Lightning Strikes

by V. C. Andrews

  As soon as I did, he looked up at me.

  "I'm glad my sister-in-law had the good sense to choose a school in England for you over anything the colonies has to offer," he declared.

  "Colonies?"

  Sir Dudley chuckled. It sounded more like a cough.

  "Pay no attention to him, Rain," Great-aunt Leonora said. "My husband thinks he is living in the past. He is still getting over the American

  Revolution!'

  "The world would have been much better off had there been none," he said. Everything he said seemed to be like some royal declaration. His voice was deep, his pronunciation so correct and sharp, you couldn't help but listen. "Your people certainly would have fared better," he added.

  "My people?"

  "Don't go on so the first time you've met her, Richard. You'll frighten the poor thing. She's just arrived."

  "Here, here," Sir Dudley muttered.

  Lady Dudley's eyes bored holes in me, but my Great-uncle Richard's gaze softened suddenly, his lips finally relaxing into almost a smile, his eyes taking on a more distant look. He was gazing directly at me, but I felt he was looking past me, focusing on some memory.

  Then, he blinked and I could almost feel the click in his brain, the change in the direction of his thoughts. It was as if he woke up and realized I was still standing there. His gaze changed, his eyes drinking me in, moving from my head to my toes.

  "Of course," he said. "I'm sorry. I welcome you to Endfield House and I hope your experience here and at the school will be enjoyable and beneficial."

  "Here, here," Sir Dudley chanted. I wondered if he could think of anything else to say.

  His wife turned to my great-aunt and asked her about the charity event to take place in Kensington Gardens. The subject of me was not very interesting to her any longer. I glanced once more at Great-uncle Richard who still had his gaze locked on my face, offered him a smile, and returned to the kitchen. I didn't realize until I entered it that I had been holding my breath the whole time. I blew out the air and took a deep breath.

  "Well, well, she's made it through the first course," Mrs. Chester said with a chuckle.

  When it was time,. Mary Margaret and I returned to the dining room to clear dishes and serve the afters. Sir Dudley wanted coffee, but everyone else had tea, and I remembered Great-uncle Richard was a mif. He looked impressed when I poured his milk in first and again made me nervous with his long, deep looks.

  After we cleared the table and helped Mrs. Chester with the washing up, I was almost too tired to eat dinner. Despite Mrs. Chester's sarcastic ways, I couldn't deny she was a very good cook. We ate in the kitchen. While we ate, I heard the piano and looked at Mary Margaret.

  "Who plays?" I asked her.

  "Mrs. Endfield," she replied, looking up quickly at Mrs. Chester to see if she had done something wrong by telling me. Why was talking about anyone in this house so forbidden? I wondered.

  Mary Margaret said she would take care of our dishes. She knew how tired I was. I thanked her and headed for my room.

  I was so tired, I barely had the strength to get undressed and into my nightgown. While I was brushing my teeth, I heard footsteps in the hallway and imagined it was Mary Margaret. I could still hear my great-aunt playing the piano. I returned to my room and closed the door. However, as soon as I lay down and closed my eyes, I thought about Boggs shattering my sleep with his broomstick and panicked. I had no alarm clock. I would surely oversleep. have to ask Mary Margaret to wake me when she gets up, I thought. I slipped into my robe and peered down the corridor. Where did Mary Margaret sleep?

  Great-aunt Leonora was still playing the piano. The hallway light was dim and the shadows deep and long. I walked past the bathroom, deeper into the servants' quarters. The music followed behind me. Just as I reached the first doorway, Boggs

  materialized in the dark portal. He was in an undershirt and his pants.

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "I was looking for Mary Margaret. I wanted to ask her to wake me because I have no clock in my room," I explained quickly. In the gloomy dimness his eyes were slick as oil. He frightened me with his stone face and unsympathetic voice.

  "Don't worry about it. I'll rap on your door," he said.

  "I'd rather have Mary Margaret do it," I said. "Where is she?" I looked toward the end of the corridor. I couldn't see any other rooms.

  "She doesn't sleep 'ere," he said. "She lives with 'er mother. I'll wake you. Have no fear of that," he said. His face was all in shadows.

