The Quilt Page 15

  “Paul will be back at work tomorrow.”

  Jean moved closer and put her arm around his shoulder. Sean continued cradling the warm sweet tea in his calloused hands.

  “With Paul’s marriage failing I guess the situation has changed for us all. The family will need to seriously look at our options.”

  He held a hand up to stop Jean interrupting.

  “If Leslie had been pregnant, Paul’s priority was to give her and their baby a secure future. But you and I both know he was restless before this happened and was intending to move away on to the university campus earlier this year. I am certainly past carrying the workload of a property of this size and if I had any doubt today has proved it.”

  He smiled and rubbed his forearm.

  “Paul has missed his chance at university this year. They are well underway and it would be impossible to catch up even if he was invited to reapply.”

  “It is certainly a setback. But at least he is not shackled to that woman for life because of one stupid mistake.”

  Sean put his arm around Jean’s shoulder.

  “A lot of time has to pass and a lot of healing has to be done before any of us should make decisions we can’t reverse.”

  Paul fell back into the routine of the country. It was like a familiar slipper, soft and well-worn, at a time when he needed to take stock of his life.

  In had been a month since Leslie had left Twin Pines and Angela stood undecided at the foot of the stairs. It had seemed a good idea to visit Paul, at least, good until she had knocked on the Shearers Cottage door and found it was locked and abandoned. The guilt had been weighing her down and bumping into that old gossip Mrs Seddon had hardened her resolve to speak to Paul. She hoped he would forgive her or at least try to understand.

  She glanced nervously at the main house. Angela had no desire to cross paths with the formidable Jean Clarke. The music from Paul’s guitar and his rich deep voice floated down the stairs. She hesitated and then knocked. He did not seem to hear or perhaps chose to ignore the intrusion. For a moment she felt tempted to stand and listen as the seductive music continued.

  “Paul?” her voice faltered.

  She heard him put down the guitar and a minute later he appeared at the top of the stairs. Was it possible this man could have become even more handsome in the last few months? She smiled but his face was a frozen rock and his eyes had turned into flint slits.

  “What are you doing here Angela?”

  “I would have rung but I thought if I did you would refuse to speak to me.”

  “I really don’t think we have anything to discuss.”

  Her intrusion had not only interrupted the solitude he enjoyed but she had transported him instantly to a time when he argued every night with Leslie.

  Paul’s eyes settled on the obvious swelling that protruded above Angela’s track pants. Guilt washed over him.

  “I’m sorry Angela. I really don’t know why you are here but please come up.”

  He removed the guitar to make room for Angela and she eased herself awkwardly onto the couch.

  “Stairway to Heaven - it’s a great song.”

  “Angela, I really don’t believe you are here to discuss music. Has Leslie put you up to this? Is it another one of her schemes?”

  “No, I haven’t even seen her for months, Paul. I came because I needed to say I am sorry. I not only stuffed up my own life, but I nearly stuffed yours as well.”

  Her hand lay on the bulge that appeared to be resting on her thighs.

  “Paul, I don’t know why I went along with it. I just got caught up in some sort of fantasy and when Leslie asked me for the positive pregnancy test I really didn’t think about the consequences. I have been feeling guilty ever since and then a few weeks ago that wretched Mrs Seddon collared me on the street.”

  Angela shook her head.

  “She started to go on about my out of wedlock pregnancy and you leaving Leslie after she had miscarried.”

  Paul stared in disbelief.

  “Is that the local rumour?”

  Angela smiled.

  “No, not now. I told the old bag there had never been a pregnancy although you were led to believe there was. Of course, Mrs Seddon is as effective as the local newspaper and would have stopped everyone with the time to listen to pass that on.”

  Angela eyes were damp but now glinting with conspiracy.

  “Leslie telephoned me last night. She was furious. It appears the local sympathy as evaporated and she is moving to Wellington to start over.”

  “My mother will be relieved. Thank you. She hates any scandal’s involving her family. Let’s face it there have been enough.”

  “So how are you getting on Paul? Any plans or is it too early?”

  “I’m getting quite comfortable here, but that might not be such a good thing. It would be very easy for me to go through life in this routine and then wake up years later with nothing to look back on.”

  “You will figure it out. At least you have options,” she glanced down.

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Leslie? No, not at all.”

  Angela nodded.

  “If you don’t stay on the farm perhaps you could take up music as a career. What about a performance, perhaps finishing Stairway to Heaven? It is one of the Led Zeppelin classics.”

  Paul felt slightly awkward but picked up his guitar and watched as Angela lent back and closed her eyes. In that moment he was transported back to another time. Leslie curled up like a contented cat, her lips pouting as she watched him through eyes filled with longing. How did their relationship end up costing so many people so much?

  The gentle melody and honeyed voice flowed over Angela. What the hell had they been thinking? That no one would notice? That Leslie would definitely conceive within a week or two?

  She felt her baby move, a soft ripple under her hand. It wouldn’t be long now. How could she have thought she was mature enough to be responsible for another human being?

