Deleilah Read online

  Deleilah

  Small Town New Zealand Series

  K T Bowes

  Published by Hakarimata Press

  Copyright 2016

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  Acknowledgement

  Violence against women is a huge issue in New Zealand.

  Within the dusky mountains and deserted beaches of Paradise lurks a monster of hideous proportions. It drives through our streets and hides behind the front doors of respected businessmen and women, latent and ugly in the extreme. I am grateful for the peace and safety of my own marriage but have met mere girls who mask wounds much deeper than black eyes or split lips. They nurse broken hearts, destroyed dreams and damaged trust; inflicted by those who were meant to save them.

  They will have the last laugh; the faint of heart and the bruised in spirit.

  They will - because someone will be sent to make sure of it.

  Isaiah 42:3

  A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice.

  Half the cost of this novel will be donated to Waikato Women’s Refuge, which is the safe place for women in the area this novel is set.

  They are hoping to fund a third safe house.

  You can find out more about their work HERE

  Chapter 1

  Dee Hanover

  “Dee! Dee Hanover, this way, Dee!” The young man trained his camera on Dee’s lithe body, snapping shots of her as she exited the court house. “Look at me, Dee!”

  Dee watched in slow motion as the man’s body jerked to life and the camera leapt to his eye in a reflex action, desperate for the best shot possible. He possessed a kind face filled with youth but his photos would contain cruel angles, each frame combed to produce the one with the most devastation on her face, the slump of her shoulders and perhaps a digitally added tear or two. “I won’t miss this,” Dee muttered to her lawyer and he smiled.

  “It should die down now, at least until you fall in love and marry again.”

  Dee snorted. “Right! Never then.”

  “Dee, how did it go? Anything helpful you can say to the women of New Zealand?”

  She stopped so quickly, the elderly lawyer ran up her back. “Don’t!” he hissed as Dee opened her pretty lips to speak. “Don’t!” he said again, his face falling into a grimace as he saw her glazed look.

  “Yeah,” Dee said. She took a step towards the journalist standing next to the cameraman. Both looked elated. The blonde highlights in her straightened hair glinted in the summer sunshine and her faultless makeup played to the camera lens, a striking woman with immense anger in her blue eyes. “Tell them not to marry arseholes.” Dee tossed her head, squared her shoulders and walked towards her lawyer with catwalk precision, putting on a show for their benefit. The tears would come later, in private.

  “I can’t print that!” the journalist shouted and Dee gritted her teeth. “They won’t let me print that!” he repeated, tutting at her retreating back.

  “He’s out!” the cameraman shouted, gripping his camera and moving off in an ungainly run with the strap around his neck, pulling his head forward. Dee stopped to watch as a crowd of journalist, photographers and news reporters gathered outside the front of the courthouse to greet her husband. He postured in an expensive suit and tie, his salt and pepper highlights giving him a distinguished look which Dee always loved.

  “Come on,” the lawyer said, dragging at Dee’s arm. “The last thing you need is a long lens taking a shot of that look on your face. It would make the perfect headline.”

  Dee allowed herself to be led along the street to the lawyer’s aging vehicle. The Jaguar sat in the safety of a private parking garage off one of Auckland’s busy main streets and the old man waved to the attendant as the car moved through the barrier. “Can we drive past the courthouse?” Dee asked, a slight catch in her voice. “They won’t see me through the tinted windows.”

  The lawyer nodded and obliged, slowing down as they passed the wide steps covered in Michael Hanover’s adoring paparazzi. Dee took a long, last look at the man whose cruel revelation sank her world in one sentence, waiting for the emotional bite in her heart to kick in. Nothing. “Former husband,” she whispered.

  “Pardon?” The bristly beard turned in her direction and Dee’s lawyer tipped his head to hear better. “I didn’t catch that.”

  “I said, former husband,” she repeated. “That’s who he is now. I need to stop calling him my husband.”

  “I know it’s hard,” Derek Gallagher patted her hand. “But you’ll start again.”

