The Quilt (4 page)

“What d
o you mean, my condition?” she snapped.

“You are pregnant.  Remember?  After the baby is born and lambing is over we will go away for a few days and you can have the Cottage repainted in any colour you want
.”

Leslie was flushed and Paul knew she would not be pacified easily.

“I am sick of being left here alone.  It is so isolated.”

“Well
, take a car and go into town.  You could meet up with Angela or take Jean with you.”

“No
, I don’t want to!”

Paul turned away and walked towards the bathroom.

“You will have to do something about that bloody dog of yours.  She keeps slipping the bolt to her kennel and trying to follow you.  Perhaps she should be put to sleep if she is too lame to work.”

He stopped mid stride.  Had she done something to aggravate Jess’s injury?  Was that why the old dog had been
too sore to go out for the last few weeks?

“
Don’t you dare do anything to harm Jess.”

Leslie dropped her eyes and her cheeks coloured slightly.

A cloud of steam followed Paul out of the bathroom.  Leslie had disappeared and he no longer felt hungry enough to eat.  He collected a thick woollen blanket and settled down on to the green leather settee.  He would be a father to his child, he would provide for Leslie but he could no longer pretend to be her husband.

Cha
pter 2

“Paul
& Leslie Clarke”

“I hate it.  Most days he is gone before the sun comes up and I am asleep before he gets home.”

Angela put a reassuring hand over Leslie’s.

“What about getting a job in town, an interest or learning a new skill?”

Leslie arc
hed a delicate eyebrow.  Angela was not being at all helpful. 

Leslie had not mentioned that Paul now resided in the lounge
, choosing to sleep on the settee rather than in their bed.  She had also not mentioned that the relationship had been ground down to a paper-thin morning greeting or a curt evening acknowledgement through gritted teeth.  That the cracks in her marriage had widened into giant canyons and that the rural lifestyle made her feel like she had been marooned on a remote, uninhabited island.  Why the hell had she thought a baby was a foundation solid enough to build a future on?

“Did I tell you the bastard came home with a Harley Davidson a few weeks ago?  He hadn’t even asked me if he could buy it
!”

“
Perhaps he needed something for himself.  You know he didn’t want to get married in the first place.  Perhaps you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Leslie jolted upright. Her hand snaked across Angela’s cheek with a resounding crack.  The café fell silent.  A couple sat in stunned
silence; a woman raised her hand to suppress a muffled giggle.  Angela stood and looked down at her friend sadly.

“Go to hell
, Leslie.”

She
then turned and walked away.

Leslie had no interest in the daily running of the farm.  Her lack of knowledge was proving an unexpected advantage.   Paul could easily justify returning later than necessary and therefore delay or even avoid the inevitable heated verbal exchanges and inedible food that greeted him on his return.

It was late June and t
he rain had reduced to a light drizzle that fell constantly and sent silver lines to dance in front of the harsh headlight.  It was too wet to detour to the ridge or ride the Harley through the winding, narrow country roads.  He shuddered under the weight of his clothes. Despite the heavy oilskin Paul had worn all day, he was wet to the skin. 

Five
Huntaway dogs and Jess, his border collie, ran happily beside the bike.  They were ready for their kennels and biscuits after working all day on the hills.  Paul had been over on the back of the farm repairing a break in the electric fence.  It had allowed cattle to work their way into the forestry block.  It had been a long day.  Too long and he was returning even later than was normal.

Paul tur
ned the bike into the Cottage drive.  The light was still on, glowing dimly from behind the closed curtains.    As the headlight arched, his father stepped out of the darkness.  He was alone in the miserable wet, his head bent against the weather, his oil skin running rivets of water to pool in muddy puddles around his gumboots.

“What the hell are you doing out at this hour
, in this weather?” 

Sean
looked anxious and weary. He looked like a man with something to say but no words to express it.  Paul began to kennel the dogs, making sure they had clean water and a portion of biscuit each.

