I felt moisture on my chest, then sobs and her breath clutching. We stood in the jungle as darkness was beginning to settle in, but we hugged, unaware of anything else but being mother and daughter. And I cried with her.We awoke the next morning to a light rain falling on us. It was morning but the sky was a dark grey, heavy with the clouds and rain. We would cuddled on the mat on the beach like normal. Our body heat keeping us warm. I hugged this marvelous girl to me. I stroked her with my hand, relishing the glow I felt that this girl was now my daughter. We both acknowledged it. We both accepted the inevitability of it. How could it be otherwise, kindred spirits somehow finding each other? I cuddled in tighter, not wanting this to end but feeling the light rain falling. I stroked her in part to keep her warm but in part to love her, to know her, wishing she was a little girl but so proud of the young woman she was. Then … my hand passing over her chest … how could I have missed. So far, I thought, so boring. But the mixed feelings he claimed to experience were intriguing. As the weeks passed, his sympathy for ‘Virginia’, his desire to protect her, his guilt at failing to do so (irrational but understandable), his rage against ‘Specimen Five’, his anger at the police for not identifying the rapist, gave way not only to frustration and incomprehension but also to a prurient fascination with the rape. Part of him empathised with ‘Specimen Five’, wanted to share the experience of forcing a woman; he wanted to know what it had been like for her moment by moment, to revel in her recollected sensations and emotions. The film implied that immediately before the end of their relationship he had forced himself on ‘Virginia’. “Well, why shouldn’t he?” I said. “He was her partner and she was refusing sex. And since she’d been raped once it couldn’t do her much harm to be forced by her own partner, could it?” “Do you think not?” said Mandy.Of course I was provoking.
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