  “No I won’t.” Dee’s jaw showed through the line of her soft cheek as she stared through the window at the Auckland skyline. She picked at an acrylic nail on her index finger, trying to remember what her own looked like underneath. The polish chipped under her picking, overdue a trip to the beauty salon. She’d made an appointment for the day before and then cancelled, unable to face the bitchy women for whom she was no longer a soldier in arms, but a piece of gossip to be picked over. “What did I do wrong, Derek?” she asked, her voice plaintive. “I thought he’d tell me what I did wrong.”

  The old lawyer sighed as he parked his prized vehicle outside the neat villa in an Auckland suburb. He took Dee’s right hand in both his, arthritic joints pressing through twisted skin. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. You married young, built a business together and he traded you in. Thirty-eight is no age, my love. I promise you’ll find love again, but this time we’ll make a pre-nuptial agreement to protect you.” He caressed her writhing fingers with fatherly care and Dee gripped his hand as though searching for a lifeline.

  “Did we do ok?” she asked, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Did I lose everything?”

  “No.” The divorce lawyer smirked, his foray out of retirement as a favour to a friend, the highlight of his year. “We asked for fifty percent of his business and settled at thirty-five. It’s not fair but it’s enough. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch thought you were desperate for control of the company and his fancy lawyers focussed on minimising the damage.”

  “Well, I did want more control,” Dee sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I wanted to be part of things when we were married; go to board meetings and make suggestions instead of Michael using my vote. At least now I know why he didn’t want me there. It’s probably not a good idea to have your wife there as a director and your mistress taking shorthand.”

  “No, indeed.” Derek patted her hand. “Dee, after we spoke last, Mabel and I talked and I made some changes to the settlement. I need to talk them through with you.” He peered into Dee’s glazed eyes and nodded. “Let’s go inside for coffee. Mabel’s done baking; can’t you smell it?” He raised his nose and sniffed like a dog. “Blueberry muffins. My favourite.”

  Dee shook her head. “I think I’ll grab my car and just go,” she sighed.

  “No, you won’t,” Derek said, heaving his eighty-year-old body from the vehicle. “I’m under strict instructions to take you inside or Mabel won’t speak to me for the rest of the day. And seeing as it’s probably one of my last, I can’t afford to waste it!”

  “Don’t speak like that!” Dee’s bottom lip wobbled as emotion rose like a tsunami in her chest.

  “Now, now,” Derek soothed, tugging her arm to get her out of the passenger seat. “It hurts now but it won’t always, I promise.”

  “How would you know?” Dee complained into the laughing brown eyes. “You’ve been married for fifty years.


  Derek’s face became serious as he peered at Dee, the lines under his laughing eyes more obvious in the sunshine. “I was a divorce lawyer a long time, Dee. I’ve seen all the cruel and spiteful things done in the name of love. I saw abuse, depravity and terminal selfishness until I was sick to my stomach. And then I came home to a good woman and appreciated her so much more because of the poor souls I interceded for.”

  Dee nodded as the first tear dripped from her long eyelashes, taking a blob of expensive mascara with it. Derek knew the warning signs and clicked the central locking on his Jaguar, taking Dee’s arm and helping her up the steps to his home. Dee leaned on his crippled frame, remembering Michael’s hoot of laughter as the old man stood in court to face the judge. Her husband’s legal team, selected from his array of private school drinking buddies, snorted and nudged one another as the old man said his piece. They agreed to the terms, surprised at how easily the old man allowed them to beat him down to thirty-five percent for twenty years of participating in one of New Zealand’s biggest information technology companies. Less than half the company for twenty years of raising her daughter while Michael worked late, living on loans and scraping together food, doing the books until they could find an accountant and taking cleaning jobs to bridge them during the worst times. Dee shook her head as the numbness cleared and sheer devastation set in.

  Chapter 2

  Hamilton

  “Why Hamilton, Mum? You could’ve stayed in Auckland.”

