© The National Gallery, London |
Jacqueline's story
I'm lying back in my chair and Jane is combing my hair. It feels so good. My long plaits are untied and gently smoothed out. It feels as if all the worries tangled up inside my head are untied and smoothed too. I wish I could stay like this forever, I wish Jane would stay with me, I don't want to go to bed. I will lie awake, curled up tensely behind the rich, dark draperies of my bed, wondering what papa is plotting behind my back. My long hair tangles and I toss and turn and my worries start knotting and pulling and stop me sleeping. What am I going to do, how am I ever going to escape?
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