  "What about Leo?" I asked. Anyone but you, I thought. " 'e lives above the garage. I thought you was tired from your trip," he added.

  "I am."

  "Then go to sleep," he ordered. He stepped back and closed the door.

  I stood there for a moment in the narrow corridor. It was just Boggs and me here? I shared the bathroom with him? It gave me a sick feeling in the base of my stomach to think he was so close. I returned to my room and closed my door. Tomorrow, I'll buy a clock, I thought, and then I'll ask Great-aunt Leonora to have a lock put on my bedroom door.

  I crawled under the blanket and rested my head on the hard pillow. The night air helped diminish the strong smell of mothballs, but it was still there along with a rancid odor that reminded me of some apartments back in the projects in Washington, D.C. The piano music stopped and was soon replaced with the creaks and groans throughout the big house.

  I didn't fall asleep so much as I passed out. It was as if I was still traveling, being swept along by planes and cars until I was spiraling downward through my jumbled thoughts, falling into a well of memories that ran into each other, confusing faces and voices. Mama was reaching down, trying to take hold of me and stop my descent, but she was always just a few inches too far away. There was Roy calling after me, my name echoing around me. I passed Beni who just smiled and did a little dance before evaporating. Grandmother Hudson flashed on the wall of my dream for a moment, her eyes full of worry. I was losing sight of everyone I loved, hurtling deeper and deeper toward the light until I burst out into the center of a blazing fire and woke to the soft sound of my door closing.

  My heart was pounding. I sat up. It was hard to see in the darkness. I was frightened by a silhouette but quickly realized that it was just the wardrobe. No one was in my room, but had someone been here? I listened hard for sounds from the corridor and heard none. Then I let my head drop to the pillow.

  I'm so tired, I thought.

  I'm so tired.

  Even too tired to care about ghosts.

  3

  The New Girl, Again.

  .

  Boggs rapped so hard on my door the next

  morning, I thought it would splinter. There's a man who would enjoy pulling wings off flies, I thought. "Are ya awake?" he growled from the hallway.

  "Yes, yes!" I screamed back. Mama would say he could turn a graveyard into a crowd of Lazaruses.

  "Get to the kitchen," he commanded and walked away.

  "Yes sir," I called back and saluted. Then I groaned. It wasn't only jet lag now. I must have been doing flips in my sleep, I thought. It seemed like every muscle in my body ached and the blanket was twisted around my legs. Outside my little window, I could see it was gray and overcast and the air was much cooler than I had expected. It brought another delightful realization. There was nothing to provide any heat for this room, not a radiator, not even an electric heater. That fact was brought home dramatically when I put my bare feet on the wooden floor. It felt as if I had stepped into an icy cold puddle. I scurried to locate my slippers and get into something warmer than my nightgown. I would have appreciated the time to take a shower, but there wasn't any shower or any time. I'd have to take a bath but looking at my watch, I saw I had only fifteen minutes to get myself to the kitchen to help prepare and serve breakfast.

  After putting on my panties and bra, I checked the hallway, saw it was clear, and, carrying my clothes in my arms, hurried to the bathroom where I would
at least wash myself. Why wasn't I surprised to discover we had no hot water? The faucet ran and ran and the water didn't warm at all. I had no choice but to scrub up quickly, shivering as I put on my blouse and skirt. The only benefit to having to pin up my hair was I didn't have to spend any time on it, but boy did it need to be washed, I thought.

  The house was very quiet. I heard a pan clank in the kitchen and entered to see Mary Margaret filling a teapot with hot water. She glanced at me, but didn't take her eyes from her work as if brewing a cup of tea for my great-uncle was similar to heart surgery. She started out of the kitchen, yet to say good morning to me.

  "Don't forget, milk in first," I muttered. She glanced at me with astonishment, saw the smile on my face, and widened her eyes. Didn't anyone ever joke here?

  "So yer up and about," Mrs. Chester declared, coming in from the pantry. "That's a surprise. I'm sure Mr. Boggs had somethin' ta do with it, eh dearie?"

