A Mortal Sin (11 page)

“It’s the thought that counts, don’t you think, Paul? You can help us if you like,” Daphne invited.

“No, I’ll watch. Too many cooks spoil the broth as the saying goes.”

When it was ready, Tom dashed outside to pick a yellow rosebud. “The final touch.” He laid it beside the neatly folded napkins with a flourish.

Later, they all drank tea and ate Christmas cake and mince pies in the sitting room. Finally, the time came to open their presents. Daphne had added Paul’s name to her gifts, but she was pleased when he handed out a neatly wrapped parcel to each parent.

“Thank you, Paul.” Smiling, Allison showed the others the tin of imported chocolates, and Frank looked pleased with his bottle of Port. Daphne had bought items of clothing for each parent, handkerchiefs for her brothers. Tom and Rob combined to buy her some pretty, embroidered placemats and doilies.

Paul’s present to her was a gold watch, with diamonds encrusted around the face. Her hand shook as she let him put it on for her. It made the plain gold cuff links she had bought him seem paltry.

“It’s beautiful, but you shouldn’t have spent so much money,” she protested. Even Tom stared in amazement and stopped his teasing banter.

“We’d better have some more tea.” Allison suggested and Daphne followed her mother out into the kitchen to help. “Darling, what an expensive gift for Paul to buy you.”

“I know. He didn’t mean it to be, but it made my cuff links look miserly.”

When they returned to the sitting room, the men were discussing Germany’s Adolf Hitler.

“I reckon there’s going to be a war,” Rob predicted.

“I doubt it, son, those Germans won’t want another licking.”

Daphne sat down next to Paul, who made no comment while her father aired his views.

“We beat them once and they know we can do it again.”

Tom, lounging in an armchair, suddenly stood up. “I might tidy myself up, I’m going out after. If a war does come, I’d join up straight away or it might...”

“End before we get there?” Daphne watched her mother’s face turn deathly white as she recited the words, as if she had learnt them off by heart.

“I was going to say that, Mum.”

“I know you were, Tom. How many other boys said those very words in 1914? And how many of them were killed?”

“If a war came, I’d be a coward not to fight.”

“Tom, be silent,” their father ordered. “You’re upsetting your mother.”

“All right.” Tom subsided into his seat.

“Are you going to church, Mum, I’ll come with you.” Daphne went over to her. “We could go as a family.”

“Yes, dear, I’ll come too.”

Daphne watched in shock as her father stood up. The only time she could ever remember him going to church was when Rob got baptized.

“Best wear a suit, I suppose. Australia won’t be involved in any war, Allison.”

Paul watched Tom open his mouth then close it, without speaking again. He could have told Tom and the others that men like Sir Phillip thought war was a foregone conclusion. That the English government was building air raid shelters and issuing the population with gas masks, but he didn’t.

“I won’t bother with church, sorry about before, Mum. I just didn’t think.”

“It’s all right, Tom, I shouldn’t live in the past.”

“Will you come, Paul?” Daphne asked.

He hesitated. “I don’t think so. You , go with your parents. I can keep your brother company.”

After the others departed for church, Tom opened a bottle of beer and they discussed the cricket.

“I’m off in a while. Hope you don’t mind, mate, but there’s a girl I promised to meet.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry about before, bloody stupid of me. Mum hates the very mention of war, conjures up too many painful memories for her.”

“Terrible thing to have lived through I suppose. My father’s regiment almost got wiped out in France. He hardly ever speaks of it,” Paul mused. “Although, it hasn’t stopped him and his saber rattling friends from urging the English Government to take a stand against Hitler and his Nazis.”

“Yeah well, if you Poms go to war, Australia will, too. Look, mate,” Tom apologized again. “I really have to go. Sorry.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll just wander around the place for a while. Daphne talks about it so often I’d like to get to know it better myself.”

Tom gave a sudden, wicked grin. “Daphne will kill me for this, but there’s a couple of boxes full of old baby photos and things out in the back shed. Sure to be something out there to embarrass her with, mate.”

* * *

After Tom departed Paul wandered down to the orchard for a while, and then he decided to go through the photographs. He loved Daphne so much he wanted to know everything he could about her. Inside the shed he found a couple of old trunks, some dusty baby furniture, and two old boxes tied up with string.