“Did yo
u fix that fence?”  Sean continued without waiting for a reply.

“We will need to lock up for silage for winter-feed.  T
he weather forecast is predicting more rain.”

Paul held up his hand.

“Dad, only someone mad would choose to stand out here in this weather wanting to talk about winter feed.  Tell me what is on your mind so that we can both get cleaned up and dry.”

Paul looked towards the Cottage.  There was going to be an argument unless Leslie was already asleep.

“Your mother has asked if you could come up to the house before going inside.”

“
You’ve got to be joking? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?  My reception isn’t going to be very good at home as it is.”

The curtain had moved in the Cottage.  A small stream of light filtered weakly across the puddles.

“No, sorry son, this is important.” 

Jean stood nervously wringing her hands and looking into the comforting glow of the fire.   The temperature had not warranted lighting a fire but stacking the kindling and placing the dry logs in the hearth had been a distraction. On the huge main table sat a half full tumbler of amber scotch.  It was not often that Sean drunk and when he did there was always a reason and the reason was always serious.

Sean sat down and took a
large gulp. 

Without greeting her son
, Jean turned her back and put on the jug.  It was not necessary, but allowed her time to calm down and compose herself.  

“I think you had better tell me what is going on
.”

“Did Angela visit you yesterday?”

“No, she didn’t visit me, but I think she called in to see Leslie.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“I am not sure why you would be interested?  But, no, we exchanged a few brief words as she was leaving.  She asked if everything was going well and that’s about it. Perhaps you had better explain.  Angela can’t be the reason you sent Dad out in this weather to find me?”

Paul frowned recalling
how Angela had pushed past him, her face flushed and her eyes unable to meet his.

“It’s
Leslie; well, no, it’s actually the baby.”

Paul felt his mouth go dry
.

“W
hat the hell is going on?”

“There is no easy way of telling you this Paul
.”

The jug started its high pitched scream and
was spewing steam towards the spotless ceiling.  Jean felt her eyes moisten and brushed impatiently at her face.  She had had time to find the best way of speaking to Paul.  But now the words fell out in a messy pile.  She inhaled deeply.

“I
’ve had some concerns that Leslie has not been showing signs of a developing pregnancy. I’ve even asked several times if she has had her routine medical check-ups.” 

Jean hesitated
before continuing.  This wasn’t easy.

“
Paul, she is not pregnant.  There is no baby.”

“What the hell are you talking
about?  She has been moody and I guess that is just hormonal changes.  If there was a medical problem or if she had lost the baby I would have known.”

“Paul, there never was a baby.”

Jean
’s words were hardly audible. 

“I really don’t know what the hell you are talking about.  I saw the positive
pregnancy test myself.”

Paul felt the sweat break through his damp skin
, enveloping his tired body in an uncomfortable slick.  He felt unable to breath under the heavy oil skin.

“Paul
, you saw Angela’s positive pregnancy test.  She called in to the Cottage yesterday and tried to convince Leslie to tell you herself.  They obviously had an argument.”

Paul sat down heavily. 
Was Leslie mad?  What the hell had she been thinking? 

Jean continued.

“Angela said she gave
her one day to put things right. She told Leslie if she didn’t tell you herself then she would.  Angela came to see me this morning.  She said she couldn’t face you again, but needed to make sure you were told the truth.”

“Paul
, she was terribly upset.  I know Angela has been party to a very costly lie.  But I believe she is suffering terrible guilt now and was manipulated, like we all were.  Once she stood back and saw the whole picture she has at least tried to do the right thing.” 

Paul stood up abruptly and grabbed the back of a chair for support. 

“Fuck!”  

Paul turned on his heel.  He reached for the half full tumbler of scotch on the table and gulped the hot, soothing liquid down.  He walked to the airing cupboard and took out the first warm blanket he could find.  It smelt faintly of mothballs.  He strode to the back door without saying another word.  He had almost reached the handle when he hesitated.  Jean looked up in time to see him take the almost full bottle of scotch from the cupboard before walking out.  

