A Mortal Sin (3 page)

“Unfortunately he has. Caroline Bowater.” Paul grimaced.

“Say no more, dear boy, say no more. Leave yourself in the hands of Uncle Ian and I’ll introduce you to the most liberated women in Melbourne.”

* * *

Ian was a great one for parties, and the tempo of Paul’s social life became hectic.

“How are you enjoying Australia, darling?” Kitty, a blonde divorcee drawled.

“Very much.”

Kitty was fun. She liked to think of herself as modern and completely liberated. Her hair was bottle blonde, cut in a short, almost mannish style. She constantly smoked cigarettes through a long tortoise shell holder. She had a sensational figure and knew how to please a man. The owner of a fashionable Collins Street dress shop, she worked if and when she felt like it, as a generous allowance from a rich ex-husband enabled her to live in luxury.

Jean, Ian’s current girlfriend, worked part time as a receptionist in a Melbourne hospital. All the people in Ian’s set were young, high spirited, and intent on having a good time. No war talk. They enjoyed life in the fast lane. Champagne breakfasts on the YarraRiver, dinner at exclusive restaurants, dancing until the wee hours of the morning, and Paul found himself easily fitting in with them. What a life. No responsibility, pretty female companions. A man couldn’t ask for anything more. Could he?

Chapter Two

Daphne Clarke dashed towards the tram stop. If she turned up late one more time, Matron had warned she would be severely dealt with. Dismissal most probably. After all her months of hard, slogging work, it was unthinkable. Why did she promise to get those cottons for Mrs. Dalton in her lunch break or the sweets for old Mrs. Vincent?

Thwump! The impact almost knocked her over. Actually it would have, except two strong male hands caught hold of her shoulders.

“Frightfully sorry, Miss.”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t look where I was going,” Daphne apologized.

Paul found himself mesmerized by a pair of laughing hazel eyes, and a mouth quirking up at the corners with amusement. The girl’s hair, a bright chestnut color, was cut short and fell into waves about her pretty, heart-shaped face.

“Could you release me, I’ll be in trouble if Matron catches me being late again.”

“What’s your name?” Paul asked, refusing to let go.

“I beg your pardon.” She pursed her rosebud lips. “Please, I’ll be late, Matron will be furious.”

“If you tell me your name and where you work, I’ll let you go.”

“You cheeky devil.” She twisted out of his arms and dashed off.

He stood staring after her. What a pretty young woman with her bright floral dress and sunny smile. He wanted to meet her again. She jumped on a bus. He tried to board also, but it lumbered off just as he reached the back of it.

“Damn.” In desperation he flagged down a passing taxi. “Quick, driver, follow that bus.”

“What, mate!”

“The bus, follow it. I’ll double the normal fare.”

They had only travelled a few blocks when he saw his mystery girl alight. “Stop.” The driver slammed on the brakes. By the time Paul thrust a pound note at him and clambered out of the cab, she had disappeared. Now what could he do? Ah, she mentioned the word matron. Was she a nurse?

“Is there a hospital near here?” he asked a passer by.

“Yes. The Queen Victoria is over there.” The man pointed across the road.

“Thanks.” Tomorrow he vowed to find his mystery girl. He would have done it today except he had promised to meet Kitty for lunch.

He strode towards Kitty’s smart little dress shop. “Are you there, darling?” he called out on arrival.

Kitty stuck her blonde head out from behind a curtain. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Got a customer,” she mouthed the last three words.

He lit a cigarette, noticing for the first time that the gowns on display came from Paris. All Kitty’s clients were rich society women who could afford to pay the exorbitant prices she demanded. He waited until the middle-aged customer left, before turning the ‘closed for lunch’ sign out.

“Paul. Darling.” Kitty glided into his arms and turned her painted mouth up for a kiss.

 For some strange, inexplicable reason the strong perfume she always favored seemed rather cloying today, and after a perfunctory peck on the cheek he stepped away.

“What’s the matter, Paul?”

“Nothing.”

“Our table isn’t booked until one. We’ve plenty of time for…” She ran her tongue provocatively across even white teeth. “Other things.”

