The Quilt Page 2

  Paul pulled a clean tee shirt over his head. He seemed distant and the soft-faced youth gave up on making conversation and drifted back to the remainder of the team.

  There was no point in pretending this failing relationship could be sustained after graduation. It certainly had no chance of surviving when he moved away from the King Country to study. He threw his damp clothes into a soft bag and walked out of the changing room into the warm spring sunshine.

  Leslie had been sitting in the grandstand surrounded by a large group of girls. Their faces looked flushed with anticipation. As if controlled remotely they turned to face Paul when he approached.

  Leslie looked up and even from a distance he could see her eyes were slightly red although her mascara and eyeliner outlined her perfect blue eyes without a single smudge. Angela sat with her arm draped over Leslie’s shoulders protectively. Paul silenced the group with an impatient hand gesture.

  “I am not sure what could have been so important that I had to walk out on my team. But whatever it is will have to wait until I have spoken to you, in private.”

  He looked pointedly at the eager faces but no one had made an effort to move.

  “These are my friends and...”

  Leslie trailed off with a dramatic sob. Angela held his eyes long enough to mouth a silent curse in his direction.

  “Have it your own way.”

  Paul struggled to keep his voice even and disguise the anger he felt lurking just under the surface.

  “I have applied to Massey University and will be leaving the King Country early next year.”

  The atmosphere instantly charged. Leslie’s eyes locked on to Paul and her lips drew into a tense, narrow red line. A nervous giggle escaped from a girl seated behind.

  “Piss off! The whole lot of you, just piss off!”

  Leslie rounded on the unfortunate girl in the back row.

  “Get out!”

  Her voice had risen to a shriek. Without daring to look back the startled group melted away across the trampled playing field. Only Angela remained at Leslie’s side mouthing her silent curses at Paul’s impassive face.

  “So when the hell did you intend to tell me you were going away?”

  “There was no point in telling anyone until my application was accepted.”

  Leslie made no effort to comment.

  “You know I don’t want to spend my life on Twin Pines and you must know we have been moving in different directions for months. Perhaps a break would do us good.”

  Angela mouthed the word ‘bastard’ at him.

  It was obvious that people with different dreams and expectations would ultimately destroy each other. Could neither of these conceited women see that?

  The small, immaculately manicured hand snaked across his arm dragging long nails across his skin and leaving angry red lines in its path. Paul grabbed the delicate wrist and steadily met the baby blue eyes that had hardened to a cruel icy glare.

  “Like hell you are leaving Twin Pines and like hell are you leaving me!” Leslie’s face twisted into a humourless smile.

  “I am pregnant Paul. You are going to be a father.”

  Two weeks later, Paul sat hunched under the threat of teenage fatherhood. In front of him Angela bristled angrily.

  “How could you do that to her? Right before final exams?”

  “What? Get her pregnant? Not get her pregnant? I don’t know what the hell is going on!”

  “She isn’t pregnant, Paul.”

  “So, she lost the baby or she wasn’t pregnant in the first place?”

  Angela shook her head slowly but ignored his question.

  “It really doesn’t matter. She is devastated and you should be supporting her. She wasn’t even able to come to school today and if she fails her final exams because of the situation you placed her in it will be your responsibility.”

  “If she fails her final exams it will be because of her passion for shopping rather than study.”

  Paul ran an agitated hand through his hair. For a brief moment Angela allowed herself to be distracted by the rugged good looks of the man in front of her.

  “Did you tell your parents?”

  “No, I was waiting until Leslie had confirmed the pregnancy with a doctor.”

  At least they had been spared the anguish of thinking their first grandchild would be born while he was still a teenager.

  Paul’s parents, Jean and Sean Clarke had lived their entire lives in the King Country. They were content and well-established here and they had always assumed their only son would follow the farming tradition and ultimately manage the family’s five thousand acre, central High Country property. Despite this being the logical and financially secure choice, Paul felt trapped in the life style, smothered by the small community and was motivated to find his own path in life.

  There was no question Paul loved Twin Pines, its rolling green pastures, the steep rocky gullies and bush clad distant hills. But to grow he needed to break free from the claustrophobia he felt in small town rural New Zealand.

  “I can’t imagine you ever leaving the farm. The baby would have been the fifth generation of Clarkes to live on Twin Pines.”

  “Angela, there was no baby and if there had been I really don’t think either Leslie or I would have been in a position to give it the life a child deserves.”

  He sighed before continuing.

  “I know you are concerned about Leslie. I will give her a call tomorrow and arrange to help with her revision leading up to the exams. I haven’t been able to concentrate myself recently and without hard work I am not confident my application will be favourable.”

  He reached over and squeezed Angela’s arm. “There is no point in worrying about the future when none of us know what the next few months will bring.”

  “So you will stay in the King Country after graduation and work things out with Leslie?”

  “That’s not what I said. I want to concentrate on the final exams before I make any firm decision about the future.”

