Chapter 65: Victoria Schormann

Ashford: Friday 16th October

It had all gone wrong. Seth had no intention of keeping his promise; he’d become more and more distant each day. In fact, Victoria admitted, she knew he was avoiding her. Except for the other night. She’d hated that. Now she didn’t want to be part of the commune; it wasn’t anything like she’d thought it would be. But how to get away without all the unpleasantness Melody – Christine, she corrected herself – was going through?

She stood by the window at the side of her bed, twisting a length of her hair around her finger until it was knotted. Untangling it, close to her face, she saw how bitten down her nails were. The skin on the sides of her thumbnails was raw.

It seemed like months since she’d arrived, yet it was only about four weeks.

She peeped through the plain grey curtain at her window. Christine was walking stiffly behind one of the men towards the large gates. She was dressed in flared denim jeans and a white tee-shirt, unlike the long flowing dresses Victoria had seen her in before. She carried nothing: no bags, no clothes.

‘They’re sending her out with nothing,’ Victoria murmured, looking hastily around to see if there was anyone else in the dormitory. But all the other girls were in morning prayers, being talked at by the Master.

It was strange, she thought, how easily she’d slipped into calling Seth that, even in her head: how easily she’d managed to stop herself being so mesmerised by him. Two nights ago, when he’d summoned her to his room she’d gone, not knowing what to expect. She’d thought by explaining to him how she felt, that she didn’t fit in and had to leave, he might understand because her time with the commune had been so short. And she’d been determined to tell him that she wasn’t going to be treated the same as Christine; she just wanted out.

But she hadn’t had the chance; he’d wanted sex and he gave her no chance to refuse. It had been horrible; he had used her as if she was somebody he didn’t know, let alone loved. Like a prostitute, she told herself; no kisses, only his thrusts inside her until he’d collapsed, rolled over and gone to sleep. She’d crept away to sit shivering in one of the baths, pouring cold water over her body time and time again.

Now she shuddered, grasping the curtain tighter and trying to get rid of the images.

She saw Christine waiting by the gate, her head held high. Victoria could see that the man was talking, his face contorted with the venom he was spitting out at her. At last he opened the gates just far enough for Christine to squeeze through. Victoria saw him deliberately tread on her heel, taking her shoe off with the toe of his sandal. For a moment the girl faltered. But then she bent down, picked up the shoe and walked away, limping.

Victoria wasn’t aware she was weeping until the scalding tears fell onto her hand gripping the curtain.

When the man turned round she froze; it was River, the older Irish man who, over the past week, had shadowed her, touching her whenever he had the chance, whispering foul words. He wanted sex with her, she had no doubt about that, and she was running out of ways to avoid him.

‘I need to leave as well,’ she muttered. If only she’d had the courage to go with Christine, she thought. Now she’d missed her chance.

‘Summer?’

Victoria spun round.

Jasmine stood by the door of the dormitory. ‘If you don’t hurry you’ll miss the meeting with the Elders. The Master sent me to look for you.’ She crossed the dorm and stared out of the window. She gave a short laugh. ‘Ah, it was River you were so engrossed in.’ She raised her hand and waved to him. ‘Think he’s looking for you, too, Summer,’ she murmured. ‘You two going to get it together?’

‘No.’ Victoria caught her breath; she’d spoken too harshly. She gave the girl a smile and shrugged.

Jasmine laughed again. ‘Well, you’ll have all the time in the world to decide. The Master has given him permission to talk to you.’ She sat by Victoria and rested her head on her shoulder. Victoria forced herself not to recoil. She took small shallow breaths to prevent any movement. ‘And he’s told me to tell you, you can have two days off from your chores.’ She whispered in Victoria’s ear. ‘He’s allocated you the purple room for three nights next week.’

The purple room? Victoria’s heart thumped. The purple room was only given to those couples who had made a commitment to one another. Sour bile rose in her throat as she pictured the festoons of flowers and ribbons laced over the makeshift four-poster bed, the mirrors on the ceiling. The false artful glances of the other girls.

‘No!’

Jasmine moved away. She scowled. ‘You should appreciate how privileged you’ve been. You’ve been the Master’s special one for longer than most of us were…’

Longer than most of us? Victoria thought. Less than a month? What an idiot she’d been.

Jasmine was still speaking. ‘It’s about time you learned you’re no different or better than the rest of us. Don’t think we didn’t see how you sucked up to Melody.’

Victoria wished she had been brave enough to comfort the girl. What should she do. Say? Play for time, she thought, making herself smile. ‘Let me brush my hair and I’ll come down in a minute.’

‘No time for all that.’ Jasmine’s grip on Victoria’s arm was like a vice. ‘We’re late already. We’ll be lucky if we don’t have sanctions placed on us.’ She pulled Victoria close, her eyes narrow slits. ‘And if we do, I’ll make sure you do the extra chores they give me.’