Chapter 20

Author's Note: Excerpt from Great Expectations is © Charles Dickens.

Dafne's first dinner in the church was an uncomfortable experience, being waited on by her fellow maids. She couldn't bring herself to look them in eye, fearing the judgement reflected back at her. She wondered if Resa knew yet. If she didn't, it would only be a matter of time. News travelled quickly amongst the maids. What would Resa think when she heard? Likely she would be confused, angry. It frustrated Dafne that she had no way of explaining the situation to her, if she could only do that...

But there was no use dwelling on something she couldn't control. She had to focus on her present. There was a full plate in front of her but she had little appetite. It wasn't only the presence the maids which had turned her off her food. It was the eating habits of the men around her, the way they shovelled food into their mouths, spraying bits everywhere as they talked. It churned her stomach.

Basta was seated on the left of her. He wasn't the worst of them but what annoyed her was the extremely smug look on his face. She knew this self-satisfied expression had a lot to do with her. Having her sit next to him, it was as though he was showing her off to the rest of the men, like some sort of prize. It seemed to have worked because she had caught some of the men nudging each other and gesturing in their direction, exchanging knowing smiles. It was humiliating.

She glared back at them but knew there was nothing she could do about their ugly uninformed thoughts. In any case, they were inconsequential. They were only spectators.

Basta was her real concern. But while he was looking mighty pleased with himself, he hadn't said much to her since they had sat down. Every now and then, she felt his gaze on her but that was all. To this effect, his smugness was harmless and she decided leave it at that, for the time being.

It was Silvio who was the talkative one. He was sitting on her right and she was surprised that he managed to eat his dinner around his constant stream of chatter. Basta had even felt the need to intervene, telling him to "shut up and let her eat". But Dafne had urged Silvio to continue, grateful for the distraction. The boy's smiling face, seeing how happy he was, it made her feel that maybe she had made the right decision.

She was relieved when they left the church, to leave the place where the men made merry while the women suffered.

The three of them made their way to Basta's house. A full moon hung in the sky. Dafne starred at it captivated by its beauty. To look upon it was a pleasure that she had taken for granted before her captivity. She promised herself that from now on she would make it a point to look at it each night.

"Dafne?" she heard Silvio say.

She looked down and saw that she had not only fallen behind the other two but had come to complete stop.

"Sorry, I was just looking at the moon."

Silvio's head tilted upwards, "Oh yeah, it's a full moon."

Basta didn't look up.

"Witches come out to ride during full moons," he said matter-of-factly, arms crossed.

The randomness of this comment struck Dafne as funny but she knew better than to laugh at Basta, especially as his tone was serious.

"Maybe we'll see Mortola flying on her broomstick," she suggested.

Dafne met Silvio's gaze and they both grinned.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Basta remarked dryly. He was glancing up now as though he expected to her to appear.

"I've heard its good luck to marry during full moon," Dafne said.

Basta looked down, straight at her,

"Got someone in mind have you?" he said.

Suddenly Dafne had Capricorn's words from earlier playing her head, telling her that this man was in love with her.

"No," she said. It came out more forcefully than she meant, provoked by that taunting voice.

For a split second, she thought she saw Basta flinch.

Did he flinch because he could read the deeper meaning in that one word? That no really meant not you.

They surveyed each other in silence. Silvio looked back and forth between the two of them, rocking restlessly on the balls of his feet.

Then Basta shrugged,

"A full moon isn't going to help you much then, is it?" he drawled, "But I can tell you this, its bad luck to sleep directly under a full moon so we better get moving."

So they did and continued on to Basta's house.

"Welcome home," Basta said to Dafne as she passed through the front door. She remembered he had said the same thing when she had been brought to the village.

Silvio would sleep on the couch, Basta informed her, and she could have the bed. Dafne couldn't help but be touched by this generosity - after realising that he didn't mean that she would be sharing it with him.

"Where will you sleep?" she asked.

"The armchair," he replied, "Believe me I've slept in far worse places," he added after seeing her doubtful expression.

"Will you read the story now?" Silvio said impatiently from the couch.

Dafne obliged and settled down beside him. She opened the book, which she had been holding close all night, and began to read,

"My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip..."