  He watched Angela chew thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

  “Don’t ask me to commit. I really haven’t got the answers.”

  Paul had woken the next morning to the sound of raised voices in the entry. His mother’s words carried clearly through the closed doors and she made little effort to mask her annoyance.

  “Can’t you just leave him alone? Leslie, he needs to study in peace. A higher education might not be important to you but it most certainly is to Paul.”

  Leslie’s words were muffled but they seemed to infuriate Jean Clarke further.

  “Get out of my house now!”

  He emerged to find his mother blocking the doorway. Leslie stood outside, her face pinched into an angry scowl. Both women briefly dropped eye contact as Paul entered.

  “Tell her to leave, Paul. She has no business coming here.”

  “Get this old cow to move.”

  “Stop it both of you!”

  Paul pushed past his mother and firmly took Leslie by the arm. Without speaking he had guided her to the shearing shed and settled on to a low rail.

  He had known the sensible thing would be to end the relationship. Put aside the short term consequences. Beside him Leslie sniffed miserably.

  “You can’t leave Twin Pines.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. Paul looked at her trembling lip and wondered how he could feel so dead inside. He focused on the long gravel driveway that snaked its way towards the highway. Another tear escaped and lazily slid down her cheek.

  “I’m going to quit school. I can’t face my friends.”

  “What would you achieve by leaving before the final exams? Your friends will understand how worried you were that you might have been pregnant.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  Paul had pushed the small warning voice aside. I am reconsidering the timing of my decision to walk away. Not the decision itself.

  “This isn’t the time to think too far ahead. I
t is important to graduate before worrying about what opportunities we will take. I will help you catch up with your studies.”

  The small warning voice sounded louder.

  Paul never got the chance to celebrate with his team. They lost the finals after playing their worst game of the season.

  Paul was snapped back to the present by Leslie’s finger as it continued to prod at the small plastic test kit. He had been staring with unseeing eyes at the vast expanse of gently folding farmland and the shadows that were cast by the slowly sinking sun.

  “Paul, if you don’t want to face your responsibilities then you had better speak up now.”

  Her voice was more confident when she spoke this time but her eyes had filled with moisture and threatened to send a cascade of mascara down her porcelain-coloured cheeks.

  “You know I would never walk out on any responsibility.”

  Leslie edged closer and rested her head on Paul’s shoulder. He felt the dampness of tears saturating the thin material of his shirt but made no effort to comfort her.

  “What will you do about your University application?”

  “Obviously, that is no longer an option.”

  Leslie’s tears instantly vanished and, despite the previous flood of moisture running down her face, her makeup had somehow remained almost flawless. How was that possible? Paul frowned disagreeably at the mass of bleached blonde hair that fell in ribbons over his forearm. Shit, I am not ready to be a father and Leslie is not only too selfish and immature but possibly will never be capable of being a good mother.

  He pushed her off his shoulder and, without looking back, strode away from the mirrored surface of the pond. A few minutes later the sound of a farm bike broke the silence and an arc of light swung haphazardly across the water before illuminating the farm raceway and disappearing into the darkness.

  “If she is good enough to sleep with then she is good enough to marry,” Sean Clarke roared at his son.

  He shook his head miserably. History had a way of repeating itself. Why couldn’t we learn from those that went before? Why did we have to walk the same path and have to experience the same heartbreak to learn the same damned lessons!

  “How could you be so bloody stupid? What were you thinking?”

  Paul sat silently and listened to the torrent of words he had known would come. There really was nothing to say, no defence, he had stuffed up, he had been caught out and now he had to face the consequences.

  Jean Clarke sat uncomfortably at the sturdy oak table. There had been arguments around it before but nothing like this. Her insides churned. How could she accept that Leslie would soon be Leslie Clarke? The girl had no substance, no ambition, she was manipulative and spoilt.

  “Have you considered the other options?”

  Sean’s unexpected question startled Paul and for a brief moment silence sat in the air between them.

  “What do you mean options? There are no other options.”

  He looked at both Jean and Sean, surprised at the implication.

  “This is, I mean, this will be your grandchild.”

  Sean continued.

  “What about supporting Leslie and the child emotionally and financially rather than rushing in and actually getting married? You could continue your education and look at a more permanent arrangement when you are both sure.”

  Paul looked up and met his father’s steady gaze.

  “Leslie would not be emotionally able to cope if I was absent.”

  He managed an unconvincing smile.

  “We are both sure.”

  There was nothing else to discuss. He had no alternative. Paul got up and left the room.

  Jean glanced nervously at Sean. He sat moodily staring at his hands, his face was set in an angry frown.

  “She trapped him, this was intentional!”

  He held up his hand to stop the conversation.

  “Not now. We both know the little vixen has set Paul up to stop him leaving the King Country and going to University. There is no point in discussing it further. Paul made an adult decision when he continued to sleep with her. He now has to make an adult decision and he has to live with it. The only thing we can do is support them both and hope he finds some happiness with the hand he has been dealt.”

