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“There’s no mistake, Miss Primrose,” Carlson finishes. “I’ll leave you with Gloria now.” He bows and disappears, leaving me with the strange woman who has a kind-enough face. She wears a white hat on her head, and her black hair is pulled back. She has small, buck teeth, but they suit her, giving her red lips more of a pucker.
She opens another door with pink wallpaper. The soft glow of candlelight dances on the walls. “Your bath is ready, Miss Primrose,” she says.
I’m not sure what to do with myself. It feels strange following her, thanking her, and allowing her to scrub me. It feels even stranger thinking about sleeping in that bed. I’m a prisoner, not a guest. What is this madness?
“There’s no need to be afraid, ma’am.” She smiles.
My head rattles on my neck uncontrollably, and the room spins. “I don’t understand,” I repeat.
I’m certain that I’ll need to be admitted in the asylum until it becomes clear to me that this must be a dream. I’ve fallen asleep in the bottom of the cellar, finally, it seems. And I’ve entered a very realistic dreamworld. That’s the only sensible explanation.
“Ma’am,” she says again, looking at me as if I’m odd.
If it’s a dream, then I have nothing to fear. I follow her into the bathroom. A curved copper tub sits in the centre of the room. In the water, petals of different colours float, and it smells divine. The reason for the scent is sitting in tiny bottles on a small table next to the tub. On it, white towels are folded, next to a pitcher, bath sponges and brushes.
“Give me your clothes, ma’am. I’ll put them in the wash,” Gloria says.
Even in a dream, I can’t stand the formality. “Please, Gloria. Call me Olivia,” I say.
She nods. “Very well, then, Olivia.” She smiles before turning away, so I can undress.
Taking my time, I climb into the water, and it isn’t until the freezing temperature of it jolts me that I realize this is real. It’s not a dream. I shriek before hopping away from it as if it has burned me.
Gloria can’t contain her laughter. “Sorry, ma’am. The water got cold while we were waiting. I’ll set a pot of water on the fire to even it out for you.”
She must see that I’m shaking because instead of leaving, she walks over to me. I back away like an animal of prey.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Of course, you must be scared, you poor thing.”
“What’s going on?” I ask her. “Why was I taken from the cell to be put in here? What is the beast planning?”
“Come. Calm down,” she says.
“No! Tell me what this all means,” I respond.
“I don’t know, Miss Olivia. One moment, you’re in the cellar, and the next moment, you’re in here. I know as much as you do.” She shrugs.
“I don’t believe you. What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
“Only help you take a bath if you let me,” she says.
“I don’t need help taking a bath,” I bark.
She backs up. “No worries. But my advice is that you do what the boss says. If he says you should stay in this room, don’t go making trouble. You stay in this room until he tells you to leave, get it? You don’t want to make him mad. I’ll fetch the hot water.” She walks away.
“Don’t bother,” I mutter.
“But you’ll freeze, Olivia,” she whispers.
“I’ll manage,” I grunt.
She nods. “Very well. You’ll find a new nightdress hanging from the screen. Send for me if you need anything. Do your best to relax.” She smiles before leaving me alone.
Relax? How am I meant to relax? In thirty days, I learn whether I’m to be killed or kept alive. Whether I stay in a cell, or a bedroom fit for royalty won’t change that. But she’s right. I need to obey the beast’s orders to secure my father’s safety. So, if he wants me to stay in this room, then I have no choice. I suppose I should make the most of it. Besides, there are windows here. A means of escape if I need it.
I approach the tub, gritting my teeth before submerging my entire body into the cold water. The shock of it will keep me alert in case there are any more surprises. Pouring the pitcher of water through my hair, I shudder as it attacks my scalp. The pitcher isn’t enough to remove the cobwebs, however, so I submerge my head, wondering how long I can hold my breath and if it’s possible to drown oneself. But if I were to die before the beast commands it, it would harm my father’s chances since there’d be nothing for this arse of a man to hold over my father’s head.
I scrub at my skin, hating that the luxurious scents being embedded into my skin are from this scum. Hating to be in his tub. That he expects me to sleep in that bed. I scrub my skin, hurriedly and harshly until I’m red and raw when I stand up in the tub.