Pip was about to steal Joe Gargery's file when Dafne glanced over to see that Silvio was asleep.

Over in his armchair, Basta's eyes were also closed.

Dafne got up as quietly as she could though she needn't have worried about disturbing Silvio. The boy had begun to snore. She smiled and reached down to touch his head fondly.

She began making her way to the stairs, to Basta's bedroom, but stopped. She turned to the front door. The though seized her that she could just open it and walk out. She took a step forward but that was as far as she got as she reconsidered. It wasn't as easier as that. The streets were crawling with Capricorn's men and she had little bearing of which direction to go. More than that, she couldn't leave behind the people she cared about. Resa, Silvio, Vanetta... Through them, she was attached to the village in a way that was more effective than being bound in chains.

"So you're not going to try it then," Basta's voice made her jump.

She turned sharply to the armchair and found him starring back at her.

"What do you mean?" Dafne said, annoyed at being startled.

"The door," Basta nodded towards it, "I thought you might try and open it, thinking now would be a good time to escape."

He was just pretending to be asleep, Dafne realised angrily, waiting to see what I would do.

She glared at him,

"Why would I do that?"

Basta shrugged,

"You tell me. You tried to escape before, remember?"

Dafne folded her arms,

"You may recall that didn't work out so well," she said testily.

"Well it's good to see you're learning from your mistakes," Basta replied pleasantly.

Dafne sighed, he was so infuriating.

"Anyway you'd break the kid's heart if you did," Basta went on, pointing at Silvio, "I've never seen him so happy."

Dafne smiled, in spite of herself.

"He's the reason I'm here."

Basta didn't reply.

"Isn't he?" she prompted. She needed to hear him say it.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"That's right," he said softly, she wasn't sure if it was tiredness or resignation in his voice.

Dafne crossed the room.

"Where are you going?" Basta asked.

"The window," Dafne said.

She pushed back the curtain to peer out,

"I want to see the moon again."

"You know the strange thing about the moon in your land -" Dafne heard him get up and walk over, "Is that it's exactly the same as the moon from my land."

He was now standing beside her and looking out the window as she was.

"When I first arrived here, everything was so different but the moon was the same."

Dafne turned to him. His eyes were clouded in memory.

"I suppose that would have been a comfort to you," she said quietly.

Basta laid a palm on the glass.

"Yes it was," he turned his back on the window, returning to the present, "But then I discovered all the good things this world had to offer," he grinned, "Guns, cars and cigarettes, little mouse."

Dafne raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Out of all the wonders you pick those three?"

Basta ignored her, "And chocolate too. I like chocolate."

"Chocolate," Dafne said dreamily, "It's been so long since I've had chocolate."

"So you like chocolate little mouse?" Basta said, catching the obvious yearning in her voice.

Dafne rolled her eyes.

"I wish you would call me Dafne and yes I do."

Basta smiled slyly,

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Dafne sighed but shut her eyes all the same. A few moments passed in blindness.

"Open them now," Basta instructed.

Dafne did and dangling in her line of vision was a block of chocolate.

"Surprise"

Through the wrapping, she could smell it, the rich aroma, and she realised she was starving.

Dafne reached for it but Basta yanked it away,

"You can't have all of it but I'll let you have some."

"Alright," Dafne went to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing? You can't eat it on the floor. You'll make a mess. Come sit at the table."

Dafne was too focused on the prospect of chocolate to argue. She followed him into the kitchen. Her eagerness seemed to amuse Basta.

"I wish I'd known sooner that I could control you with chocolate."

Not caring about looking childish, Dafne shot out her hand.

"Chocolate please"

This made him laugh. He broke off a piece and handed it to her.

Dafne popped it into her mouth, savouring the sugary cube as it hit her tongue.

"It's good," she said blissfully.

"I can see that, from the look on your face," Basta said, biting into his own piece.

Dafne was struck by how surreal this situation was. Sitting with a criminal and sharing his chocolate. Yet it was strangely pleasant and she couldn't help laughing at the absurdity of it. She would have never imagined this scenario.

Basta regarded her curiously,

"What's so funny?" he asked.

