A Mortal Sin (18 page)

“I love Paul to distraction, but I’d like to help out at one of the hospitals, and he refuses point blank to allow me to work. I’m not used to being idle. I’ve always held a job.”

“After a while he might relent. Give him time. Major Ashfield is rather possessive when it comes to his new wife, doesn’t want to share her around.”

“I know, and I love him for it. It’s, well, oh I don’t know, then there’s, Robbie.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes, I’m worried about him.”

“He’ll be fine; a strapping young chap like that can take care of himself.”

“He’s only nineteen. He’s changed. I know the climate can get you down, but he’s, well sort of fatalistic or something.”

“My, you have got the blues. Not pregnant are you?”

“I don’t think so. We’ve only been married a few weeks.”

“I fell in on my wedding night. So let me tell you, if anyone says you can’t get pregnant the first time, they’re talking through their hats.”

“I thought your boys were only twelve, what I mean is…”

“I miscarried my first baby at seven months, took me years to get pregnant again.”

Daphne liked Valda’s frankness. She was not two-faced. If there was something about you she disapproved of, she said so.

Chapter Twelve

On the night of the 7th December 1941, the Japanese bombed Singapore. The whole place had been lit up like a Christmas tree and the military were furious about it. The American fleet had also suffered a horrendous attack by over three hundred Japanese aircraft at Pearl Harbor.

On the 8th December, America’s President Roosevelt declared war on Japan and ‘Z’ force sailed out of Singapore.

Daphne caught a taxi down to the wharf, where she lined up with dozens of others to watch the convoy leave. What an awe-inspiring sight watching the Repulse and the Prince of Wales with their four destroyer escorts putting out to sea.

A few days later, like the rest of Singapore she was shocked when she heard that both the Repulse and the Prince of Wales had been sunk.

This was the catalyst for her to act without consulting Paul. She couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing. She rang Helen at the 113th Australian General hospital.

“Helen, its Daphne, would there be any work for me at the hospital? I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing productive.

“Good to hear your voice, Daph. I’ve already spoke to Matron about you, once I heard about the Prince of Wales and the Repulse, I knew you’d want to help out, no matter what Paul says. You’re welcome to come any time you like, the sooner the better.”

Paul was furious when he came home and she told him what she had done. They had the first real argument of their marriage. “I will not have my wife working,” he stated emphatically.

“I have to do my part for the war effort. They need help and I’m going to give it to them.”

“I forbid you, absolutely forbid it. Do you hear?”

“I don’t care. I’m not in the army, you can’t give me orders. I’ve already promised to start tomorrow, Helen arranged it with Matron.”

Backwards and forwards they raged at each other.

“For God’s sake, do you have to be so working class all the time?”

“Better than being a bloody snob like you.”

He raised his hand then dropped it again. Without another word he turned on his heel and stalked out the door, banging it so hard the whole house shook.

When he didn’t return by eleven o’clock, she decided to go to bed. If he wanted to throw a tantrum like some spoilt brat, she wasn’t going to wait up for him. She woke up some time later when the door banged, followed by an angry oath from Paul. Burying her face in the pillow she pretended to be asleep.

He switched the bedside lamp on and she heard him fumbling with his clothes. “You awake?” He slurred as he slid into bed.

Ignoring him, she kept her back turned. He pushed down the straps on her nightie and cupped her breast. She lay there, trying not to respond to his kneading fingers or his lips nibbling at the nape of her neck.

“You’re not asleep, so stop pretending.”

“You’ve been drinking.” She used the only weapon she had against him. Anger.

“A little.” He tugged impatiently at her nightgown.

“Leave me alone. I don’t like being mauled by a drunk.”

His hands on her thighs were rough with impatience. Only when her clenched fist caught him in the face did his angry exploration stop.

“Bitch,” he snarled. “Bloody well sleep on your own.” He wrenched the sheet off the bed and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Daphne left Paul sleeping off his drunkenness and Sam drove her to the hospital. Helen’s pronouncement that she looked like death was not a revelation. Her own mirror had attested to this. She was shocked to find his impatient fingers had left faint bruises on her breasts and thighs. These were nothing compared to the hurt he’d inflicted on her heart. What would have happened if she hadn’t hit him? She died a little every time she thought about it.

They sent her to help the quartermaster. Some of her duties were to record and care for personal gear owned by the patients. She would have preferred general nursing duties, but this at least was something. The identification tags soldiers wore around their necks at all times were called their ‘Dead Meat Ticket’. It was such a revolting, if apt name, that it gave her the shudders.

A lieutenant colonel was the Commanding Officer, while captains controlled X-ray, Pathology and similar sections. Captain Bill Foster was the QM, a wiry, grey haired man who had fought in the Great War and she liked him straight away.

“There’s always a chain of command before they get to us.” He stood poker-faced and recited. “The Army Medical Corps line of evacuation starts with the troops in the field, Regimental Aid Post, Field Ambulance units, Main Dressing Station, Advanced Dressing Station, Casualty Clearing Station.”

Daphne burst out laughing. “You sound like a school teacher reciting something off the blackboard. He grinned and she knew she was accepted. The other staff members were all friendly, too. As long as she didn’t think of Paul and his behavior last night, she felt happy being back in a medical environment.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Helen asked as they sat in the Officers’ Mess eating a salad lunch.

“Yes. Well, no, I’m not really. Paul and I had a frightful row yesterday, about my coming here.”

“He still doesn’t want you working.”

“No.”

“He’s bloody selfish. You need something to do and God knows we need the help. Heard from Rob lately?”

“A letter last week, he’s hoping to get leave for Christmas.”

“I know. Your little brother has been writing to me.”

“Has he?”

“Yes, he’s a good kid. I’m fond of him.”

