It was some weeks after Agathe left the house that Annette began to discover Father Thomas’s ‘ways’.
At first he’d hardly spoken to her, just expected his food to be on the table, his clothes to be laundered and the house to be cleaned. Agathe had taught Annette well and she had no trouble performing these tasks. She kept the house clean and tidy and took messages for the priest when he was out of the house. The first time she had written down a message, Father Thomas had looked at her askance.
‘Where did you learn to read and write?’ he demanded.
‘Please, Monsieur l’Abbé,’ she replied, addressing him as he had stipulated that she should, ‘Madame Sauze taught me.’
Father Thomas pursed his lips. That interfering old woman again, he thought, but he looked at Annette with new interest in his eyes. She was young, not more than eighteen, and had a certain awkward prettiness. She was, of course, a child of shame, dumped as a newborn bundle on the doorstep at St Luke’s. As such, obviously conceived in sin, she was hardly worthy of thought, and provided with bed and board, she was paid a few sous a month, hardly more than a slave.
Over the next few weeks things began to change. To his dismay Father Thomas found himself watching her. When she came into the dining room to serve his meals his eyes followed her, aware of the fluid movement of her maturing body unconfined beneath her shapeless, black uniform dress.
Child of the devil, he thought. Conceived in sin and now tempting him as Eve had tempted Adam. For several days he closed his mind to the way she ‘flaunted’ herself, provoking him to sin, but she was there, in the house, and he found it increasingly difficult to ignore her and his own response.
It was on a dark November evening, when she was in the kitchen clearing away the supper dishes before sitting down to her own evening meal, that she suddenly found him at the kitchen door.
‘I am going to a meeting now,’ he said. ‘There is no need to wait up for me.’
This surprised Annette. If Father Thomas had no evening meetings he normally remained in his study, having curtly dismissed her after supper. If he was going out on parish business he expected her to remain downstairs and wait for his return, despite the fact that he always insisted he should lock up himself.
‘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, she felt her heartrate slacken 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 seemed 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.’
And so it began. He did not come to her every night, but the fear was always there. In the daytime he continued to treat her as he always had, snapping out orders and expecting her to jump to his bidding. Most of the time she did so, but if she was too slow, or showed any sign of rebellion, he would grip her by the shoulder, his bony fingers biting into her flesh, and catching her by the hair, jerk it hard and painfully, his eyes promising further punishment… later. After that first night, he never slapped her round the face again. His attacks could be vicious, but nothing ever showed; there was never a visible mark on her. No caller at the house, or visitor come to discuss parish affairs with the priest, would ever suspect the cruelty that lived within it. And fearing the eternal fires of hell, Annette spoke to no one.
Once, when she was certain that Father Thomas would be safely saying Mass in the church, Agathe went back to the Clergy House to visit Annette. She was shocked at the sight of the girl she had lived with and come to love. She could see the pale face and drooping shoulders of a deeply unhappy child, for she still considered Annette a child despite her probable eighteen years.
‘Annette!’ she cried. ‘Are you ill?’
Annette shook her head. ‘No, madame,’ she replied, mustering a weak smile and leading the way into the familiar kitchen. ‘It’s hard work on my own, but apart from that, everything is fine.’ There was absolutely no question of Annette confiding her nightmare life to Madame Sauze. Father Thomas’s threats of the fires of hell kept her silent, but Madame Sauze looked at her askance, not believing her.
‘Annette,’ she said, ‘if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.’
‘No, madame,’ Annette replied vehemently, before saying more quietly, ‘no, madame, there is nothing wrong.’ She started as she heard the grandfather clock in the hall begin to chime. ‘Please, madame, please go, I need to start on the midday meal.’
‘Of course,’ Agathe said. She didn’t want to be there when Father Thomas got home either. ‘I just wanted to know that you were getting on all right with Father Thomas. He’s lucky to have you. Perhaps I’ll see you in the market one day. We could drink a cup of coffee together?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Annette as she hurried to open the front door. ‘Yes, I’ll look out for you.’
As the door closed behind her and Agathe walked away, she saw Father Thomas emerging from the church. She watched as he let himself into the Clergy House, and sighed. As she had thought those months ago, Father Thomas must be an exacting man to work for. Clearly there was something the matter, but unless Annette trusted her enough to confide in her, there was nothing she could do.