‘Thank you, Monsieur l’Abbé.’ She
spoke with downcast eyes, and waited until she heard the front door close
behind him before she heaved a sigh of relief and went up to her attic bedroom
where she lit her candle and closed her door. It was cold in the room and she
undressed quickly, putting on her nightgown and wrapping her blanket round her
as she sat up in bed to read a news sheet she had picked up off the street on
her way to the market. Sometime later she heard the front door bang and after a
moment Father Thomas’s heavy tread as he made his way upstairs. To her dismay
he did not stop on the first floor where he had taken over Father Lenoir’s
bedroom, but continued up the steep stairs that led to the attics. Hurriedly
Annette blew out her candle, and turning her back to the door curled up in her
blanket as if already asleep. She waited with bated breath as she heard the
footsteps stop outside her door. There was a long pause and then she heard the
handle turn and the door creak open. With thumping heart she tried to keep her
breathing even, as if she were sleeping and had no idea that he was standing in
the doorway. For a long moment he stood, and then turning on his heel he closed
the door and went back down the stairs.
Annette found she was shaking, and
drew deep breaths to calm herself, but believing she had been reprieved, her
heartrate slackened and she closed her eyes and prepared to fall asleep.
It was as she dozed off that she
heard the footsteps on the stairs again and this time they did not pause in the
doorway, but with a lamp in his hand Father Thomas marched across the room and
stripped back the covers. For a moment he stared down at her, his eyes
lascivious as he saw the fear in hers. Without a word he set the lamp on the
floor and reached for her nightgown. Instinctively she curled up, clinging to
the nightdress, trying to retrieve the blanket, but he slapped her hard across
the cheek. As he did so, the gown he was wearing fell open and Annette could
see that he wore nothing beneath it. Annette cried out and was rewarded with a
further slap before he flopped down on top of her and began to squirm across
her body, grunting as he did so. Annette tried to push him off, but he was too
heavy.
‘Lie still, bitch,’ he growled.
‘You’ve had this coming for a long time!’ But Annette did not lie still, she
fought him every inch of the way. Her resistance seem to inflame him more and
he held her down as he forced himself inside her. His attack seemed to go on
for ever, but when at last he had finished, he rolled off her and wiping himself
on her sheet sat up on the edge of the bed, looking down at her.
‘You are the product of sin,’ he
said. ‘You should never have been born. God blesses no child that’s born
through sin.’ When Annette simply stared up at him, hatred in her eyes, he went
on, ‘You are a child of the devil, sent to tempt good Christian men like me.
You are a snare, sent to lure men away from the paths of righteousness. You
deserve the treatment you receive and I am the instrument of God’s punishment.’
He got slowly to his feet and picking up the lamp again raised it high so that
he could see her face clearly.
‘Understand this, spawn of the devil:
if you ever speak of what goes on between us, you will burn in the fires of
hell for all eternity.’ With that he retrieved the robe he’d discarded and
turned to the door. As he reached it he turned once more and whispered, ‘The
fires of hell.’
Comments
Post a Comment