  “I didn’t want to, Seline.” Dee stared around the sparse apartment, enjoying the panoramic view of Hamilton Lake. She heard her daughter tut down the line.

  “But you’ve left everything. I drove over to get my stuff and it’s like you just went out to get your hair done.”

  “I don’t want it,” Dee said with a sigh. “All the pieces from my father’s estate are here with me. The rest can be sold as part of the divorce settlement and I’ll take my share.”

  “Dad told me you could have it all.”

  Dee kept quiet, knowing her daughter experienced the filtered version of the truth and not wanting to drag her into the messy divorce. “It’s sold now. The house clearance people will take it away.”

  “So you’re not coming back at all? Not even to go through it with them?” Seline’s voice sounded flat and Dee’s heart ached in her chest, making her tired with the effort of keeping the agony from her voice.

  “No, sweetie. But you can visit me anytime. I have a spare room.”

  “Ok. Semester break’s in two weeks; Maybe I’ll come down then and see how you’re doing for myself. I don’t believe you’re ok.”

  Dee smiled into the phone. “I am fine but I’d love that. How are your studies going?”

  “Good. Mum, Dad wants me to meet his new girlfriend. What shall I do?”

  The constriction in Dee’s heart became painful, thinking of the leggy blonde playing mother to her beautiful redheaded daughter. Without her. “I don’t know,” she answered, keeping her voice level. “You’re an adult, Seline. Do what’s best for you. Don’t let me influence you. I guess if you want a relationship with your father, it’s inevitable.”

  “But she’s only five years older than me. It’s gross! When she started primary school, you were giving birth to me. There’s something wrong with that.” Seline’s voice had an edge of pique and Dee smirked, despite herself.

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” she sighed. “But I’ll back whatever decision you make.”

  “I love you, Mummy,” her daughter said and Dee bit back ready tears.

  “I know,” she replied, needing to end the call before the familiar depression surrounded her and dragged her into its maw. “Love you too, baby.”

  Dee sat at the table and chairs provided by the landlord and sniffed into a tissue while the sun set over the lake. The water shimmered in shades of orange and gold, reflecting the underrated glory overhead as the Creator put on a show for her. A warm breeze drifted in from the east, ruffling her hair like a soothing hand. She sat until her equilibrium returned enough for her to think about dinner. The month of hibernation had made her skinny although she wouldn’t need the tanning salon after the hours she’d sat on the balcony reading. The poets were helping her through; Coleridge, Keats and Wordsworth, understanding her devastation like a soothing mantra. Dee ventured out only to the local supermarket, no longer hounded by anyone likely to take her photograph or shove her on a front cover. Nobody recognised her as the IT mogul’s wife and the town of Hamilton welcomed her into its comfortable nest without fanfare. It cared nothing for her shock divorce which had rocked Auckland socialites, its local newspaper concerned more about an elderly lady mugged for her pension and a local man who grew a pumpkin as big as his ten year old grandson.

  Dee’s mobile phone rang as she lifted the cardboard box from the microwave, the cottage pie filling the room with its heady scent of food and preservatives. She glanced at the screen, seeing Michael’s name emblazoned there and cringed. Derek told her to wait for this call, warning her it wouldn’t be pleasant. Dee examined her nails while it rang, the acrylics now long gone. They looked short and neatly filed, growing by themselves without the salon veneer; another vestige of her false life gone.

  The phone stopped and Dee pushed a fork into the food without disgorging it from the packaging. It tasted fake and she sighed as the frantic ringing began again. “Hello, Michael.” She kept her voice business-like, as though they’d never tumbled giggling into bed, raised a baby or known each other’s bodies like their own. The thought made her stomach roil, the idea of unwittingly sharing Michael’s gym hardened body with another, enough to induce a bout of vomiting.

  “How could you?” His first words sounded a heady mix of shock, vitriol and dismay. “After twenty years, how could you do that?” Michael’s sense of injustice and self-pity set off a flare in Dee’s brain and she stared into the phone, open mouthed.