  "As a matter of fact, he did. He slept under my bed," I said and she cackled. "What is that?" I asked, looking at what she was preparing for breakfast.

  "Black puddin'," she said. When I continued to squint, she added, "spiced blood sausage."

  "Ugh," I muttered. She tilted her head.

  "Mr. Endfield enjoys a full English breakfast on Tuesdays, thank you. We'll be serving fried eggs, fried tomatoes, and toast and marmalade as well. Slice up them tomatoes. You can do that without cuttin' yer fingers, can't ya?"

  "Of course," I said and began. I noticed she watched me out of the corner of her eyes.

  "Ya handle that knife right well," she commented.

  "I cooked a lot for my family."

  She nodded. I gazed at the marmalade.

  "Go on. Ya can taste it," she said and I did. She laughed at the face I made. "It's made from bitter oranges. Mr. Endfield's right fond of that."

  "Does anyone eat cold cereal?" I asked.

  "Cold cereal?" She thought a moment. "Mr. Endfield eats porridge every Thursday, but not cold."

  "Every Thursday? Is everything organized by the day here, even what they eat?"

  "That it is," she said.

  Mary Margaret returned. Mrs. Chester looked at her a moment, getting some message from the expression on her face, and then she nodded toward the dining room.

  "Set the breakfast table," she commanded.

  I didn't think Great-aunt Leonora would get up this early in the morning, but from the way she rattled on cataloguing a stream of responsibilities after she came down for breakfast, I realized she was just as busy with her charities and social organizations as her husband was with his law firm. She was very well put together, too, with her hair brushed, combed and sprayed. She wore a light-blue cotton suit with a silk blouse.

  My great-uncle had his nose in the London Times during breakfast, coming up for air only to make a comment about something he had just read. I noticed my Great-aunt Leonora simply smiled after everything he said and either muttered a long "Oooh" or just nodded. Finally, he folded his paper and turned to me as I was helping Mary Margaret clear the table.

  "Do you know how to get yourself to the drama school?" he asked.

  I glanced nervously at Great-aunt Leonora. Should I tell the truth?

  "Of course she doesn't, dear," she replied for me.

  "I suspected so. I can't spare Boggs this morning.

  You'll have to navigate for yourself," he declared. I wasn't very disappointed about that.

  He slipped his hand into his inside jacket pocket and produced a small pad. "Pay attention," he ordered and I stepped closer to the table. Mary Margaret glanced at me and hurried into the kitchen as if what he was about to say was prohibited from entering her ears.

  "Though London was for more than a century the most populous city on earth, it was also always a collection of villages," he began. "Each village used to have a unique quality unto itself and some still do."

  When he spoke, he didn't look directly at me. He talked down at the table as if he was a professor in a classroom starting a lesson.

  "For example," he continued, "the government is focused around Whitehall, with power derived from parliament in Westminster, incomplete without the Queen of course, whose royal and public life is still centered round St. James's Park."

  He looked up at me.

  "You understand so far?"

  "Yes," I said even though I didn't know what this had to do with describing how to get to the school. Was it a requirement to know English history before you could travel through the city?

  "Good. The best way for you to get around is to take the Underground system. We call it the tube. All the stations are clearly marked with this symbol," he said, drawing, "the circular London Transport symbol, You'd best buy a monthly travel card."

  "Oh, I have to change my money into pounds," I said in a small panic.

  He looked up at Great-aunt Lenora sharply.

  "That hasn't been done yet, Leonora?"

  "Of course not, dear. She just arrived

  yesterday."

  "Well, why didn't you take her directly to our bank and have it done?"

  "I just thought settling her in, having Boggs explain her duties was more important. There wasn't time." She shook her head.

  "I have to be in charge of every little thing these days," he muttered.

  He reached into his inside pocket again, produced a wallet, and extracted a bill.

  "This is a tenner," he said holding it up and waving it in front of me, "a ten-pound note. You know the difference between English and American money?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Good. This will do you for today, but you'll have to see to your needs immediately. London is divided into a number of zones. A travel card must be valid for all the zones through which you wish to travel. The cost of the ticket depends on the number of zones you want to travel though, understand?"