  They had seemed like fairy book characters, caught up in a naive fantasy.

  She imagined the final pages. She saw a lonely young woman with a crying baby in her arms. She would struggle to cope and be forced to steal each precious moment if she wanted to live any of her own youth.

  There was no doubt that Leslie would have wounds to heal. But in time the pieces of her life would reassemble. She was young and beautiful. She would move to a new town and would soon assemble new friends and a new lover. There would be no little person to keep the scars from healing, to hold her shackled to memories.

  But would it be that easy for Leslie to find another person like Paul to share her life?

  Angela smiled. She opened her eyes and found Paul studying her face. He seemed to be searching for an answer. She allowed the lyrics to wash over her.

  “So are you going to change the road you are on Paul?”

  Angela had stood up and moved towards the door.

  “I have no idea where I am headed at the moment.”

  He put his arms awkwardly around Angela.

  “Thank you for coming over. I know it wouldn’t have been easy. For some reason I feel it has given me closure.”

  She leaned into him feeling his strength and hoping that some would drain through her to help her cope with what lay ahead.

  “If you need anything just ask.”

  Paul’s offer was generous but they both knew it would be uncomfortable for her to ever approach him for help. Reluctantly, she moved away from his strong arms.

  Leslie would never replace this man and that thought gave Angela an immense feeling of satisfaction.

  Sean looked up sharply from behind his newspaper.

  “Jean, calm down.”

  “Half of the women that visit me are bringing their daughters with them. The other half does not have daughters to bring!”

  It wasn’t unusual for the local ladies to gather around cups of tea and scones. They congregated to discuss recipes, bo
oks, grass growth, children and husbands. Twin Pines was a favourite location because of its homely large kitchen, comfortable chairs, huge open fire and Jean’s fluffy lemonade scones.

  Months had passed since Leslie had left the farm. It was considered more than a respectable period of time for such an eligible bachelor to remain single.

  “I no longer have friends that have daughters. I have friends that have daughters that want them to marry my son!”

  She was bristling and Sean struggled to stifle a laugh.

  “We meet for cups of tea and gossip. Why would girls in their twenties want to accompany their aged mothers to join in! Why would they make up their faces and style their hair to sit around with old ladies and eat cake?”

  Sean couldn’t contain himself any longer and his laughter escaped. He ducked behind the paper in an effort to hide his amusement.

  “How can you think this is funny? He is being eyed like a fat lamb at the works.”

  Jean was furious.

  “Don’t take it too seriously. Paul isn’t stupid enough to treat their attention seriously. If he was interested in anyone I am sure he would be more than capable of making it known without the help of meddling mothers.”

  Jean stood with her hands on her hips glaring at the amused face of her husband. He made one more attempt to pacify her.

  “They are well meaning, Jean. It’s harmless and really a compliment when you think about things.”

  Sean glanced up hopefully.

  “I’d better go and let those dogs out again. I don’t think Paul took them all with him today.”

  He retreated to the safety of the kennels.

  Debbie was a pretty young girl with dark wavy hair and liquid brown eyes. Her father was the local GP and the family had lived in the area for most of her twenty three years.

  She worked as a nurse and receptionist in the family’s medical practice. Her older brother had recently graduated as a doctor and joined the business and her mother operated as a physiotherapist at the rear of the building.

  When Paul Clarke entered holding a bloodied towel around a deep gash in his hand she drew an involuntary gasp. His agitated mother fussed along behind while both Paul and his father looked on in amusement.

  “I probably need a couple of stitches.”

  Paul smiled and rolled his eyes towards his mother.

  “Has the bleeding stopped? Can you remove the towel?”

  Debbie held the glacier blue eyes.

  “Probably not without making a mess on your floor.”

  He laughed.

  “It’s deep. He wasn’t even going to come in. He didn’t even think about tendons. Neither of them did.”

  Jean rounded on her husband who was hovering in the doorway.

  Debbie looked at the red soaked towel and then glanced at the children sniffing in the waiting room with wide, horrified eyes.

  “Sorry about this.”

  “Would you like to come through? I’ll take a look at your hand and then call the doctor if it needs stitching.”

  The bleeding had stopped but the gash was long and deep. The open grinning edges were dirty and small fragments of what looked like bark clung to the edges.

  “It will need stitches. You certainly have made a mess of yourself.”

  Debbie looked up and felt her pulse quicken. Embarrassed, she dragged herself away from the depths of those eyes and found herself admiring Paul’s strong square hand and heavily muscled forearm.

  “I’ll get the doctor to come through and see to you. He should only be a few minutes.”

  She excused herself a little too abruptly and returned to reception.

  Sunday evening roast was a family tradition for the Clarkes and not uncommon for many rural families. Jean busied herself marinating the lamb leg in garlic, mint and rosemary. She peeled new potatoes and kumara to roast and cut fresh broccoli, green peas and cauliflower out of her garden. A plump pavlova sat on the bench waiting to be lavished with cream and summer berries.