“I’m not in the mood,” he stated, surprising himself as much as her.

“Darling.” She hooted with laughter. Gliding up to him again, she started unbuttoning his shirt. All the while moving her body against his in the slow, sensuous way that normally excited him. Today he felt nothing but annoyance.

“Look, Kitty, are we going to have lunch or not?”

“My, we are grouchy today. Get up on the wrong side of the bed?” she asked with a chortle. “You should have stayed the night with me.”

“Kitty!”

“All right. She threw her hands up in the air.

It was not a successful meal. He didn’t know why but he found the food tasteless, although they were eating in one of Melbourne’s best restaurants.

“Let’s go down to my holiday house in Frankston for the weekend,” Kitty suggested.

“No thanks.”

“But why?

“I’m sorry but I’ve got commitments in Melbourne.” He ignored Kitty’s pout, and pulled his hand away from hers.

Roses, that’s what his mystery girl smelt of. Her lips, though pink, were unpainted and the peaches and cream complexion needed no cosmetics to enhance its beauty.

* * *

For three days Paul waited unsuccessfully outside the hospital for a glimpse of the pretty girl who intruded on his thoughts during the day and disturbed his sleep at night. He became so obsessed with her he gave her a pet name, ‘Sunshine’, because she seemed so happy and bright. Suddenly she appeared, laughing and chattering to Ian’s girlfriend, Jean. What a stroke of luck. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

As he strode over to them his heart slammed against his rib cage. Excitement swirled around in the pit of his stomach. “Hello, Jean. So we meet again.”

“Hello, Paul. Do you know Daphne?”

“Sort of.” He gave a lazy grin, hoping it would mask his exhilaration. “I nearly bowled her over in the street the other day.”

“You nearly sent me sprawling. How did you find me?”

“I followed you in a taxi, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine!” Daphne started laughing.

“I was desperate to call you something; you wouldn’t give me your name.”

“I suppose I should formally introduce you to each other after a statement like that.” Jean smiled. “Sunshine indeed. Paul Thomas meet Daphne Clarke.”

He felt a twinge of annoyance. For some reason he could not even explain to himself, he wanted to tell Daphne his correct name. There was the matter of his birth too. He didn’t want to have any secrets between them. What would she say if she knew he was illegitimate? Fear clutched as his stomach, like a giant fist opening and closing, pounding against the wall of his gut.

“How do you know Jean?” Daphne asked in a sweet melodious voice that drove all coherent thought from his head.

“Um, through a mutual friend.” Was the best he could come up with, “I…I’m staying with him.” He had never felt this nervous in his life before.

 “Paul belongs to the class known as the idle rich,” Jean said with a grimace. “Doesn’t need to work like us mere mortals.”

He watched with a feeling of dread as the light died in Daphne’s eyes, like a night lamp being switched off.

“Here’s my bus. Goodbye, Paul. See you Monday, Jean.”

He made to follow, but Jean’s hand restrained him. “She’s a good kid, Paul. Do yourself and her a favor. Stick with the Kittys’ of this world. You’d only break her heart.”

Momentarily, Jean’s words shocked him into silence. “What makes you think I’d want to hurt her?” He would gladly lay down his life for Daphne but could hardly say so. He felt vulnerable, afraid of what he was starting to feel, yet terrified of losing her.

“You’re a playboy, out for a good time, no strings attached. If Daphne gives her heart it’s for keeps. Can I give you a lift? I’m going straight to Ian’s.”

“No thanks, I’ve got my car.”

“I’ll see you at Ian’s then.”

Later that evening, Paul unashamedly grilled Jean about Daphne, and the more he heard about this warm, lovely girl, the more determined he became to see her again. She was the type of girl he had always envisaged spending his life with. He would live in a two-roomed shack if he had someone like Daphne to share it with. Because she only worked part time, Jean did not go into work the next day, but he waited impatiently outside the hospital for Daphne. He had to see her again.

She walked out on her own this time, and he watched surprised pleasure give way to wariness.

“I thought I could offer you a lift home.”

“Thank you, I can catch the bus.” She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

“Have I offended you in some way?”

