by Sarah Rayne
Maud drank her coffee, wishing it was not always so very strong at Quire House, but Thomasina could not bear it wishy-washy. Tonight, though, it tasted quite bitter.
Thomasina got up from her chair and moved round the table to Maud. She was saying something about it being time to tell Maud the plan she had made with Simon. But Maud’s headache was getting worse and there was a dull roaring in her ears. Thomasina’s words seemed to be coming from down a long, windswept tunnel. Simon had got up from his chair as well, and came towards her. He had the same smile as Thomasina and his face was flushed with excitement or maybe from the wine he had drunk–he had drunk quite a lot, in spite of what Thomasina had said.
From a long way away she heard Thomasina say, ‘I hope you haven’t given her too much?’ and Simon replied, ‘A few drops in her wine and then in the coffee, that’s all.’
Thomasina’s voice came again, a bit sharper this time, saying she hoped Simon knew what he was doing.
‘Of course I do,’ said Simon, and bent over Maud’s chair, taking her arms and pulling her to her feet. Maud discovered she was quite dizzy and it was difficult to stand up. Simon seemed to understand this and put an arm around her waist to support her.
At first she thought they were going to carry her upstairs and leave her to sleep, and she was deeply grateful. The thought of falling fathoms down into a sleep where there would be no headache and no queer distortion of sounds was wonderful. It must have been her headache that had made her see the glinting-eyed smiles and the greedy, wet-looking teeth earlier on.
There was a draught of cold air as they went out into the main hall, and it cleared Maud’s head slightly. It had been suffocatingly hot in the dining room tonight. Perhaps all she needed was a little fresh air.
It was not suffocatingly hot in her bedroom; it was pleasantly warm from the fire burning brightly in the hearth. She began to thank Simon and Thomasina for bringing her upstairs, saying she would get undressed and get into bed. Surely Thomasina would not be expecting to do ‘It’ tonight? Surely she would sleep in the adjoining room, as she had done a couple of weeks ago when she had a cold and could not stop sneezing?
But Thomasina bent over Maud, unfastened her gown and peeled it down, and then removed her underthings. She stroked Maud’s legs and her breasts and Maud felt a stab of anger because, birthday or not, it was thoughtless of Thomasina to do this when she must see how unwell she was. The room began to spin, and the light from the fire became a vaguely sinister crimson blur like blood seeping out into the walls and soaking its way up to the ceiling…like a fire behind thick clanging iron doors…
Thomasina stood up, and through her dizzy confusion, Maud saw she was undressing very quickly, flinging her things onto the floor. So she did mean to get into bed. The thought of Thomasina’s stringy body pressing against her, and Thomasina’s hard-boned fingers jabbing inside her was almost more than Maud could bear. Thomasina seldom bothered to trim her fingernails properly so rough hangnails scraped the inside of Maud’s thighs.
The hangnails scraped her thighs now as Thomasina thrust her hands between Maud’s legs in the urgent way she did if she had drunk more wine than usual at dinner. Maud tried not to shudder or look over Thomasina’s shoulder to where the clock ticked away the minutes until she could relax and go to sleep. Fifteen minutes would it take? Sometimes it was a lot longer, but perhaps tonight it would be quick. Where was Simon, though? He must have gone out of the room without her hearing, but when? She had not heard the door open or close. She half turned her head to see the rest of the room, trying not to mind about Thomasina’s probing hands.
It was all right; the room held only herself and Thomasina. Maud looked back at the clock, thinking that surely when the minute hand reached the half hour this would be over. She saw a movement from the deep wing chair by the fire–the comfortable old chair in whose depths she had often curled up with a book before going to bed.
The chair had been turned away from the fire, so it faced the bed. Somebody was seated in it, and whoever it was had red eyes from the firelight, and a sly grin. Maud frowned and struggled to make sense of all this. She tried to push Thomasina away, because there was somebody here in the room with them–there was somebody watching them!
