Chapter 3
I finished at about three that afternoon. I went to the writing room and found Mr Lavonne there.
"I've finished the cleaning. Do you need anything else?"
"I have some shopping for you to pick up, and then you may leave. Bring the shopping with you tomorrow."
He handed me a list and a piece of paper with the number 5621 written on it as well as a key for the front door.
"What's this?" I said, looking at the slip of paper.
"It's the code for the gate. I am too busy to come running every time you arrive." He said sharply. I pulled a face at the back of his head and turned to leave. But as I was going he said,
"Miss Daae?"
"Yes?"
"Do you play the piano?"
"I used to. I don't play any music anymore." I said sadly. And then I left.
Raoul was waiting for me at home when I came through the door holding bags of food.
"How did it go?"
"I've got the job." I grinned. Raoul hugged me.
"That's great, Christine! So, what's the owner like?"
"Geez, Raoul, you're such a gossip!" I laughed. I started to put food into the refrigerator. Raoul raised an eyebrow.
"That's a lot of food for just two people."
"It's for Mr Lavonne, the owner. And, in answer to your question, he's… odd."
"Just odd?" Raoul asked, putting the kettle on. What a perfect boyfriend. He already knew that I wanted tea.
"Well, he dresses completely in black and wears a mask over half of his face."
"A mask? Why?" Raoul said.
"I didn't ask. He only just gave me a job. I think I'll wait until my second day to go prying into his secret business. Maybe he's just paranoid about the left side of his face." I said, closing the refrigerator door. Raoul laughed.
"So, what were you doing all this time? Just talking?"
"No, I was working. Cleaning mostly. He only uses about five rooms in the entire house, so those are the only ones I need to clean."
The back door opened and Meg came in. I smiled.
"Hello person who doesn't live here but still barges in uninvited."
"Hey Christine, Raoul. How did it go?" Meg said, apparently unconcerned.
"She got it and she's working for a lunatic." Raoul said frankly. "Tea?"
"Thanks. A lunatic?"
"He's not a lunatic, he's just a little weird." I said, giving Raoul a look. He put his hands up in surrender.
"OK, what normal person goes around with half of his face in a mask?"
"A mask? Really?"
"Yeah. I don't know why, don't ask me. Do you guys want some cake? I made some yesterday." I said, opening a tin and cutting some cake.
"What does the half without the mask look like?" Meg asked as we sat down with refreshments. I glanced at Raoul and then grinned.
"It was… OK."
"What does that mean?" Raoul asked. I laughed.
"OK, he's extremely gorgeous. But also ten years older than us and seriously scary."
"Gorgeous?" Raoul said, lifting an eyebrow. I giggled at him.
"Don't get paranoid. I'm not going to run off and live with him in his mansion. Actually… that sounds pretty good…"
"Still sitting here." Raoul pointed out. I kissed him.
"You have nothing to worry about. The job is fine, Mr Lavonne is, while a little weird, generally OK and the pay is great. The hours last as long as I make them so it's not a problem looking after Dad and it doesn't interfere with class, so we're all good."
We sat in silence and the Meg said,
"How gorgeous?"
"Very."
"Hey!" Raoul burst out. We both laughed at him. Dad came in, rubbing his eyes. I got up.
"Dad, did we wake you?"
"No, I was just getting up from a nap anyway. I take it you got the job?"
"I did. Here are your pills. Take one now and another a dinner."
"Yes sir!" He saluted me mockingly and sat down to take his pills and have a piece of cake. At five I asked Meg and Raoul to stay for dinner, which they both agreed to. Dad went to the fridge and frowned.
"Christine, how many people did you buy for?"
"Oh, that's for Mr Lavonne, my boss. I'll take them up to work tomorrow."
"Yes, you haven't told me where you're working yet." He said, looking at me. I bit my lip.
"Don't freak out."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"OK… I'm working at the Manor."
He stared at me.
"You got a job at the Manor?"
"Yes, but it's OK."
"What did you say his name was? Your boss?"
"Mr Lavonne. His first name was… it was Erik." I said, struggling to remember. Dad frowned.
"Erik Lavonne… it sounds familiar. Can't think why. Anyway, if you're sure it's safe."
"It is. When's your next appointment?" I asked, trying to steer him away from the subject.
"Monday. Don't look at me like that, I'm fine. What do you want for dinner? I'll cook for a change."