  “I could ask you the same question.” Her gritted teeth hindered her words in their stilted exit.

  “I wondered why you used that old man as your lawyer. I’ve had him investigated and he’s known for this type of thing. How could you?”

  “The house is sold and the money will be divided as per our agreement. We shouldn’t need to speak again unless it’s while attending functions related to Seline’s progress. Goodbye, Michael.” Dee hung up, her hands shaking and the woodenness of her spine creating an ache in her ribs. She exhaled, allowing the last vestiges of respect for her former husband to leave with the breath. No longer hungry, she pitched the tray of sloppy food into the dustbin under the sink and shoved the fork into the dishwasher with the others. Then she dialled Derek’s number.

  “Michael just phoned,” she told his wavering voice as he greeted her with affection. “He’s finally spotted your loophole.”

  Derek cackled with laughter, punctuated by a cough. “I wish I’d been there,” he said and Dee heard the smile in his voice. “Hey Mabel,” he called to his frail wife. “Michael Hanover only just found it, after a whole month.” Dee heard his rasping breath down the phone line as he held the receiver close to his mouth. “Mabel says that’s a record. Nobody’s ever taken that long before.” He cackled again.

  “Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Dee said, dread filling her heart. “What can he do to me?”

  “Nothing,” Derek assured her. “He’s just another private school boy trying to play with the Auckland big kids and his arrogance made him trip. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. That’s what you get for using drinking buddies to sort out your agreements. I did my research and these particular jerks were funded through private school by daddies with money to burn. They’re not well regarded and spend more time snorting coke than studying corporate law. They have good names but nobody with an ounce of business sense would use them, nobody but a man with an over-inflated ego and jumped up ambitions. It’s a shame; you did great together but now it’s over. You were a team and he broke it.”
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  “I feel like I’ve wronged him.”

  Derek laughed. “Like he wronged you? Perhaps in a different way. Pretending you had plans for the company and soliciting the support of his other board members only let him believe you had plans to stay. They focussed on that instead of the alternative. You’re a great actress, love.”

  “I wasn’t acting. I did what you told me. So why do I feel guilty?” Dee asked, watching the last rays of sun disappear beneath the lake’s horizon. “The bank won’t extend him any more credit so he can’t buy me out.”

  “You feel bad because you’re a decent person,” Derek answered. “And that’s why I took your case. Your father supported me when I started out and I wanted to repay his kindness. He didn’t have to use a broken down alcoholic to draw up his legal papers; but he did. He was like a brother to me and I never forgot. Now we’re even.”

  Dee gulped thinking of her father. Michael insisted they sell the stud farm in the lee of Pirongia Mountain when Hector Dereham died so unexpectedly, even though Dee sobbed she wanted to keep it. He ploughed every last cent into his computer business, allowing her only the pieces of furniture she wrote on a tear stained list. Dee wiped her nose on her sleeve. Hector’s lifetime of skill with horses and lost financial legacy had been vindicated. Dee smiled for the first time in ages.

  The text came just as she settled down to sleep in the king sized bed which came with the rental. Dee sat up to read its lighted display in case it was Seline, seeing more of Michael’s vitriol on the screen. ‘You can’t do this. I’ll fight it! You can’t sell your share to him!’

  Dee turned her phone off and snuggled into the pillow she’d treated herself to. The memory foam cradled her head and neck and she sighed with satisfaction. Michael’s pretty boy lawyers spent so long minimising her control as a director, they ignored the fact that Derek had no intention of letting her sit at a board table with her philandering husband ever again. They overlooked Derek’s additional clause, added far enough into the paperwork for a rookie or a recreational dope taker to miss. Deleilah Jane Hanover could sell her thirty-five percent of Aloadae Communications two months after the date of settlement. Michael Hanover had eight weeks from notification to fulfil his first option clause or face the prospect of a new part owner. He’d wasted four of them celebrating his victory. Derek already had a buyer and Dee grinned, satisfaction filling her heart at Michael’s reaction when he discovered who.