  He was speaking too fast and it didn't make sense to me. "You can't just buy one ticket?"

  "Yes, of course, but it will depend on where you want to go?"

  "But I don't know that yet," I moaned.

  He shook his head.

  "This isn't difficult. Children manage it on their own."

  "Well, it's not this way in the States," I protested.

  "The states' he muttered, "don't have half as good a system of public transport as we do. You'll see that for yourself in short order. When you get to the station today, the clerk will help you. Here;' he said, jotting on his notepad, "is your itinerary.

  "After you get to the station, you'll go to Notting Hill Gate and change to the Circle Line which will take you to Sloane Square, where your school is located. It's near the Royal Court Theatre. It shouldn't be very difficult, even for an American, I imagine."

  He handed me the slip of paper and the tenpound note. "Thank you," I said.

  "You'll go out front, make a right turn and go two streets west to the station."

  "Isn't this exciting for you?" Great-aunt Leonora cried clapping her hands together.

  "I'll let you know when I come back;' I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my great-uncle's eyes brighten with a smile.

  "It's nowhere near as hard as it sounds now," he said, "and unlike people in the states, people here will be friendly and helpful. Still, mind whom you stop to speak with and don't take any side trips for a while," he advised. He folded his paper and rose, gazing down the table at Great-aunt Leonora as if she was at the other side of a long tunnel. "See to this money problem as soon as possible, Leonora."

  "I shall, dear," she said.

  "Well, have a good day," he added and left.

  I told my Great-aunt Leonora about the certified bank check I had and she told me she would take care of it all personally.

  "Now that Richard has turned it into a royal crisis," she added.

  I helped Mary Margaret finish clearing the table. Then we had our breakfast and I went back to my hole in the wall to fix my hair and put on a little lipstick. Before I left I gave G
reat-aunt Leonora the check Grandmother Hudson had given me. She gazed at it, her eyes widening and her eyebrows lifting.

  "This is a lot of spending money to give someone," she commented. "I never knew my sister to be so generous. I'm sure Victoria knows nothing about it," she added thoughtfully. Then she shook her head as if she was shaking off a bad thought and smiled. "Not to say you won't be needing it. London is an expensive place. I'll see to it that you start with a few hundred pounds. Have a good day, dear," she added.

  With my heart bonging like that grandfather's clock in the drawing room, I left the house and began my journey to my new school.

  My first mistake happened only a block from Endfield House. I was concentrating on all the things Great-uncle Richard had told me and I stepped off the curb, forgetting that the English drive their cars on the opposite side. When I looked to my left, I thought I was safe. Next thing I heard was a squeal of brakes and the sight of an enraged driver. I jumped back to the sidewalk, my heart pounding.

  "Mind the traffic light," the driver screamed with wild eyes stretched into his temples as he drove past.

  I closed my eyes, sucked in my breath and started across the street when it was sate. The sky was still quite gray and I noticed that just about every pedestrian was carrying an umbrella. I didn't have one and no one at the house had offered one to me before I left. The first drops began just before I reached the station. I couldn't run across the street because of the traffic, so I had to wait even though I was getting drenched. Finally, I charged into the station and shook myself. My blouse was soaked. What a horrible beginning.

  People pushed by me, rushing to and fro. I didn't think it looked all that much different from the subway stations in the States. There was even someone playing a saxophone in front of a can set out for coins. The station clerk was helpful, however, and moments later, I was waiting alongside everyone else for my train. I heard an announcement every minute or so telling everyone to "Mind the gap." I couldn't imagine what that meant until the train pulled up and I saw there was a gap between it and the platform.

  "Mind the gap," I muttered to myself with a laugh and got aboard my first subway train in London. I studied the map and watched for the stations Greatuncle Richard had written out for me. Not long after, I emerged and found myself searching for the school in a slow, steady drizzle. I panicked, thinking I had gone the wrong way, and stopped to catch my breath in a storefront. My damp clothes were sticking to my body. What an embarrassing way to present myself the first day, I thought, and wondered if I shouldn't just turn around and go back to Endfield Place.