"You don't have to. We can cook. You go and relax." Raoul said. Dad shook his head, putting up a hand.
"No, I insist. I'll make my specialty."
"Spaghetti Bolognaise?" I asked
"Exactly."
"It's only his specialty because it's the only thing he can make." I told Meg and Raoul. Dad shooed us out of the kitchen, laughing.
I got to the Manor at 7:45, the food packed into a box which was strapped to my bike. I pressed the access code and the doors swung open. I let myself in and went downstairs with the box of food. Once I had put everything away I fetched the cleaning things. Mr Lavonne came downstairs as I came out of the kitchen.
"You're early." He said.
"I'm an early riser. The food is in the kitchen and here is the sheet music you wanted." I said, handing it to him. He nodded and headed for the writing room. He paused.
"I take lunch at 12:30 in the dining room. Dinner is at 8."
"No problem." I nodded.
"I'll have tea at ten, please. Milk, no sugar." He said curtly.
"Alright."
I decided to do the living room today. I'd done a quick run through all of the rooms yesterday but wanted to get each one clean. The living room was decorated in red and gold with mirrors on every wall, overlooking the gardens. I paused to admire the view and wondered briefly who took care of the gardens. I couldn't imagine Mr Lavonne doing it. I slipped my headphones on turned on the CD player that was clipped to my belt. I had picked up Norah Jones today and hummed along as I started to polish each surface. And there were a lot of surfaces. By the time I had done the surfaces to perfection and had vacuumed it was 9:45. I went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on, searching for the teabags and cups.
I also cut him a slice of cake. I'd brought some with me. I'd tried a new recipe and Raoul and Meg had liked it. I pushed my headphones down around my neck and took the refreshments upstairs. I knocked on the door.
"Come in." Mr Lavonne called. I went in. He was sat at the desk, poring over a piece of paper. I put the cup and plate down. He glanced at the cake.
"What's that?"
"Home made. Thought you might be hungry." I said. He stared at it and then nodded.
"Thank you."
"Do you have something you want for lunch?"
"Soup. Do whatever you want for dinner."
"OK." I said. There was an empty cup on the desk. I wondered what time he had gotten up. I picked it up and went to wash it before returning to the living room.
I polished the ornaments and cleaned the windows and mirrors. As I did I sang along quietly with Norah Jones.
My heart is drenched in wine
But you'll be on my mind
Forever
Have you noticed how music affects people? Some people can massacre it and make it become just noise. My Mum and Dad were both musicians. Dad was famous for his violin and Mum was a singer. She also played a variety of instruments, including piano. Piano was her favorite. One of my earliest memories is of sitting under the piano as she played it, pressing the pedals so the noise would change. I can remember she was singing. I don't know what song it was. Memories fade like that. They're too slippery.
It scares me sometimes. Mum has only been gone for a matter of months and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and find I can't even remember what she looked like, or how her voice sounded or how she moved. I ended up putting her picture on my bedside table. I haven't told Dad but I kept a bottle of her perfume in the drawer of the table. It was Mum who taught me to sing. She found me one day when I was about eight, sat at the piano, pressing keys and singing a song I'd heard on the radio. I can't remember what that song was either.
Anyway, she decided to teach me. She was a strict teacher. If I sang a single note wrong she would make me practice until I had it down perfectly. I learned piano and some violin, but singing was what I lived for. In school, I was in every choir and performed in every concert I could.
But when Mum died I stopped. Because every time I sang I imagined her face. But the main reason was Dad. Mum and I always looked so much alike. One day, not long after the funeral I was in the kitchen, singing one of the songs Mum had written when I heard Dad come in. To him, it must have been like Mum had come back from the dead, as if she had just gone out to the shops and had returned now. He had dropped the plate he was holding. The noise made me jump. I saw Dad on his knees in the doorway, sobbing like a child.
After that I didn't sing anymore. Not really. I mean, I would sing quietly to the radio or hum something occasionally. But nothing proper. It didn't seem right.
The end of the song snapped me back to reality from my musings. I blinked and realized I had finished polishing the mirror and stepped back. Cold, Cold Heart began to play. I moved onto the next mirror, spraying it with cleaner and rubbing it with the cloth, singing along to the music.
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold, cold heart?
Then I froze. In the reflection of the mirror I saw Erik Lavonne staring at me.