Chapter 3 The Manor House
Once again I found myself waiting at a bus stop. This time I hung outside Aunt Libby`s apartment in the drizzling rain anticipating the arrival of the number seven. I paced back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for it to turn down my aunt`s street.
I had to admit I wasn`t overly excited to be boarding another bus, having just ridden one for several hours, but it beat borrowing Aunt Libby`s bike and cycling across town in the rain. It was imperative that I reach the manor house before sunset, otherwise Alexander might be out for the evening and my surprise reunion would be delayed.
Finally I saw a bus lumbering around the corner and almost cheered when I saw it displayed a yellow seven digitally. I shoved my money in the change receptacle and quickly grabbed the cold aluminum pole. Though the bus was half empty and many seats were vacant, I chose to stand for the duration of the ride. Having missed the Lennox Hill stop the last time, I refused to have anyone or anything blocking my view and further delay reaching Alexander. My heart beat faster with every stop and acceleration. I thought I`d caught a break since there weren`t that many passengers on the bus, but twice as many were waiting to board the number seven at the next stop. After what felt like the span of summer break itself, I spotted Lennox Hill Road. I remembered that to notify the driver of my desire to disembark, I needed to pull on the white wire that ran above the windows. I repeatedly tugged on the cord like I was signaling an SOS.
I heard you! the driver shouted back.
The rain had ceased. I hurried up Lennox Hill Road, scurrying through puddles and jumping over slimy but cool earthworms.
Rain-soaked estates lined the street. The pristine grass lawns were drenched and several branches and leaves were scattered in the asphalt driveways.
Then, at the end of the cul-de-sac, plain as a stormy day, sat the monstrous manor house. The gruesome estate appeared to be even more overgrown and unkempt than the last time I`d visited it.
Steam seeped into the air, creating a spooky fog around the palatial home. Moss and wild vines overtook the house like a giant spiderweb. Stone gargoyles sitting upon the jagged wrought-iron gates seemed to smile at me as I approached. Sticking in the half-dead, weed-filled lawn was a Happy Homes sign. I hurried past the broken birdbath and up the cracked rock path. My heart pounded as I reached the familiar arched wooden front door.
The dragon-shaped knocker that had fallen into my hand upon my first visit had not been replaced. Perhaps it was still hidden in the untamed bushes where I`d tossed it.
I knocked on the door.
I waited. And waited.
Jameson didn`t respond. I pounded my hand against the door again. Still no response. Not even a torn curtain rustled.
I turned the rusty doorknob and pushed against the door, but it was bolted shut.
I raced through the soggy grass, past the servants` door to the back of the house. I darted up the few cracked cement stairs and eyed the back wooden arched door. There wasn`t a bell to ring or a knocker to knock. I pounded my hand on the door. When no one answered, I looked around for another door.
I was becoming concerned that it wasn`t Alexander and Jameson who had rented the place after all. There were no signs of my boyfriend or his butler`s presence. I peeked in a basement window and it appeared to be in the same vacant state. I spotted the tree I had once climbed to see into Alexander`s room. I might have been able to confirm once again that he was inside, but climbing the rain-soaked tree was not a viable option.
I peered around the backyard to see if I saw Jameson`s Mercedes. The cracked asphalt drive was vacant of cars. I saw a concrete bench and a wrought-iron arched trellis overrun with creeping vines. A circular rock bed where a pond must have once been was now filled with rainwater. I spotted a decaying one-car detached garage that appeared as though it might collapse with a gentle nudge. I headed straight for it. My heart raced as I darted toward the garage. I noticed a lock on the door. It was brand-new.
Though I was an expert at sneak-ins, I was lousy at picking locks. I`d need the help of Billy Boy`s nerd-mate gadget whiz, Henry, but he was obviously miles away. The dilapidated garage was sturdier than it looked. With all my strength, I couldn`t move any of the paint- chipped wooden boards.
I examined the outside of the garage. There wasn`t a window on any side. I did notice a skinny crack between two boards about hip height from the ground on one side. Light from the setting sun illuminated the skinny space. With my best vision, I could barely make out a white sheet covering what must have been an old bike or lawn mower. And next to it, something sparkling in the light. On further inspection I noticed a Mercedes hood ornament.
I raced back to the manor house. I placed a discarded box underneath the kitchen window and stepped on it. I teetered on tiptoe, doing my best to see inside. The window was dusty, so it was almost impossible to see indoors. I tapped the glass pane relentlessly and peered through a hole the size of a quarter.
Suddenly a bulging eyeball gazed back at me.
Startled, I screamed and fell off the box, back onto my bottom in the wet grass.
I heard the sound of locks being unlocked and the door being opened.
I froze. What if I`d been wrong when I`d spotted a Mercedes ornament that I was so certain had belonged to Jameson? I was so excited to see it, I hadn`t even considered my discovery. The stored car could have been any make or model, or white for all I knew. At any moment I would be caught trespassing, thrown in Hipsterville`s juvie jail, or forced to return to Dullsville.
I bit my black lip and held my breath.
Then, at the screen door, Jameson appeared.
Alexander`s butler struggled to see me through the glare of the mesh door.
Jameson, it`s me, Raven.
Miss Raven? he asked, confused. He opened the door. It can`t be you. What are you doing here? In the backyard?
I jumped to my feet, dusted off my miniskirt, and raced up the uneven steps toward the Creepy Man. Jameson wrinkled his pale forehead.