She smiled, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry it's just... kind of weird is all."

"What is?"

"Sitting here eating chocolate," Dafne told him, mentally adding with you.

Basta looked uncertain.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dafne answered honestly, "It is."

He looked somewhat relieved.

"Good," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "I don't see what's so funny about it."

Dafne waved her hand, "Never mind. It's the sugar talking. Can I have another piece?"

Basta pushed the bar across and leaned back in his chair,

"I suppose it is strange," he admitted after a moment.

Chocolate dissolving in her mouth, Dafne nodded.

"Having you here," Basta went on, "I'm... not used to having people in my house. Even the boy, he's not usually here."

Dafne swallowed so she could reply,

"I hope it's not too much of an intrusion on you."

This seemed like the polite thing to say but Basta made of noise of annoyance.

"That's not what I meant," he said, in a slightly growling voice, "I was just agreeing with you. Of course I want you here. If I didn't, I wouldn't have gone to the trouble, would I?"

"I know that," Dafne said quietly, thinking that she would to choose her words carefully with Basta. He was quick to find offence even when there wasn't any. He was a man who seemed constantly on the defensive.

Basta suddenly leaned across the table. Dafne tensed, not so much out of the unexpectedness of it but because it was him. It was like an animal sensing danger. He could have been reaching for the chocolate but he was reaching for her, for her hand. His hand enclosed over hers. Why did he feel the need to touch her when it was unwarranted, uninvited.

"I meant what I said earlier," Basta said in a low almost conspiratorial voice, "About us being friends. I want us to be happy here. I want you to be happy."

This was a well-meaning objective but there was something about the way he said. It sounded like a demand. Be happy or else.

"I can't see why not," Dafne said as it sounded reasonable without promising anything.

This answer must have been acceptable because Basta nodded.

"You made the right decision," he told her, "I'm going to make sure of that."

The conviction in his voice unnerved her but then she remembered what Capricorn had said:

People who are desperate for kindness are easy to control, give them an inch and they'll follow you blindly.

Dafne looked into Basta's expectant face. She realised he was saying these things in order to reassure her. He was eager to please her, to make her like him. Knowing this, she was able to smile at him, even though it was one of sympathy.

What kind of person would think up a man like Basta? A man who craved acceptance so desperately from others. He was a construct of someone's imagination, a fictitious entity. Though now, while he was stretched across the table, holding her hand, he was so real, so vulnerably human.

"I'm sure you will," she told him, her pity making her more willing to give him a chance, even when she had no reason to, not after the things he had done.

She moved to place her free hand over his, felt it tense on contact. When she looked into his face, there was a mixture of surprise and uncertainty etched on it. He seemed at a loss at what to do. It was Basta's right hand she was touching, the one he wielded his knife in, using it to threaten and wound.

Strange, that in touching this hand with its history of violence, she had rendered its owner so still. Stranger still was the rush she felt in producing such a reaction. Control, that's what it was, in this moment, she was in control. Basta was watching her intently like a dog waiting for its master's command.

Give them an inch and they'll follow you blindly.

There was truth in Capricorn's words but Dafne wasn't Capricorn. She had no interest in controlling another person. She knew what it was like to be subjugated.

"I think I might go to bed," she said.

Basta blinked rapidly like someone coming out of sleep.

"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed.

She felt a prickle of something but pushed it aside,

"I'm tired."

"Alright little mouse," Basta said.

She slipped away from him like slipping out of a glove, he offered no resistance.

"Good night."

She looked back at him as she went. With the rest of the house so dark and the kitchen light shining on him like a spotlight, sitting at the table, he looked so... alone. She was almost compelled to go back over to him.

Thankfully, he knew how to put on a brave face,

"Sweet mousy dreams," he said, smiling that twisted smile of his.

It was strange climbing into Basta's bed. The pillow smelt of peppermint. It was oddly comforting. Lying there, inhaling the scent, she felt somehow safe. Perhaps it had something to do with knowing the man downstairs, though he was more than capable, wished her no harm and in some unexplainable way that meant that in his house she was protected.

With this in mind, she slept soundly.

To be continued...