  “This one is the ivory and these are the different options we have for invitations.”

  Paul looked miserably at the mass of samples that lay scattered in front of him.

  “Leslie, this is your day. I have told you I really don’t care what you choose. I would be more than happy with a small, simple service on the edge of one of the ponds.”

  Leslie sniffed plaintively.

  “You could at least show some interest in your own wedding.”

  “We are in the middle of lambing. We are also trying to organize a decent place for you and the baby to live.”

  “Paul, it is our baby. I should be your highest priority especially in my condition.”

  Leslie ran her long fingers suggestively over the gentle rise of her stomach. Paul ignored her and continued to stare at the mass of fabric, magazine pictures and brochures piled high on the table.

  “The farm provides the means for me to support you and our baby. At this time of the year it requires long hours of work to ensure a high lambing percentage. The Shearers Cottage has deteriorated because it has not been lived in for years and you know we are trying to make it as comfortable as possible.”

  Leslie sat up stiffly.

  “I have told you the cottage is far too small for us.”

  Paul sighed and rubbed his gritty eyes with the back of his hands. Couldn’t she be grateful for what he was giving her?

  “It is all I can provide at least in the short term.”

  He pushed the chair back and stood up before speaking.

  “If you need help with organizing the wedding, Jean has offered her time and I am sure both Angela and your parents would be happy to be involved.”

  Paul turned away and walked out before he could be drawn into another argument.

  The heat was oppressive. Paul stood uncomfortably in the tiny local church pulling at his tie self-consciously. His unruly hair had been cut to reluctant submission, his normally mud-covered boots replaced by polished formal shoes, his normal singlet replaced by a formal white shirt and he was choking under a soft blue tie. He looked incredibly handsome but far from relaxed in his expensive, well-cut suit. His eyes were as hard as flint and his mouth was set in a tense grim line.

  The church was packed with eager locals crammed into the pews. Any event was exciting in a small community. It was an opportunity to break routines, dress up, and catch up with neighbours who in an area comprising huge blocks of land were often separated by miles.

  This particular wedding was made even more exciting because it involved one of the districts most eligible bachelors. Jean and Sean Clarke’s son would be settling down in the King Country as had the generations before him.

  Jean was considered a pillar of the community. She helped out with the old folk delivering meals and baked cakes to fundraise for the local school. She often organized the kitchens to feed the transient shearing gangs that moved from property to property when high country farms required additional help with their huge flocks of sheep.

  Today she sat silently on the uncomfortable wooden seat letting the hum of conversation flow over her. Her expression was stony. Her eyes were focused on the ornate stained glass window above Paul’s head.

  Music stilled the chatter and the silence of anticipation fell over the small church. Paul swallowed hard. What the hell am I doing here? A strong feeling of impending doom weighed down on his shoulders, so strong that it had set his hands into a steady and unfamiliar shake. The music started again and Leslie, stunning and faultless in a fitting white gown adorned with lace, made her way slowly down the long aisle. Paul glanced at the gorgeous blonde face and fought to return her smile. This was her moment but all he could feel was empty. He locked
his hands firmly together in an effort to quiet his nerves.

  The service droned on and Paul felt his concentration wandering. He imagined himself as a spectator, emotionally removed from the occasion. His hands instantly steadied. He ran his eyes down the line of bridesmaids. They stood, serenely clutching extravagant cascades of pink and white flowers that appeared to blend into the vulgar coral of their flowing gowns. Who chose that colour? Perhaps he should have paid more attention to the details. It drained the life out of the bland faces of the girls. Angela met and held Pauls eyes, she studied his face and her eyes narrowed. “Pay attention. Don’t you dare stuff things up.” He looked back “fuck off Angela.”

  His gaze travelled to Jean and Sean Clarke. They sat stiffly in the front row. His mother focused on a point somewhere above his head. Her face looked drawn and tired. His father met his eyes briefly before looking down at his calloused, sun-browned hands. Two months ago they had looked younger as they watched Paul receive his graduation with honours certificate. That same day he had written to decline the offer of a place in the Veterinary course.

  The monotone stopped and the old man standing in front of him made an exaggerated noise to clear his throat.

  “Will you repeat after me?”

  Paul locked his hands together firmly. He focused on a point above Leslie’s baby blue eyes and mumbled his vows without feeling any emotion at all.

  “Well?”

  Leslie sat on the edge of a large, soft bed in the Shearers Cottage. She had struggled out of the endless folds of her wedding gown cursing at the tight confines of the corset-like restraint that had bound her waist. Damn uncomfortable dress had left a deep impression on her skin. She positioned herself to the best advantage. She moistened her lips, stretched her long legs in front of her and slightly tilted her head. What the hell was he looking at?

  “What do you mean by well?”

  Paul rubbed at his eyes. The wedding had been an ordeal and he had only just managed to maintain composure throughout the day. It had left him drained. Surely she realized their marriage was not one of choice?