hemi flicked the
ball in a deceptively simple motion to a player who came up quickly, reversed
directions, and neatly outmaneuvered the charging tacklers to dive across the try
line at the corner marker, sliding in on his stomach, the ball stretched in
front of him.
The crowd rose and cheered the try, Hannah and Reka with
them. Reka held her breath as Hemi lined up for a kick from the outside corner
of the field. Hannah watched, amazed, as he proceeded to slot the ball neatly
through the goalposts from the impossible angle, and another two points were
added to the five already on the board.
“And that’s why he’s an All Black,” Reka explained proudly.
“The offload—the pass. “And the kick. That precision, that’s what New Zealand
rugby’s known for. Precision and toughness.”
“I still don’t understand the scrum, though,” Hannah
commented after the Blues had cruised to a seemingly easy victory.
Reka laughed. “Neither do I, entirely,” she confessed. “Some
things are just mysteries. You’ll have to ask Drew. But wait now. They’re doing
the captains’ speeches. You’ll want to see this.”
Hannah looked to the big screen, and saw the losing captain
being interviewed in a corner of the field. Then the camera shifted to Drew,
standing with his hands on his hips, looking battered, and her heart leaped.
“Yeh, it was a good effort by the boys,” he was saying.
“We’ll keep working on winning the lineouts. We held well when we had to,
didn’t turn the ball over.” He continued for a few more sentences, then nodded
to the commentator and turned away.
“Do they always do that? The captain talks, not the coach?”
Hannah wondered.
“Yeh,” Reka answered, smiling. “You’ll get used to hearing
his standard speech. ‘The boys did well, showed a lot of ticker. Still have
some work to do,’” she mocked gently.
“Don’t you worry about it, though?” Hannah asked her, as
they made their way toward the exits. “It’s so rough.”
“I never like seeing Hemi heading into the blood bin,” Reka
confessed. “To get stapled up on the sideline. But that’s the game.”
“They get stapled on the sideline?” Hannah asked, startled.
“And then keep playing?”
Reka looked at her curiously. “Course they do. Can’t play if
they have blood flowing. Get stapled to stop the blood, and they’re back on
again. The trainer takes the staples out after the game, stitches them up more
neatly. Didn’t you notice?”
“I didn’t notice the stapling,” Hannah answered faintly.
“Haven’t you seen Drew’s scars, then? He’s got a fair few.”
“Yes,” Hannah admitted. She had been shocked the first time
she realized what all the marks on his back and chest were, not to mention his
face, she remembered. “But that just seems so . . . brutal.”
“It can be a brutal game,” Reka conceded. “They say soccer
players spend all their time pretending they’re hurt. Rolling on the ground and
that, whingeing,” she said contemptuously. “And rugby players spend all their
time pretending they’re not.”
Hannah had arranged to spend a quiet Saturday with Drew as
he rested after the game. Waking with a sore throat and headache, she
reluctantly called him to cancel.
“Sorry you’re feeling crook,” he sympathized. “Rest today,
then. I’ll come by later, check on you.”
“No,” she insisted. “I’m not going to risk you getting this
too. It’s probably just a cold, but you don’t need that. Because I can go to
work if I’m not feeling well. You can’t.”
By the afternoon, she was glad she had kept him away, as her
temperature began to rise and she felt the telltale ache in her joints that
signaled the flu. She gave up the attempt to clean her apartment, turned off
her phone, and climbed into her nightgown and the comfort of her bed, where she
lay, shivering and miserable, the rest of the afternoon.
She woke from a doze to the sound of the doorbell. She tried
to ignore it, but the buzzing persisted. At last, she pulled a blanket around
herself and made her way through the fading light to the front door. She wasn’t
entirely surprised to find Drew there.
“I texted you, but you didn’t answer,” he frowned at her. “Decided
I’d better check on you.”
“I have the flu, I think. Don’t come in,” she warned, taking
another step back so as not to infect him. “I just need to rest, that’s all.”
“What do you need?” he insisted. “Do you have Panadol?”
She squinted at him, feeling muzzy and stupid. “What?”
“Panadol. Paracetamol. Painkiller,” he explained
impatiently. “Do you have any?”
She shook her head, then winced at the pain. “I’m OK,” she
insisted wearily. “Just go away and take care of yourself. I need to go to bed,
that’s all.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Lie on the couch so you can
get the door again.”
“Hannah,” he said firmly when she protested. “I won’t come
in, if you don’t want me to. But I can pop round to the chemist for you.”
True to his word, he was back within thirty minutes, handing
her a bag of supplies. “Flu medicine, Panadol, hottie—hot water bottle. And
some chicken soup. I’ll text you tomorrow. Text me back, this time. And go back
to bed now.”
She had to admit that the medicine helped. Waking up still
feverish on Monday, though, she reluctantly called Kathryn, the Marketing
Director, and made her excuses.
“I’ve heard it’s going around,” Kathryn said sympathetically.
“I hope you feel better soon.”
“If I’m still home tomorrow, maybe I can do some work from
here,” Hannah offered. “I hate to be out sick so soon after I started. I almost
never get sick. I’ll do as much as I can.”
“No,” Kathryn told her. “Stay home and rest till you’re
better. I’ve seen how hard you work. Your sickness benefit doesn’t officially
begin until you’ve been here six months, but we can extend it to you in
advance, in this case. No worries. Get some rest now.”
Hannah gratefully took her advice. Just making the call had
exhausted her. As she drifted back into an uneasy sleep, she wondered what
Felix would have done if she had been sick for several days during her first
month. She’d never have had a second month.
“No,” she told Drew again on Tuesday when he called. “You
can’t come over. You leave tomorrow,” she insisted, before breaking off for a
bout of coughing. “I’m not giving this to you right before that long flight to
Perth. Besides, I’m better. It’s just the cough now. I barely have a fever
anymore.”
“You may want to see a doctor for that cough, though. I’ll
text you a number and address. Will you promise to go, if you’re not better
tomorrow? Wish I weren’t leaving. If you’re still this sick tomorrow night,
I’ll ring the doctor myself, make him come round to see you.”
“Bacterial bronchitis,” the doctor pronounced the next day,
when Hannah reluctantly dragged herself to his office after another sleepless
night. The antibiotics he prescribed made the difference, and she was able to
return to work for a short day on Friday. She was relieved, though, to be back
home again in the evening, tucked up in a blanket and watching the Blues on TV.
Seeing Drew put forth his usual intense effort, she was grateful she’d kept him
from getting sick too.