He rummaged through the bottom box first. The photographs here were old, before the turn of the century, most likely. One wedding portrait was probably that of Daphne’s grandparents. Another portrait showed a small girl with golden curls sitting beside an older, dark-haired boy. Mrs. Clarke most likely. More pictures of the two young soldiers whose photo was on the mantle. One of them looked so like Tom he must be related.

Damn it, he must be searching through the wrong box. When he pushed it to one side, it all but disintegrated, causing the photos to spill out.

“Hell.” As he squatted down to gather them up, a battered exercise book caught his eye. Printed across the front were the words Allison’s Diary. He didn’t know why, maybe because he wanted to know more about Tom’s relationship to the young soldier, but he started turning the pages.

Not much in it really, just the inconsequential prattle of a young farm girl, and he skimmed over the pages. In 1914 she apparently met a handsome young Englishman named Phillip. Paul’s hands shook. It was a coincidence, that the names were Allison and Phillip, of course it was. Sick dread washed over him, a feeling of impending doom. His heart slammed against his rib cage. To save his life he couldn’t have stopped himself from reading on now, because he recognized the writing. The letter his father had kept and this diary were written by the same person. His hands shook so much he could hardly turn the pages.

Towards the end of the diary, the entries became scrappy. Allison was obviously too busy socializing with Phillip to have the time to do anything but scrawl a few quick lines.

After a gap of several weeks in the dates, he read the few lines that caused his stomach muscles to clench even more tightly than before. He felt like he was jammed between two crushing lead weights. Nausea rose up into his throat. He doubled over in agony. Horror shook him to the core.

“Phillip Ashfield forced himself on me. I tried to fight him but he wouldn’t stop.”

Bile rose up in his throat. Allison Clarke was his mother. He had been conceived as the result of rape. If that wasn’t terrible enough, it meant Daphne was his sister. He staggered outside and vomited until his stomach was empty. Even then he couldn’t stop retching. He had committed a mortal sin. Incest. Sleeping with his own sister.

He clung to a tree, trying to keep upright. He shivered, yet his hands were clammy. I’ve got to get out of here before they come back. The deadness inside didn’t keep his brain from functioning. He couldn’t bear to face any of them now. The only grain of comfort he could cling to was the fact he’d taken precautions to ensure Daphne would not get pregnant. What if a child had resulted? The thought caused him to retch again.

He stumbled into the house and stuffed his belongings in his case. Feeling absolutely devastated, he forced himself to pen a brief, cruel note to Daphne so she would not attempt to follow him. The words were horrible. He hadn’t realized he was capable of thinking, let alone writing such revolting stuff. When he finished, he threw the pen down in disgust and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Does Frank know about me? With trembling hands, he slid the note into an envelope and scrawled her name across it? And all the while his stomach churned, his brain felt like it was ready to burst out of his head. Was Frank even Daphne’s real father? The old man at the store mentioned that Allison had a girl baby. Where the hell did Tom fit into the picture? The others certainly wouldn’t know about Allison’s past. It was one of those deep, dark family secrets that would never see the light of day. Could Sir Phillip have impregnated Allison a second time? Oh God, surely not? This would have to be the worst day in his whole life. Shock built upon shock. If he were not so desperate to get away, he would be on the ground in a screaming heap.

He left the Clarke residence immediately, and once on the highway, he planted his foot and sped away without a backward glance.

* * *

Daphne arrived home and was surprised to find the car gone.

“I wonder where Paul is?” she queried.

“Probably dropping Tom off somewhere. Church wasn’t so bad now Frank. Was it?” Allison teased.

“I suppose not.”

“You enjoyed it, Dad, I heard you singing,” Daphne said.

“All right, I did,” Frank grudgingly admitted. “I hope the plum pudding hasn’t boiled dry.”

“It won’t have, but I’ll check it, and the roast. Thanks for coming to church with me, Frank. Oh look. Someone has been in the shed and forgotten to close the door.”

“I’ll close it later, dear. Tom probably took Paul in there to rummage through Daphne’s baby photos.”

