I tossed up whether to tell Olivier about punishing Paula, as we did not have secrets from each other. However I was so uncertain as to how he might react that I felt it was best to keep it to myself, at least for now. For all I knew it was going to be a one-off incident not to be repeated.
Francesca was continuing to progress well and was definitely looking healthier and eating better. However she still had major mood swings and I knew she was struggling when she was feeling down. It was then that the urge to drink or have a smoke was the hardest to combat.
At nights she was struggling to sleep and I would often hear her moving about the house, and to be honest I was suspicious as to what she might be up to. The night after my punishment session with Paula I was also struggling to get to sleep. My mind was having trouble absorbing the crazy things that had been happening in my life over recent weeks.
I decided to get myself a drink of water, and climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Olivier. As I silently walked down the hallway I heard small rustling noises coming from Francesca's room, and she was obviously awake. I debated what to do. I didn't want to invade the privacy of her bedroom, but the longer I stood at her door, listening, the more I became convinced she was up to no good. I just knew she was having a smoke, or worse, consuming alcohol she had somehow smuggled into her room.
I decided I just had to act. Silently I gripped the door handle and suddenly swung the door open at the same time I switched the light on. Francesca looked up at me, startled by my sudden entrance. Her hands were under the blankets between her legs that were bent at the knees. I was convinced she was trying to conceal something from me. In a flash I rushed to her bed and yanked the sheets away. But there was no bottle of alcohol or packet of cigarettes. What I did find was a hand resting against her swollen labia, telltale juices on two of her fingers. She had been masturbating. I was embarrassed; mortified even. I had totally misinterpreted the situation. I couldn't think what to stay, and I think I gave her a disgusted look before quickly fleeing her room, noisily shutting her door behind me.
The following morning the relationship between Francesca and myself was strained. Francesca was clearly embarrassed by being caught out playing with herself, and she did her best to avoid me. I didn't help the situation by virtually ignoring her. Although I had no idea why, I was angry and disgusted that she was masturbating herself under my roof. But as the day wore on I began to think more rationally about what had happened the night before. What possible harm was there if Francesca was masturbating? She was after all deprived of any male sexual companionship while staying with us in New Zealand. It was her alcohol and smoking addictions we were trying to combat, not anything to do with sexual addictions. Francesca also had trouble sleeping at night and it could be that masturbating helped her relax. I realised I was being such a bloody hypocrite.
I didn't get a chance to speak to Francesca alone as my daughter, Abigail, arrived home from school, but I was determined to apologize for the way I had acted. That evening I was in my bedroom when I heard Francesca go to the toilet and return to her room. Olivier was already asleep so silently I walked down the hall and tapped politely on Francesca's bedroom door. She responded by asking who it was, and when I said it was Jane she told me to come in, but I sensed hesitation in her voice.
She was already back in bed, so I sat down beside her. I then apologized profusely to her for my conduct the previous evening. I told her she had every right to masturbate if she wanted to, and I was wrong for reacting in the manner I had.
Francesca responded by giving me one of her vulnerable, shy smiles. She was embarrassed by the conversation, and for a while she just looked at me with her wide, deep blue eyes.
Finally she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "It's just that....." her voice tailed off.
I waited patiently for her to continue.
"It's just that at night the demons come. Sleep is not easy for me."
I nodded my understanding.
"I lie awake for hours, and I know I shouldn't, but I find myself craving a drink or a smoke."
"I understand," I added supportively.
"To keep myself sane I focus my mind on my fantasies, and play with myself." Francesca blushed at her intimate confession. "It helps me relax and sleep."
Her frank confession made me realise how dumb and callus my reaction had been the previous night. Again I reinforced the point that she should feel free to continue to masturbate whenever she wished. Francesca nodded shyly, and I left her to it.
The following night I awoke shortly after midnight and for some unknown reason I poked my head out into the hallway and saw there was a light on in Francesca's room. I am not sure what my motivation was, but without forethought I found myself down the hallway and knocking quietly on her door, careful not to wake Olivier or Abigail.
When I heard a faint 'come in' from within the room I entered, closing the door behind me, and seating myself on the bed beside Francesca, who was lying propped up by two pillows. She had her reading lamp on. From the expressions on her face she looked lonely and tense.
"Can't sleep?" I enquired, running my hand through her short cropped dark hair.
She shook her head to indicate 'no'.
"The demons are on the prowl, eh?" I enquired with genuine sympathy. "Yes," she responded quietly.
"Tell me about your fantasies?" I tried to ask the question as casually as I could.
Francesca seemed bewildered by my request.
"What is your favourite fantasy you like to use when you are playing with yourself?"