So here goes. Novel Title: The Yanks of Wadenhoe House
Begin:
---We arrived late by cab. I felt like we were in a scary movie. This huge castle loomed in the night and the fog rolled along the ground all around us as we got out of the cab. Daddy, ever the practical joker, pointed at the carving above the entrance and said, “That is the ghost of Wadenhoe.” Mother told him to cut it out, but I had to pee too bad to be scared.
A maid opened the door and
welcomed us; showed us to our flat (English for apartment); told us what time
breakfast was served in the kitchen and left.
There were some white bread sandwiches
on the coffee table. They were butter
with cucumber and butter with ham; cut into fours with the crusts neatly
trimmed away; and neatly stacked on a beautiful old plate.
We devoured them all, and Mom put us
too bed. I could hardly sleep, and when
she left the room, I crept to the window to look out. As I look back, I know now why I liked that
shot in the first Harry Potter film so much. The one where he sits looking out
the frosted window of his new home high in the castle.
The next morning I was ready to go
before anyone and waiting impatiently at the door. We went down the rickety stairs to the better
stairs and found our way to the kitchen, where the maids were scurrying around
the long table delivering breakfast to our house mates.
At that time Wadenhoe House was
managed by Mrs. Boothroyd (Mrs. B) and with two exceptions, all the rooms and
suites were let out to Air Force families.
The exceptions were a two men, one from Scotland, one from Poland. They
were always referred to as Scot and the Pole – I never knew their names. The Scot, when in his cups, would change into
kilts and serenade the whole house with his bagpipes whether they liked it or
not. The Pole was quiet and always had a book in his hand.
Mrs. B introduced us around the table,
and asked how we liked our eggs. I
watched as the cook cracked these huge eggs into a bowl, added milk and beat
them with a fork. She put them into the
large iron pan on the old wood stove that occupied half the wall at then end of
the kitchen.
Later when Mom found out they were goose
eggs, she never ate them again...