At four o’clock, Bill told her to go home, but dreading the prospect of facing Paul and another row she dawdled around for a time. Would she go straight to the bungalow? Maybe go to the theatre, or wander through the department stores in Raffles Place? Helen would not be off until six, so she could hardly hang around the hospital until then.

* * *

Paul waited with mounting impatience near the main entrance of the hospital for Daphne. Four o’clock she was supposed to finish. He glanced at his watch once more, nearly five. Then he saw her, a slight figure in a grey nurse’s dress, trailing forlornly out of the hospital.

She seemed to be dragging her feet. No wonder, he thought bitterly. Why would she want to hurry home after what happened last night?

“Daphne.” He stepped up to her and something died in him when she cringed away.

“I thought I’d pick you up.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered.” Her voice was flat, dead-sounding, her eyes wounded, like those of a trapped animal.

“I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t you?”

“Let’s go for a drink somewhere. We could eat out too.”

“Yes.” She accepted so readily he felt shattered. Anything to keep from being alone with me, he thought feeling sick to his stomach.

“Raffles, driver.”

 They didn’t speak until the car pulled up outside the imposing white building. The driver opened the door for Paul, who got out and turned to help Daphne, but she clambered out by herself.

He didn’t touch her, in case she rebuffed him, so they walked side by side with a foot or more separating them. Daphne ordered a long cool fruit drink, Paul his usual stengah.

“Will we order our meal now?” he finally asked once they were seated at the table.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll chose something for both of us, shall I?”

She sat there, twisting the only jewelry she wore, his plain gold wedding band.

“Did you enjoy your day at the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about last night, honestly. I acted like a bastard. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know.”

He groaned. “Please, I’m sorry. If I could undo the hurt I would, I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Buy me some new clothes?”

“If you like, jewelry, anything.”

“I don’t want your money. I never did. Your love is all I want.”

“You’ve got it, you know you have. I swear there wasn’t another woman last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she interrupted him.

“We have to.”

“Why? Frightened I might withhold my sexual favors.”

He spluttered into his drink.

“Don’t worry. I’m your wife. If I don’t give you your marital rights, you can take them.”

“Like I tried to do last night,” he said bitterly. “You’re hurt and upset and you have every right to be, but I love you. You can’t stop loving me because of one stupid thing I did. I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear it. You made me angry when you fought me and I lost my temper. You certainly pack a wallop.” He rubbed his cheek.

Daphne nodded her thanks as a waiter brought over a menu. She wouldn’t care if she never ate again.

“Listen to me.” Paul reached across the table and clasped one of her hands between his own. “This voluntary evacuation isn’t working. Ships coming in with supplies and reinforcements are sailing off half empty because people won’t leave. There will be compulsory evacuation for European women soon. You’d have to go, and we mightn’t see each other for years.”

“I’m a nurse.”

“It won’t matter. You don’t imagine the British Government would allow any of our women to be left here if the Japs come.”

“What about you?”

“I’m an army officer. I’ll be staying.”

Fear that something might happen to him overrode everything else. “I wouldn’t leave, not unless you did.”

“You’re too good for me, Sunshine, far too good.” He traced the line of her lips with his finger.

“Would you care to dance?”

“No, I want to go home.”

“We haven’t ordered our meal yet.”

“I’m not hungry. I ate a big lunch at the hospital.”

When they arrived back at the bungalow they shared a jug of iced tea and a plate of sandwiches. They sat in the sitting room for a time without speaking. Paul smoked one cigarette after the other.

“I might go to bed, I have to be at the hospital before eight.”

“I’ll drop you off on my way to work.” He stood up when she did, but made no attempt to follow. “Daphne.”

“Yes.” She swung around to face him.

“Would you…” He swallowed a couple of times. “Would you prefer me to sleep in the spare room again?”

“Not unless you want to.”

He watched her leave the room. Going over to the liquor cabinet he poured himself a whisky, which he gulped down. About to refill his glass, he thought better of it, and put it back on the tray. He heard the bath water running and waited for the sounds of water gurgling down the plughole. After another few minutes elapsed he went into the bedroom, shrugged out of his uniform and put on a dressing gown. The door to the bathroom was ajar, so he pushed it open. A horrified breath caught in his throat.

Daphne stood there naked. She grabbed for the towel, but wasn’t quick enough to hide the purple imprints of his fingers, flawing the smooth white skin of her breasts and thighs.

“My God, Daphne. I loathe myself.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

It did. Deep down he knew it did.

She was already in bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin when he came in from the bathroom. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted me to sleep in the spare room forever.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him wearily. “Do what you like. You always do anyway.”

He slid in beside her and lay quietly instead of reaching for her as he normally did.

“Would you like to go home for Christmas?” he asked when the silence between them stretched unbearably.

“Home?”

“Yes, to Wangaratta, I could arrange it.”

“Would you come too?”

“No.”

“Robbie?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll stay here.” She touched his arm. “I thought you were going to force yourself on me last night. That’s why I hit you.”

He felt her shudder.

“But I still love you,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“You’re too good for me, Sunshine. I don’t think I would have, well even if you hadn’t slapped me, but I loathe myself because I’ll never be a hundred percent certain.”

* * *

Christmas came and went. They put on a small dinner party for Valda and Joe Beaumont, Helen and Rob. They served a traditional Christmas meal. Roast turkey with vegetables, and, even though the weather was so hot, plum pudding in a flaming brandy sauce, just like at home.

They sang Christmas carols together without musical accompaniment, thought of loved ones at home, but enjoyed themselves, just the same. Even though Kuala Lumpur aerodrome had been bombed three days previously, it did not dampen their spirits. Rob had three days leave, which he spent with them, swimming and playing golf and tennis.

* * *