  Sean had been furious when she had invited Debbie to dinner. He had sat silently in the waiting room listening to the receptionist eagerly accept.

  “It is only dinner, Sean. There was a definite attraction and he needs to move on. He has no social life and is locking himself away on this farm rather than getting out and meeting new people.”

  Sean didn’t respond.

  “That young girl is from a good family, has a good career and, at the least, they can talk over dinner.”

  “You, my darling, are interfering. If Paul wanted company he would seek it out. I don’t think he is as damaged as you and your friends imagine. All he needs is time to find his own road again and the peace to do it.”

  “Debbie from the surgery isn’t it?”

  Paul walked forward with a smile that masked his annoyance. He had taken a minute to stand in the door and gather his composure. Paul looked at the vacant chair and then sat down heavily next to her. He looked across the vast expanse of oak to Sean who hunched uncomfortably, glanced up and then looked down at his hands.

  Silence blanketed the table. Debbie was pretty; slim and classy but Paul felt no attraction. They had spoken briefly when he had made an appointment to have the stitches removed. Even then the conversation had been stilted and Paul had found her slightly boring.

  Jean struggled to break the silence before giving up and falling silent. The tortuous evening finished and Debbie politely excused herself.

  “I know you are only trying to help. But please don’t interfere in my personal life. I do not want to get into another relationship especially at a time when I am evaluating my own damned life.”

  Jean smarted at the unaccustomed harsh words. She turned to Sean for support after Paul had left.

  “Even the local women have given up their matchmaking. I was told he was damaged beyond repair by that Mrs Seddon last week.”

  “He is not damaged but he is wary and reassessing his life. You asked for a disastrous evening and you got it. Now please, Jean, let Paul figure things out for himself and let’s start looking at what we want.”

  Sean took out two small glasses from the china cabinet and walked to the sideboard. He poured a sweet sherry for Jean and filled his own glass up with port.

  “It is a hard time for any parent,” his face was full of concern as he spoke, “children grow up and suddenly you are not needed in their life to provide all the answers. You have to trust in what you have taught them and leave them to find their own way.” He placed his arm around his wife, “you have done a great job with that young man. He may tread water for a few months but he will recover and hopefully be a little wiser for the experience. Now there are a couple of things we need to think about that do not have anything to do with our son or his situation.”

  Chapter 16

  ”Changes”

  Paul sat turning the document over in his hands. His divorce was finalised, his marriage was over and the Decree Absolute he was holding formally confirmed it. Leslie had not contested anything and, therefore, the process had been quick and relatively painless. Would she ever find what she was looking for? Somehow Paul doubted it. Rumours were already circulating that she was engaged and intending to marry a Wairarapa farmer early in the New Year.

  In the same week that Paul had received the Decree Absolute, an envelope was delivered advising the dates for final enrolments at the University. The decision to enter veterinary medicine and specialise in large animals had seemed logical and attractive during the later months of his school years. Now, with a wealth of change, he was no longer sure.

  Sean was also a minor consideration. His father had once relished the long hard days of physical work and the challenge of Twin Pines. Recently, he seemed content to take a back seat, still contributing but equally happy to relax with a newspaper or book.

  Five years of study was a long term commitment especially when, on reflection, his qualification would lead to a career he was not sure he wanted. How would he hav
e coped with fatherhood when he looked back at his immaturity and the decisions he had felt ready to make?

  It was now a matter of repairs, maintenance and the day to day running of the property. The generations that had moulded Twin Pines into the property it was today had had the challenges. Paul was grateful. He knew they had sacrificed their youth, struggling in conditions much harder than he had ever known. But it left him feeling like a tenant living someone else’s dream.

  The traditional Sunday roast was replaced by long summer evenings cooking prime steak and lamb fillets on the barbeque. The Clarkes were often joined by neighbouring families but, regardless of the company, the conversation always revolved around lamb and meat prices, wool prices, the price of fertiliser or the growth of pasture.

  Paul stood listening to the local men. The sun filtered through the oak trees and threw a dappled light on the neat grass. There were three families congregated around the BBQ, cold beers in hands and eyes slit against the glare of the afternoon sun.

  He found himself drifting away from the conversation. He was tired from the days fencing; drained from the strenuous lengths in the family’s swimming pool and sore from the punishing game of rugby he had played the day before.

  “Paul?”

  He looked up sheepishly.

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, young man, I hear you are doing most of the work at Twin Pines now. The old man getting turned out to pasture.”

  The men laughed appreciatively.

  “You might as well retire, Sean. From what I hear, this son of yours has achieved the highest lamb and wool prices again this season. Paul, are you another generation of Clarkes to take over the reins?”

  A burly hand slapped him on the back. He felt suddenly uncomfortable at the direction their beer-fuelled conversation was taking. No one in the Clarke family seemed ready to initiate talk about the future of Twin Pines in private let alone around an informal gathering of this close knit community.