Daphne tripped along ahead of parents. In her bedroom, she took off her hat and gloves and rested them on the dressing table with her bag. I’ll put them away later. Paul will be back soon. She sat on the bed and glanced once more at the watch. It was the most exquisite thing she’d ever owned.

“Daphne.” Her mother entered the room. “There’s a letter here for you.”

The thick ivory colored envelope had her name printed across the front. It was from Paul. Fortunately, she was sitting, otherwise she would have fallen to the floor. It only contained a few lines, cruel in their brevity.

Daphne, I have taken the coward’s way out and left while you were away. It wouldn’t work between us. You and your family are too working class for me. Keep the things I gave you by way of payment. You earned them. Paul.

Daphne couldn’t cry. The hurt and betrayal went too deep. But her body began rocking back and forth with grief. She clutched her hands tightly over her heart, because it had shattered into a thousand pieces and she didn’t want to lose any of the fragments.

“Darling! Daphne, what’s wrong?” Her mother rushed to her side. “What is it?”

The letter fluttered to the floor, and Allison picked it up. Never had she read anything so cruel or contemptible.

“What can I say, darling?”

Daphne didn’t answer, she was incapable of doing anything except let her mother help her into bed. Mid summer, yet she felt cold as death. She wanted to cry and scream. Nothing would come out past the lump of despair clogging her throat. A little part of her died. She would never recover from Paul’s cruel betrayal. Had he set out to deliberately seduce her? Bribing her with expensive gifts? An engagement ring? Or had he grown tired of her? Resented her working class background? She couldn’t decide which scenario was the worst.

“Don’t show Dad or the boys the letter, will you?” Her voice was so husky and tremulous she hardly recognized it. “Tell them Paul left. I couldn’t bear it if they knew what I’d done.”

“It’s all right, darling. Frank! Frank!”

“What is it, Allison? God. What’s wrong? Daphne, are you all right?” he asked frantically.

“Get some water, quick. Paul up and left, thinks we’re not good enough for him,” Allison explained.

When he got back, Daphne sat propped up against the pillow with her mother holding her hand.

“Here’s the water, I put something in it to help you sleep, Princess.” His childhood endearment brought tears to her eyes. “He wasn’t good enough for you. No man is.”

“Frank, keep an eye on lunch, will you. There’s something Daphne and I need to discuss.”

When he left, Allison made Daphne drink the water, and then she clasped the ice cold hands between her own. “There are no words of comfort I can offer, except time will heal and you’ll meet someone else.”

“Paul is the only man I’ll ever love. I’ll never forget him.”

“The hurt gets easier to bear after a time. I, that is, I mean…” Allison swallowed several times. “I read the letter. There wouldn’t be, what I mean. Is there a chance you might get pregnant?” The last few words came out in a rush.

“No, Paul, he, he made sure nothing like that would happen. I loved him, Mum. We were going to get married.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“That’s the trouble with rich young men. They all promise marriage to get what they want from a girl. If your father ever comes across Paul Thomas he’ll…”

“Paul Thomas Ashfield, that’s his real name.”

“No! No!” Her mother screamed.

The anguished cry cut through Daphne’s misery. Not a vestige of warmth remained in her mother’s face. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of her. Her eyes, wide with shock, were glazed with horror. Her whole body trembled as she moaned in anguish. In those few seconds Daphne watched her mother age twenty years.

“Mum, what is it?” They clung to each other.

“The Diary. That wretched diary of mine. Paul must have read it.” She shifted out of Daphne’s arms and staggered to her feet and stood swaying, clenching and unclenching her hands. “Paul Ashfield is…”

Frank dashed into the room and caught Allison in his arms as she started to sink to the ground. He patted her back as she sobbed into his chest. “Paul must have found my diary. Tell her Frank, the whole story, about what Phillip did.”

“I don’t know any gentle way to tell you this, Princess, but Phillip Ashfield got your mother, I mean Allison, pregnant with Paul, and then he went off and married someone else.”

Daphne sat bolt upright in bed, her mind working at a frantic pace. If Paul had read the diary, and seen his father’s name, he would have believed she was his sister. She’d never told him her own history fully. No wonder he had dashed off. She glanced at the beloved pair who had raised her as their own. When Allison turned to face her, tears streamed down her cheeks.