A log broke apart in the hearth, sending cascades of sparks shooting out, and Maud saw that it was Simon sitting in the chair. Simon Forrester was seated silently in the bedroom, watching the two of them naked on the bed, seeing how Thomasina’s fingers were thrusting up between Maud’s legs, seeing how she had pulled one of Maud’s hands down between her own thighs, so Maud could do the prodding and finger-stroking that made Thomasina gasp and shudder.
Simon was looking straight at them and, as she met his eyes, Maud felt as if she had been flung, neck-deep into boiling water. Fierce shame at being seen like this by a man engulfed her. She struggled free of Thomasina’s hands, and clawed blindly at the sheets trying to drag them over her, but it was already too late, Simon had seen, he had seen…
She cried out to Thomasina to look across the room, but Thomasina was shuddering and jerking and pulling Maud’s unwilling hand deeper, and she did not seem to hear, even when Simon got up out of the chair and came towards the bed. His eyes were still shining redly from the glow of the fire and his mouth was slack and wet–it looked ugly, Maud hated it. He had pulled off his tie, and as he crossed the room he was tearing at the buttons of his shirt. Maud saw that his chest was sprinkled with coarse dark hair.
Thomasina moved her hands away from Maud at last, and turned to look up at Simon. Something seemed to pass between them–some kind of acknowledgement, Maud thought it was. Thomasina said, ‘Ready, Simon?’ and Simon said, in a queer thick throaty voice, ‘Never readier, my dear.’ He paused, and then said, ‘By God, Thomasina, I shall have a good tale to tell in the clubs.’
‘You do and I’ll make sure half of London believes you’re an impotent imbecile,’ said Thomasina in the most vicious voice Maud had ever heard her use.
But Simon only smiled. ‘Imbecile, perhaps. Impotent, never. Didn’t you know that it’s every man’s wildest fantasy to watch two females in bed together?’
To Maud’s horror, he threw off his shoes, and unbuttoned his trousers and took them off. Then he lay down on the bed next to her.
She thought at first that between the pulsing headache and the burning humiliation she might faint; she would indeed have been very glad to tumble down into a black pit of unknowing. But something–perhaps it was even the embarrassment itself–kept her from fainting. Even when Simon lay right on top of her, scraping her breasts with his coarse black chest hair, and crushing her ribs so that it was difficult to breathe, she stayed awake and aware.
There was a kind of fumbling between her legs–at first she thought it was Thomasina’s hands again, but then she realized they were masculine hands: larger-boned and with rougher-feeling skin. Oh God, oh God, this could not be happening. But it was. He pushed her legs very wide apart and wriggled his body between them. She felt the skin of his thighs, and a hard insistent thrusting that seemed to be coming from his body and even though his weight was making it difficult to breathe, Maud drew in a gasping breath to cry out. But Thomasina clamped a hand over her mouth and whispered to her to stay quiet, asking if she wanted the servants to hear and come running? This was all part of the plan, hissed Thomasina, it was necessary if they were to have what they both wanted.
The threat of servants almost silenced Maud, but she managed to fight free for long enough to gasp out a question, ‘What plan? I don’t understand—’
‘For pity’s sake, the baby,’ said Thomasina, sounding exasperated. ‘I thought you knew that. I thought you understood.’
But Maud had not known and had not understood. She did not really understand now. All she knew was that she was being half suffocated by a man whose breath smelt of sour wine, and whose body smelt alien and sweaty, and who was doing something to her that was starting to hurt very much indeed.
But Maud could not spare any attention for Thomasina, her whole being was focused on Simon, on trying to get free and on fighting the pain. Whatever Simon was doing, and however he was doing it, it hurt. Something was slamming hard into her, setting up the same kind of pain she had every month–the pain you must never talk about, only to a doctor. But it had never been as severe as this.
‘Almost there,’ said Thomasina’s voice in her ear. Maud wanted to shout at Thomasina to shut up, because it was not Thomasina lying here, being crushed and with this rhythmic banging going on and on inside her, bruising and tearing…
She began to sob and hit out at Simon’s face, but Thomasina caught her hands at once and imprisoned them. ‘Little cat,’ she said lovingly. Maud heard, with a fresh wave of panic, that Thomasina’s voice had taken on a familiar thick throatiness. She’s finding this exciting, thought Maud, and this was almost the worst thing yet, because Thomasina ought not to find this brutishness exciting.
