Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys [15]
During this time, nearly eighteen months, my stepfather often came to see me. He interviewed Mother Superior first, then I would go into the parlour dressed ready for dinner or a visit to friends. He gave me presents when we parted, sweets, a locket, bracelet, once a very pretty dress which, of course, I could not wear.
The last time he came was different. I knew that as soon as I got into the room. He kissed me, held me at arm’s length looking at me carefully and critically, then smiled and said that I was taller than he thought. I reminded him that I was over seventeen, a grown woman. ‘I’ve not forgotten your present,’ he said.
Because I felt shy and ill at ease I answered coldly, ‘I can’t wear all these things you buy for me.
‘You can wear what you like when you live with me,’ he said.
‘Where? In Trinidad?’
‘Of course not. Here, for the time being. With me and your Aunt Cora who is coming home at last. She says another English winter will kill her. And Richard. You can’t be hidden away all your life.’
‘Why not? I thought.
I suppose he noticed my dismay because he began to joke, pay me compliments, and ask me such absurd questions that soon I was laughing too. How would I like to live in England? Then, before I could answer, had I learnt dancing, or were the nuns too strict?
‘They are not strict at all,’ I said. ‘The Bishop who visits them every year says they are lax. Very lax. It’s the climate he says.’
‘I hope they told him to mind his own business.’
‘She did. Mother Superior did. Some of the others were frightened. They are not strict but no one has taught me to dance.’
‘That won’t be difficult. I want you to be happy, Antoinette, secure, I’ve tried to arrange, but we’ll have time to talk about that later.’
As we were going out of the convent gate he said in a careless voice, ‘I have asked some English friends to spend next winter here. You won’t be dull.’
‘Do you think they’ll come? I said doubtfully
‘One of them will. I’m certain of that.’
It may have been the way he smiled, but again a feeling of dismay, sadness, loss, almost choked me. This time I did not let him see it.
It was like that morning when I found the dead horse. Say nothing and it may not be true.
But they all knew at the convent. The girls were very curious but I would not answer their questions and for the first time I resented the nuns’ cheerful faces.
They are safe. How can they know what it can be like outside?
This was the second time I had my dream.
Again I have left the house at Coulibri. It is still night and I am walking towards the forest. I am wearing a long dress and thin slippers, so I walk with difficulty, following the man who is with me and holding up the skirt of my dress. It is white and beautiful and I don’t wish to get it soled. I follow him, sick with fear but I make no effort to save myself; if anyone were to try to save me, I would refuse. This must happen. Now we have reached the forest. We are under the tall dark trees and there is no wind. ‘Here?’ He turns and looks at me, his face black with hatred, and when I see this I begin to cry. He smiles slyly. ‘Not here, not yet,’ he says, and I follow him, weeping. Now I do not try to hold up my dress, it trails in the dirt, my beautiful dress. We are no longer in the forest but in an enclosed garden surrounded by a stone wall and the trees are different trees. I do not know them. There are steps leading upwards. It is dark to see the wall or the steps, but I know they are there and