 What lovely clear eyes she had. He remembered them as being hazel, but they were almost green today, probably a reflection of the dress she wore.

“You haven’t offended me, it’s just best if I get the bus.”

“Don’t you like me, is that it?” Picking up her hand he held it firmly as she tried to pull away. “Tell me the truth, Sunshine. Don’t you like me?” He held his breath waiting for her reply.

“I think.” She stared straight into his face. “I might get to like you too much.”

It was his turn to stare now. Her frankness surprised him. He wasn’t used to a woman being so honest. “Let me take you out for dinner.”

“No.”

“Why not? If you like me, and I certainly like you.” Jean must have really damned him. “Did Jean tell you things about me?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Nothing much, except you’re rich and you’re a...”

“I’m a playboy, is that it?” He would change his philandering ways for Daphne, would never look at another woman as long as he lived.

“Yes, I don’t want to be hurt, Paul.”

“What makes you think I’d hurt you?”

“A rich young Englishman betrayed someone very dear to me once. I don’t think she ever got over it, and I don’t want to run the same risk. You lead a different existence from mine; Jean’s told me some of the things you do. A fast life isn’t for me. I don’t like casual affairs. It all seems rather sordid. I’m old fashioned, maybe, but that’s how it is.”

She turned and walked away, a slim little figure in a green cotton skirt and white, lace-trimmed blouse.

“Daphne, please.” He strode after her; he couldn’t let her get away from him. “We could just be friends. I’m new to Melbourne, and you could show me around,” he went on desperately. “Please?”

“I don't think so.” She smiled and the day seemed somehow brighter. “I’m new to Melbourne myself.”

“We could explore together.” Still she hesitated, and he cursed the unknown Englishman under his breath. “Just friends, nothing else.”

“All right.” She agreed with obvious reluctance.

“Where do you live?” With a hand at her elbow he steered her towards a yellow Buick parked in a laneway near the hospital.

“In Brunswick, at a boarding house. It’s cheap and easy for me to get to work.”

“Oh?”

“It’s quite respectable. My parents checked it out, even though it came highly recommended.”

“Do you work night duty?”

“Yes, sometimes. When I do, I sleep in at the hospital.”

“Where do your parents live?” he asked.

“In Wangaratta. My father runs a small accountancy business there.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Two brothers. Tom’s older than me, and Robbie’s sixteen and doing his final year at school. What about you?”

He didn’t answer until she was settled into the car. “I’m an only child.”

“How sad.” She smoothed down her skirt.

“Is it?”

“Oh yes, my parents would have liked more children, only they weren’t lucky enough.”

She directed him to a large, rambling, bungalow of white painted timber. “Well, this is it.”

“Will you come out to dinner with me tonight? I could ring up and book us a table at the Windsor, they know me there.”

He had made a monumental mistake. The moment the words left his mouth he inwardly cursed himself for choosing one of Melbourne’s most exclusive hotels.

“I don’t think so, thanks.”

“Somewhere else. You choose. Please, Daphne, we could eat fish and chips out of a paper bag in the park, if you prefer.”

She laughed, a happy lilting sound that gave him a feeling of well-being.

 “You’re sweet. Did anyone ever tell you that before?”

“No.”

“You are.” He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, but forced himself not to. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“No, but you’ve got lots of girlfriends.”

“Well…”

“Don’t ever lie to me, Paul. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Daphne, there’s something I should tell you.”

“Ooh, look at the time, I’ll have to change. When will you pick me up?”

“About seven.” He bit back the confession hovering on his lips. Later on tonight he would tell her his full name. Would tell her everything and anything she wanted to know about him. This was the girl of his dreams, the one he had waited all his life to meet.

* * *

They sat on a park bench to eat their fish and chips. While he found them barely palatable, Daphne ate with youthful enthusiasm.

“Next to Mum’s cooking, this is my favorite food.” She licked the salty residue from her fingers.

He laughed, flicking a stray tendril of hair away from her face. “Will you come out with me tomorrow? We could go for a picnic. I understand Frankston is quite pleasant.”

“Frankston!” She recoiled as if he had struck her.

“What is it?”

She edged away from him. “I’d like to go home now, please.”