Simon’s face was only inches from Maud’s and his breathing was beginning to sound like the pumping of a rusty engine. Thomasina was telling him to go on, go on, Simon, and saying something about the bloody wine, told you not to drink so much, if you lose it now I’ll kill you…
She thought Simon gasped something about being nowhere near losing it–‘Hard as the devil’s forehead, trust me for that, you bitch.’ The pain slammed deeper, tearing her to shreds, and then the rhythmic pumping suddenly became very fast and the pain scaled impossible heights, and Maud began to sob and tried to fight him off, but he was too strong for her. She half fell into a black spinning cavern where there was only the pain and the crushing heaviness of his body.
Simon let out a groan and slumped down, his face buried in Maud’s neck so that she could feel his bristly chin. She really must be bleeding, because there was a thick wetness between her legs, and if it was blood it would be all over the sheets, and that would serve Thomasina right because she would have to explain it to the servants…She wondered if she would bleed to death. Then she wondered whether she cared, because the world had shrunk to this firelit room and the smell of sweat and stale wine, and to the cramping pain at the base of her stomach.
Simon rolled off her, still gasping hoarsely. His eyes closed and he dropped into a dreadful snoring sleep. His mouth fell open and the stale wine on his breath gusted into Maud’s face. Even so Maud drew in a shuddering breath of relief, because whatever this had been, it seemed to be over.
After a space of time that might have been two minutes or two hours, she was roused by Simon stumbling back to his own bed. He paused at the door, and smiled across at Maud: it was a fuzzy drunken smile but his eyes still had that horrid, knowing, gloating look. He said, ‘Sleep well, Maud,’ and went out. Thomasina stood at the side of the bed for a moment, looking down at Maud, smiling the same terrible smile. Then she followed Simon out of the room.
CHAPTER NINE
Maud lay absolutely still, hardly noticing the ache between her legs. There was no room in her mind for the pain of her body or the bloodied state of her nightgown; her entire being was filled with terror in case the cousins came back.
She stared into the darkness, seeing Simon’s greedy gloating smile, seeing Thomasina’s face red and ugly with excitement, and hearing her voice urging Simon to go on…
Thomasina had gone into the nearby bathroom; Maud could hear the clanking of the plumbing as Thomasina washed and brushed her teeth as she always did before going to bed. Was Thomasina going to come to bed as if this was an ordinary night? If she so much as touched Maud, Maud thought she would scream.
But when Thomasina came back she got quietly into bed and lay without speaking. Maud did not move; she was reliving the feel of Simon’s body, and the deep spiking pain. What if Thomasina and Simon intended to do this to her every night? She could not bear it. She would do anything other than endure it.
With the thought, the germ of a plan slid into her mind. At first she thought she would not dare follow it, but when she considered a bit more, she knew it was worth taking any risk if it meant she would get away.
She waited for about ten minutes and then got out of bed, not particularly troubling to be quiet, and went across to the big walkin cupboard. Almost at once there was a movement from the bed, and Thomasina’s voice, a bit blurry from all the wine she had drunk earlier, said, ‘Maud? Where are you going?’
Maud’s heart leapt up into her throat and the palms of her hands turned clammy with nervous sweat, but she said, ‘Bathroom. To wash and get a clean nightgown. I’m in a bit of a mess.’ She waited, willing Thomasina to open her eyes and see the blood.
Thomasina did open her eyes. She looked at Maud and said, ‘Oh. Oh yes, I see. It’s on the sheet as well. We’d better tell the servants that it’s your monthly bleeding, not that it’s anything to do with them. It’s stopped though, hasn’t it?’
‘I think so.’
‘Poor little virgin bird,’ said Thomasina, and closed her eyes again.
