Chapter 2

Part of me had always been hidden. The part Mum and Dad referred to as my wild nature. I mentioned it earlier. Generally, I was a good daughter but occasionally that instinct would flair within me.

It was that wild, insatiable drive that caused me to approach the manor the next day, Saturday. The house was set in the centre of a wood, with a winding road leading up to it. I rode my bike slowly through the dense forest. The past twisted treacherously and I had no desire to crash. The best way to describe that path is with a quote from Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.

Nature had come into her own again and, little by little, in her stealthy, insidious way had encroached upon the drive with long, tenacious fingers.

Eventually I reached the gate that opened onto beautiful gardens, a circular driveway and there, ahead of me was the manor. I climbed off my bike and went to the gate. There was an intercom button and I pressed it, clutching the newspaper in my other hand. After a few moments a man's voice, rough and harsh, crackled through the speaker.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here about the job advertisement." A moment's pause and then the speaker crackled into life again.

"Fine."

The gates began to swing open. I climbed hastily back onto my bike, jammed my helmet on and drove through. The circular drive led me round to the front door. The house would have been beautiful if it hadn't been so cold. It was a shell of a house, hollow and unused. I took the keys from the bike and tucked them safely into my leather jacket. Then I pressed the doorbell.

It took a minute for the man to answer the door. It opened with a creak. I peered into the darkness until he snapped,

"If you're going to come in, do so." I hastily stepped through, closing the door behind me. I turned and froze as I saw the owner of the voice.

He was tall and dressed entirely in black. Apart from the mask. It covered the left side of his face and was pure white. The rest of his face was just visible in the meager light and from what I could see he was extremely good-looking. Intense, turquoise eyes, black hair that was slicked down to his skull. I shook myself and forced myself to speak.

"I'm… my name is Christine Daae. I'm here about the job." He eyed me for a moment and then turned away.

"I cannot help you."

"Hey! Wait!" I burst out, darting after him. He stopped as I touched his arm.

"At least give me a reason! I'm qualified for this job and I'm not leaving until you hear me out."

He looked at me plainly. If that wild instinct hadn't possessed me I would have quailed under that gaze. But I pressed on.

"Sir, I need this job. I am available at the required times and I'm capable of taking care of things. And to be brutally honest I can't imagine you've had many other offers."

For a moment he looked furious. And then he opened a nearby door.

"In." He ordered. It was a beautiful writing room. He sat at a desk and I stood awkwardly, clutching my helmet. He surveyed me thoughtfully.

"Name?"

"Christine Daae."

"You live in the town?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Family?"

"Just my father and I. My mother died last year."

"How?"

"Cancer. It was cancer."

I was surprised. Most people started acting sympathetically when I mentioned my mother. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn't tiptoe around the subject. He wrote something down and then looked at me.

"Miss Daae, you have the job. Weekends are from 8 am onwards."

"Til when?"

"Until you finish your work. Evenings are from 7:30 onwards, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I only use a few rooms in the house so those are the only ones you will need to clean. Occasionally you will have to do an unused one. Cooking is mostly evening meals, but will include lunch at the weekend. I will give you shopping information and money when I need you to go into town. You have transport?"

"Yes, a motorbike."

"Fine. This is the weekly pay amount. I assume it will suffice." He handed me a slip of paper with a figure written on it. I gaped at the amount.

"That much? Really?"

"If it's too much, I can lower it." He said sharply. I shook my head.

"No. No, that's great. When can I start?"

"I'll show you where everything is and you can start now." He said, getting to his feet.

"Wait!" I said. He paused.

"Yes?"

"I… I don't know your name." I said, flushing slightly. He realized he hadn't actually introduced himself and said,

"My name is Erik Lavonne."

When you entered the front door you were greeted with an enormous entrance hall, a wide fleet of stairs leading to the upper floors, and doors going off in all directions. He led me to a door and down some stairs.

"This is the kitchen. Cleaning supplies are in that cupboard. That door leads into the gardens." Back upstairs and he pointed at other doors.

"Living room, library, writing room, dining room. Those are the only ones you will need to go in. That's the ballroom but I don't use it and there are bedrooms upstairs. You will have no need to go upstairs."

Within an hour I had equipped myself with a vacuum cleaner, mop, bucket, broom, spray and cloth. I started in the kitchen. It was far from pristine and looked like something out of the 15th century. Stone floors and everything. At least the oven was reasonably modern. It took me ages but finally it was clean and I was aware of where everything was. Then I moved upstairs and into the library.

Now, I love books. And I had never seen so many in my entire life. It was absolute heaven. I would have loved to sit down and read my way through novel after novel. After gaping at them I took a cloth and started to wipe the surface free of dust. They weren't too bad, showing the regular use of the room. The windows were in less than great condition. It took me nearly an hour to wipe the grime from them. But I kept telling myself, if you get this done now the cleaning will be easier next time. The difference was phenomenal once I'd finished.

The other rooms weren't so much of a problem. I noticed a door and couldn't remember whether or not Mr Lavonne had told me to clean in there or not. I pushed open the door and stared.

The room was pure white and in the centre of the room sat a gorgeous piano. The room was plunged into darkness because of the thick drapes over the windows. I pulled them back and sunlight flooded the room. The white walls shone cleanly. This was the only room in the whole house that was already clean.

I went to the piano. It was truly beautiful, the best I had ever seen. I had prided myself with my musical talents. I used to sing. Not anymore. Not since Mum… well. That piano brought back a flood of memories. There was a piece of sheet music on the piano and a pencil lying on the floor next to the stool, as if it had been flung down there angrily. I picked it up and looked at the score. It was called Think of Me.

At the end, the notes had been scrawled out, as if the correct melody could not be thought out. I pressed the keys on the last line, listening to the tune. Then I bent down and wrote in a few notes. I played the tune again and it seemed to fit perfectly. I smiled satisfactorily and picked up my things, leaving the room. As I did so, I bumped into Mr Lavonne.

"What are you doing in there?" He asked dangerously.

"I got lost. I wasn't sure if it was the dining room or not." I explained. He pointed me to a different door and I thanked him, heading towards the door. He went into the room. Curiously, I bent down and looked through the keyhole. He had sat down at the piano and had picked up the pencil. Then he stopped and looked at the music. His hand strayed to the keys and played the sweet melody. I couldn't see his expression because his mask was facing me. But he stopped playing and glanced towards the door, a strange look on his face.

I hurried to the dining room and started to clean, the look on his face imprinted in my mind.