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Chapter 15 – The Chrysalis Cracks.
The maid led Charlie back down the corridor featuring her mothers painting and then back down the hallway containing the door to Charlie's bedroom, the classroom and the rumpus room. They took a turn just before the dining room and entered a spacious kitchen. A central kitchen block dominated the middle of the room. Benches, ovens and pantries surrounded the room. It was clearly a catering quality kitchen with almost every possible appliance and practical culinary utensil possible to imagine available.
Charlie had added the position of the kitchen to her mental floor plan of the apartment; sure that she could return here at will, so long as she was free to. The maid moved to one pantry opening it up to reveal a veritable bar.
Spirits, ports, desert wines and liqueurs of all varieties were neatly arranged in the cupboard. The maid fetched an elegant rectangular crystal decanter full of brandy from the top shelf and then shut the cupboard.
While she was fetching a glass from another cupboard, Charlie eagerly studied the room. 'Those drawers there, they might have matches in them, and if I get the chance the best place to look for a tin can is in the trash over there or under the sink here.' Her gaze flitted back and forth, taking in every possible detail – cataloguing the likely repositories for her mental shopping list. The maid, having taken a clean crystal brandy glass from another cupboard indicated that Charlie should take the two items and follow her back to Mr Campbell's room. Charlie, with a final look over her shoulder back into the kitchen, followed the maid back the way they had come.
As she approached the hallway displaying her mother's portrait the melody of a familiar ballad reached her ears.
"Nobody feels any pain;
Tonight as I stand inside the rain;"
The slightly off pitch but strangely compelling voice of Dylan came reverberating from Mr Campbell's room. He had turned up his stereo considerably since Charlie had left to fetch the brandy.
"Ev'rybody knows;
That Baby's got new clothes;
But lately I see her ribbons and her bows;
Have fallen from her curls."
She slowed as she walked further down the hall. The maid followed a few steps behind. Charlie could see the silhouette of Mr Campbell through the open door as he sat in his chesterfield chair, nursing the last of his brandy and crooning along with the song. The next lines sent a chill down Charlotte's spine as they adopted a brand new meaning on this dark and ominous night.
"She takes just like a woman, yes, she does;
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does;
And she aches just like a woman;
But she breaks just like a little girl."
The maid nudged her as she stood anxiously in the open doorway, "Go on in girl, I hope you enjoy tonight's… planned activities" Charlotte could have sworn that the maid had cheekily winked and grinned evilly at her as she departed.
The second verse began as Charlotte inched her way toward the chesterfield single seater. Mr Campbell noticed her entrance, but continued to sing along with Dylan's husky lyrics.
Charlotte, standing there with the decanter and fresh glass resolved that she should perform her function as servant for the evening. Placing the glass on the small mahogany table she poured a generous splash of neat brandy into the glass.
"Nobody has to guess;
That Baby can't be blessed;
Till she sees finally that she's like all the rest;"
Her new charm bracelet chimed against the crystal decanter and she replaced the stopper and then looked about wondering what to do next. Mr Campbell, still singing along, motioned that she should resume her seat on the carpet.
"But what's worse;
Is this pain in here;
I can't stay in here;
Ain't it clear that--
I just can't fit"
Charlotte lowered herself back onto the carpet between the stereo and the chair, consciously smoothing the skirts of her yellow pinny as she did so. Looking up she was disturbed to see that Mr Campbell was mouthing the words while staring straight at her as the song reached its finale:
"I was hungry and it was your world.
Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes, you do;
You make love just like a woman, yes, you do;
Then you ache just like a woman;
But you break just like a little girl."
The harmonica faded with the song as the turntable reached the end of the record. The automatic arm, sensing the end of the record, lifted itself back up and across into its cradle.
Silence filled the room – the air hung heavy with anticipation and fear.
"I have a delicate matter to discuss with you Charlotte. One that wasn't appropriate to resolve over dinner."
"Sir?" Charlotte quivered. The ballad's lyrics and the ardour with which Mr Campbell had followed them scared her. Until now she'd never really listened to the song, or its lyrics. But here in this room, with this strangely disturbing man, it had left her shivering with trepidation.
He lifted up the box that the maid had delivered to him earlier. He opened it, from her position sitting on the carpet Charlotte was unable to see what it contained.
"At first when Mistress Heinz reported this to me I was incredulous. It had to be a mistake, I would never have thought it of you." He spoke as a father deeply ashamed at the behaviour of a cherished child would.
'Thought what of me? What have I done? What's in the box?' These thoughts all started cascading through her head. The apprehension that the dark ballad had sparked began rushing toward all-out horror.
In the dimly lit room Mr Campbell continued as he considered the contents of the box and the handwritten note: "But with this evidence I can ignore this no longer… Charlotte?" He looked into her eyes with a stern inquisitorial gleam.
"Sir?" she squeaked, desperately dreading whatever 'evidence' he had. The use of the word 'evidence' also suggested that a crime had been committed. What had she done? What would he do to her? The final haunting lyrics of Bob Dylan chose this moment to echo through her mind: "But you break just like a little girl…"
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