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Chapter 9 –The Two Way Nature of Aquarium Glass
Charlotte, nee Charlie, was sitting on her blue teddy bear coverlet back in her bedroom. She had been told that due to her poor behaviour during today's class she was being denied playtime in the rumpus room. Unsure of what girlish delights had been planned for her there she was unsure if this was a good or a bad thing. There were certainly not going to be any basketballs or backboards to slam-dunk in any rumpus room planned and designed by Mr Campbell.
So after being unceremoniously dragged by the ear back to her room and given a book entitled "Manners of a lady" to read and report back on, Charlie sat on her bed crying. In the space of two days she had been stripped of her clothes, her home, her father and was being treated like someone's china doll. Dressed up in outlandishly girlish clothes, forced to walk without spilling books off her head and strapped for referring to herself as Charlie. She sobbed into her pillow, which she noted was also fringed with lace – was nothing sacred!
What frustrated her most of all was that beyond the classroom she hadn't been able to roam the penthouse at all. The strategy of reluctant acquiescence that she had resolved to follow this morning had backfired dreadfully in Mistress Heinz's classroom. Mistress Heinz refused to accept any transgression and now Charlie faced the prospect of incurring further punishment at Mr Campbell's hands. She doubted very much that the limited freedom she so desperately sought was likely to be given to her after today. Her hopes at being able to search for a likely escape route from this prison were temporarily squashed.
"The Master will be arriving home in twenty minutes, he expects you to be ready for dinner when he arrives. Miss Charlotte, you may want to fix your hair before he sees you, he can be rather finicky." Bosker the butler's voice disappeared as Charlotte dragged herself off the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Bosker was right; in her exertions during the day she had pulled her hair all askew, she pulled the ties out and started re-brushing her hair, afraid of incurring any further black spots.
Once finished she looked at herself in the mirror. Gone was the brash looking tom girl called Charlie, and staring straight back at her was a pigtailed little girl dressed in frilly socks, Mary Janes and a scarlet sailor suit. She stared into the mirror silently mouthing the words "You are Charlie, You are Charlie", over and over again until the bathroom door opened to reveal the maid.
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The swish of her crinoline underskirts heralded Charlie's arrival in the Dining room. Mr Campbell was already sitting at the table reading over some papers. He indicated that she should take her diminutive seat next to him. As she sat down in the small seat, he inquired after her day: "How was school today Charlotte?"
"I would rather not talk about that cow you've got training me. What use exactly is it to know how to walk up and down a room while balancing a book on your head? It's pointless and…"
"Enough! Mistress Heinz is revered as this cities greatest Tutor in protocol and deportment. You will do well to learn from her. I see here that she has listed you for five black spots, in addition to the one given to you by Bosker this morning."
"But-"
"No! There will be no backchat young lady. You were told the rules of this house last night and while you dwell here under my charge you will live by them or submit to the consequences. Now, let's have dinner before I discuss your punishment"
Seeing that arguing would get her nowhere Charlie stayed silent. Bosker entered the room bearing the evening's meal. For Mr Campbell, a succulent piece of tender veal schnitzel with a charming garden salad had been prepared. He accompanied the meal with a glass of dark red wine, presumably a sturdy Shiraz. As with the night before her meal was suitably different. A hard-boiled egg with the top cut off together with little soldiers (toasted bread cut into three strips for dipping in the yolk).
Sitting on her small chair in her ridiculous outfit she looked up at her captor seething with anger and frustration. What was she to do? Until she could establish otherwise, she assumed that every entrance and exit from the penthouse was secure and alarmed. So far she had seen no telephone to speak of, and worst of all even if she did escape (dressed as she was) the police would merely pick her up and bring her back here, as legally Mr Campbell remained her guardian until her father recovered. All these hurdles would have to be dealt with before she could attempt an escape.
And now the contrary voice re-emerged in her head. It argued that really, when you think about it, who would believe me even if I did escape? He dresses me up but beyond that, all he's given me is a single spanking, and if I'm honest with myself I deserved it. He's providing me with an expensive education and…
The alternating thoughts battled for supremacy inside her head. On one side Charlie railed against the frippery, the femineity being imposed on her, the recently emergent voice of Charlotte argued back that really Mr Campbell was just a nice man trying to look after her…
Bosker and the maid had efficiently removed the dinner plates. Mr Campbell was sitting back enjoying an aperitif and considering the scarlet clad Charlotte. His gaze ran up her body, from her shiny scarlet Mary Janes to the red bows in her hair. He shocked Charlie/Charlotte from her internal dialogue by asking the question "What am I to do with you my little Charlotte?"
"Pardon me?"
"Pardon me sir; surely even your rudimentary manners ought to tell you when to properly address your betters? I was asking you what am I to do with you. Six black spots. One might have earned you another spanking, perhaps bare-bottomed this time. But no, six black spots requires far more drastic action to convince you the error of your ways. Have you any suggestions?"
"No sir."
"Well let me think about it some. Do you like your outfit, I made it myself you know."
"It's fine." Charlotte responded, avoiding looking down at the scarlet sailor suit.
"Just fine, is that it?"
"Well, it's not really my style you know."
"Oh I think it is Charlotte. You look very striking in it. Very striking indeed."
He returned his attention to his brandy, wistfully looking out upon the city lights.
Internally conflicted she might be, but Charlie decided to try and find out some more about this disturbing tailor who had imprisoned her. Every piece of information she could gather might be useful.
"Mr Campbell, how long ago did you know my father?"
"Many years ago, before you were born actually. He was my manager when I worked for the firm, but despite our differences in age and seniority we became very close friends."
"What did you do at Daddies firm?"
"I worked on introducing new derivative products in currency futures markets. Those are financial products that help exporters and importers hedge their risks and reduce their foreign currency exposure. We were one of the first companies to really break into the market in a big way."
"So why did you leave, how come Dad hadn't seen you in such a long time?"
Mr Campbell furtively shifted his attention back to Charlie. Was he uncomfortable with her line of questioning?
"It's a long story Charlotte; the short of it is that it was only my college job. As soon as I'd finished college I came back here to take over the family business."
"But how can you afford all this" she waved her hand about, indicating that she referred to the well appointed penthouse, "surely your little tailor shop isn't this successful?"
"Nosey little thing tonight aren't you? No, Thompson and Campbell's isn't my sole source of income. I still dabble in the markets, somewhat successfully I might add. But my great love is tailoring, there's nothing as rewarding as taking a piece of cloth and moulding it to your design.
"They say that 'clothes make the man', and I believe it with all my heart. You can take a homeless bum and dress him in one of my suits and he wouldn't be out of place in the finest restaurant uptown. I could retire tomorrow but…" He let the thought hang in the air, Charlie decided to change tack.
"Did you ever know my mother?"
"Yes, a fine woman. She would be proud to see you now."
"What was she like? I don't remember her at all."
"Enough questions for one night, I have made up my mind." He turned to the doorway that presumably led to the kitchens.
"Bosker!" The butler appeared in the doorway at Mr Campbell's beck and call.
"Mr Campbell, Sir?"
"I think tomorrow young Charlotte should be introduced to the punishment undergarments. Perhaps that will convince her to begin complying with her lessons?"
"It will be arranged at once sir."
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