Chapter 8: Francesca Moves Up

Day Fourteen

Meanwhile, Francesca had reported back to Angela and was helping to build the raft. It was a pretty ramshackle affair, but would serve its purpose. It consisted of a number of variously sized and shaped bits of tree, driftwood and furniture salvaged from the wreck. A professional job it was very definitely not! By noon it was ready and by three in the afternoon, the last of the cases was ashore. There had been many anxious moments as the extraordinary contraption had made its uncertain way back and forth, with the swimming Frieda and Francesca guiding it on its lumbering and uncertain way.

The cases, once landed, were opened in the same way as the first. Francesca told Angela that this had originally been Joanne's idea. Anything to do the absent leader's reputation a bit of good! You never knew, she reasoned. Even that bitch must have a heart somewhere under all that steel!

One incident occurred in the course of the transfer. They were both under water and preparing to surface when Angela snagged her foot. It was quite trapped in a part of the wreckage and the girl was panicking. Francesca, used to all the nooks and crannies of this wreck by now, was able to free her with minimal damage to the foot.

It was a simple thing to get Angela loose - child's play, but when they got ashore, the older woman was all over Francesca with her gratitude.

"You think very quickly, Moroni. For a spoilt little rich girl and the daughter of a Senator, you've come on fast. Is there anything I can do by way of a favour? I owe you my life."

"I suppose letting Joanne or Annie go a bit early, or reducing or even cancelling Joanne's final beating would be too much to ask?"

"Sorry, Moroni. Those are things I cannot and will not do. I want to do something for you and you alone."

Francesca's eyes were aflame with rage. "They are my dearest friends. They saved my life and they are suffering so badly. All I think about is how they're doing. Any way, forget it. What I did for you, I'd have done for anybody - Commander, Ma'am. May I be excused, please?"

Angela excused her, repeating yet again how indebted she was to Francesca. Francesca did not trust herself to keep her tongue in order and took herself off for a vigorous walk into the hills. She was a very angry Francesca. Like Annie, she had not chosen to be part of this rebel army. She had been willing to serve under Joanne because she had liked the girl and she had shared her leader's love for sweet little Annie. How she wished she could help them, but Joanne had insisted on submitting herself to all this and loyalty seemed to demand that she went along with it. It was all very confusing and this only added to her anger at Angela.

"Spoilt little rich girl indeed!" she fumed to herself. She had seen things in her childhood that would make Angela's hair curl! Her father had been a big wheel in the Government, in charge of the prison system for a while and he had made sure his daughter knew what happened to enemies of the State by taking her around an interrogation centre more than once. She had early on known what it was to have the screams of the tortured ringing in her ears.

And how dare Angela call her spoilt. It was no freak of nature that Francesca had withstood her recent beating so well, since her stern father had always been very free and easy when it came to chastising his rebellious daughter. It had been like being back at home as Angela's whip had hissed through the air on its journey to her back. Well - her father hadn't broken her and nor would this repulsive Angela whom she loathed more deeply every day. There must be something better in the world than a stark choice between her past and this set-up!

She knew Joanne had done a terrible thing, although her weakness after her beating by the Inspectors had had a lot to do with it and should have been taken into account in mitigation. She had mentioned this to Angela a couple of times but to no effect. "She was a leader, Moroni. Leaders must never be weak." was that inflexible lady's reply. She thought of explaining that it hadn't been that sort of rigid organisation, just three friends together with one who took most decisions, and then she remembered that Joanne had been a keen disciplinarian herself.

Another thought came to her. What if Angela refused to yield back the command when Joanne was freed! Quite a few of the girls were already talking as if the whipped and disgraced captive were already history and acclimatising themselves to Angela's harsher regime. It had been a mistake of the leader to put herself in Angela's hands like that. She knew why she had done it and fully appreciated the inner torment and corrosive guilt that had driven her to exchange mental for physical pain. But where did that leave her and Annie? Annie had accepted Joanne's consignment of her to the cage with a little fear, but no complaint. And because of Joanne's self indulgent guilt trip the poor little thing had been given a penalty more than three times as severe. As for Jo - would they ever see her back with them again? Fran doubted it, somehow, not sharing Annie's faith.

She continued walking, noticing subconsciously how hard her feet were getting after a sore start to this life of nakedness. There were many sharp stones where she was walking, but she hardly felt a thing.

She realised that she was in a part of the island she had never visited before and made her way up the hill in front of her and found herself looking down on to the beach a little below where the helicopter stood. Well, well! This was a way to get off the island any time she felt like it, bypassing the by now well trodden path between the two sites! Now that Angela knew that Francesca could pilot the craft, she was mightily impressed once her anger at her concealment had worn itself out on her back.

ANGELA

Angela was unable to decide on whether to authorise Francesca's daring plan to refuel the chopper. She had almost concluded that she would have to ask Joanne when she came to be freed. She had already begun to toy with the idea of keeping the top job herself, while relying on the more resourceful and intelligent former leader for advice.

A few of the other girls were already beginning to assume that this would happen, although she knew that Josephine, Francesca and Annie were loyal - as almost certainly were Frieda and a couple of others. Then her sense of honour would kick in. She knew deep down that she simply didn't have the imagination to lead the group. She was brave under fire and heroic under torture, but she needed to be led. Already the strain of having to make decisions was showing up her deficiencies. So Francesca's fears might ultimately prove to be groundless.