T
he door slammed closed and Jean made a move to follow.

“No
,” said Sean.  It was a simple command.

“This is something he has to sort out for himself
.”

“Fuck
,” said Jean.  It was the first time she had uttered that word.  She dissolved into tears.

Paul woke with a dozen demons armed with tiny hammers trying to escape from behind his eyes.  The empty scotch bottle lay on the wooden slats of the shearing shed.  It bore testament to Paul’s unsuccessful attempt to drink himself into oblivion.  The rain had vanished and sun streamed through the dusty cobweb covered window biting at his alcohol saturated brain. 

Jess lay on the floor in front of him.  She had let herself out of the kennel dur
ing the night and now eyed him through solemn pools of liquid brown.  Paul reached down and gently patted the old dog’s head before crawling back under the mothball-smelling blanket and shutting his eyes.

It was then he
felt her enter the shed.  He hadn’t seen or heard her, he just knew she was there. Paul raised a hand against the glare of the morning sun.  Leslie looked small and vulnerable.  Her eyes were red, although her makeup still looked unblemished.  Her makeup always looked perfect.  Today, it irritated Paul more than usual.

S
he held a suitcase in her right hand.   He waited for her to speak.

“I need
you and I needed you to stay.  That’s why I did it.”

Hesitantly
, she continued, her voice, toneless.

“I thought I would get pregnant
as soon as we were married.  You wouldn’t realize the timing was slightly out and I know we’d have been happy.  We would have been a family.”

Her tone changed and became laced with bitterness.

“But you were never here, you were always working.  You didn’t even take me on a honeymoon and you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me.”

Her eyes wandered to the old dog that lay beside Paul.  Jess curled up a lip and omitted a small threatening growl.  Leslie looked
away towards the window and into the mass of small flecks of dust that were suspended in the shafts of morning sun light. 

Paul remained silent. 
Was there ever a time he had really loved this pitiful, insecure woman? How would it have been possible to raise a child with anyone this destructive? He should feel anger but there was only emptiness, he had allowed himself to be deceived.  He had given the power to someone else to manipulate his future. It would not happen again.

Paul
said nothing, his eyes were unreadable.  Leslie searched their depths for a hint of hurt, for the softness that was once familiar.  When had he last looked at her in that way?   She shuddered.  He wouldn’t allow her to go.

“We could still make this work.
If you really do want to be a veterinarian we can move close to the campus.  Buy a nice house and start a family while you study.  A manager and Sean can run Twin Pines.”

“No Leslie
.”

He sounded like a stranger.  Leslie bit her lip. 
He wouldn’t let her go.

“You can’t be serious
, Paul.  What do you want me to do?”

Paul slowly
rose to unsteady and unwilling feet.   The only sound was the dull slow thump of Jess’ tail on the hard wood slats.

He reached for
the heavy suitcase taking it gently from Leslie’s hand.  Her face relaxed and her lips parted.  Paul stepped away from her open arms, away from the familiar perfume that enveloped him in sickly sweetness and turned his stomach.  He ignored the throbbing pain and rising nausea and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, without blinking he held her gaze, his eyes hard with resolve.

H
e guided her down the stairs before turning to look at her for one last time. When he finally spoke, his words were even.  There would be no compromise.

“
You asked me what I would like you to do. I would like you to walk back to the Shearers Cottage.  I would like you to make sure you have everything you will ever take from Twin Pines.  While you are doing that, I will ring for a taxi and arrange for it to take you anywhere you would like to go.”

Tears
overflowed and spilled from her eyes.  They dislodged the thick black mascara that she had carefully applied an hour before and ran it in oily streams down her flushed red cheeks. 

For a few minutes
Paul watched the fragile figure make its way slowly towards the Cottage.  Her arm trailed behind holding the handle of the heavy case.  She had almost reached the front door of Shearers Cottage before Leslie turned around.  Paul wouldn’t let her go.  He would have reconsidered.  He would have followed.