Poor little virgin bird. The words ought not to have stung–virginity was something to be prized, it was what every good girl saved for marriage–but there had been a patronizing pity in Thomasina’s voice that Maud hated. She clenched her fists and thought that one day she would make Thomasina pay.
She took her dressing gown from its hook on the back of the cupboard door, and made a play of putting it on. In fact she put on her dark woollen cloak, wrapping it firmly around her, then draping the dressing gown on top of it. If Thomasina was watching in the unlit bedroom it was not very likely she would realize what Maud had done. Even so, Maud was careful to keep the cupboard door wide open to screen her from the bed. Under cover of pretending to look for her slippers, she took the day-gown she had worn that morning, and crammed it under her dressing gown. Underthings were in a small drawer; she grabbed several garments more or less at random, and thrust them into the dressing-gown pockets along with stockings. Shoes? She remembered she had rubber boots in the little room near the sculleries; she could slip those on downstairs.
Her heart was hammering as she left the bedroom. Supposing Thomasina came after her? But there was no movement from the bed, and Maud reached the bathroom safely, shut and locked the door.
The bathroom had been very modern in Thomasina’s father’s day, but it was not modern now. The plumbing clanked embarrassingly loudly so that everyone in the house knew when you visited the lavatory which Maud normally hated, but tonight it would hide the sounds of her escape. First, though, she threw off the bloodied nightgown and sponged the blood from her legs. She supposed she ought to be frightened by it, but she was beyond being frightened and Thomasina had seemed to think it was all right. There were gluey smears of something that did not seem to be blood on Maud’s legs as well; she had no idea what they might be, but she washed them off.
Then she pulled on her underthings and the day-dress, flung the cloak around her shoulders, and pulled the cistern chain. Under cover of the pipes banging and the water whooshing, Maud tiptoed down the stairs and through the darkened house. Her rubber boots were where they usually were, and she stepped into them, and slid back the bolt on the scullery door.
She ran across the parkland. A thin dispirited rain was falling, but she did not care. She did not care, either, that it was a fairly long way to Toft House: she would have walked all night to get there. As she went along, she thought up a story to tell her father. Once inside dear familiar Toft House, she need never go out again. Her mother had gone out less and less over the years–Maud could remember that very clearly indeed. She could remember how frightened her mamma had become of the world. ‘Not safe,’ she used to say, cowering in her
room with the curtains closed. ‘Nowhere is safe.’
Maud understood now how her mamma must have felt. Tonight she was frightened of the world, frightened that no matter where she went, Simon and Thomasina Forrester would be waiting for her.
As she went down Quire’s wide tree-lined carriageway, she heard a soft laugh from somewhere, and her heart jumped with fear before she realized it was her own laughter. This was quite worrying because only people who were not wholly normal laughed out loud to themselves. What if I am a little bit mad, thought Maud defiantly. I think I might be allowed to be a bit mad after what’s just happened.
She went on towards the gates, wondering if she would have to climb over them; the gardeners usually locked them when they went home. The night was filled with little stirrings and rustlings. Twice Maud froze thinking there was a soft footfall behind her, but when she whipped round, nothing stirred. Just to be sure, she stepped off the drive and walked on the soft grass that fringed it. Ah, that was better.
But the sound came again, and this time it was nearer and more definite. Maud stopped in the deep shadow of one of the old trees, and listened. Surely it was only the rain dripping from the trees? Or was it someone creeping along after her? Thomasina? No, Thomasina would come stomping loudly and angrily through the night, shouting for Maud, like the ogres in fairy stories did when they put on seven-league boots and strode across the landscape after the humans.
Simon would not stomp through the night shouting. Simon would slink slyly and silently, smiling his dreadful smile, his hands opening and closing as if they were savouring the thought of Maud’s body again. Could it be Simon who was coming after her? Whoever it was, he–or she–was a lot nearer. Maud cast a frightened glance around her. Could she run down the drive and hope to outrun her pursuer, and get to the gates first? But if she had to climb over them–they were very high and she was encumbered with her long skirts and cloak–Simon, if it was Simon, would be on her before she was halfway over.