Three days had passed, and I still hadn't managed to speak with Charles, even though I searched for him everywhere I went. I had to talk to him, but Mrs. Cox didn't make it easy—she constantly dumped new tasks on me. I think she hated me from the very first moment, though to be fair, I felt exactly the same about her.
Right now, I was supposed to scrub the area behind the front door. For that, I'd been given a tiny brush—barely the size of my palm—and a bucket of soapy water. At first, I attacked the task with enthusiasm, but I soon realized that it was impossible to remove the years-old stains from the stone floor. My knees hurt so badly from kneeling that I switched to a squatting position, though that didn't help either.
