Sometimes I long to go back to that place where I haven’t really been before. I often go there in my dreams. There’s a house there. Sometimes it’s tiny, similar to the one on Rekaneni’s farm. Sometimes it huge, rambling, expansive. It is, however, always haunted.
We stand outside of the servant’s entrance as our friends arrive. Ellen and Dave get out of their car just as Steve and Katie pull up. As I turned to greet them I notice a twinkle from above and look up. I could have sworn that there above the stone carved fascia, a third floor hovered just for a second. Foolishness!
We go in through the back and enter into a hallway that leads into the kitchen. It has huge areas for preparing, cooking, roasting, stirring. A large butcher block table stands in the middle of the room, two hundred years of chopping having left tiny, bowl shaped groves here and there. Off to the right is a small windowless room, just large enough for a bed. This is where the cook lived when this grand old house had servants to care for it.
From the back of the kitchen a narrow corridor runs the length of the house. It has cupboards along its length housing the fine china, and sinks for washing and cleaning. The corridor allowed servants to travel unseen while clearing the dining room or attending to their masters any where in the house.
I notice a door at the left of the kitchen. Servant’s stairs to the second floor no doubt. Eagerly we race up the stairs to explore the living quarters. As we tumble up to the top we bump against a wall across from the door. It moves. At first we think we have broken something, but then we realize that this board is a newer addition and that there is yet another set of stairs behind. We pull off the barrier and head upwards through years of cobwebs, leaving our foot steps in the dust.
We step out into what must have been an exquisite ball room. It is still decorated for a grand Christmas party. There is a long dead, once beautifully decorated tree in the middle of the room. The room itself is almost completely made of glass. Large swags of pine boughs stretch from window pane to window pane, encircling the room. As I reach out to touch one of the beautiful red bows that adorn the boughs I can hear a tinkle as a few needles drop to the ground.
Oh what a party it must have been! What a sight! I can almost envision the grandeur of the evening. I can hear a majestic waltz playing in my mind. A handsome young man in tie and tails offers me his hand and bows. I extend my gloved hand and shyly curtsy. We begin to dance around the room. Slowly at first, but as the music rises in intensity we begin to whirl around the dance floor. I can see the orchestra now, in their formal attire. I can feel my gown swing to and fro, fine Italian lace swishing across satin. I wonder at the Christmas tree, all aglow with candles and hand blown ornaments. I can smell the mouth watering treats as we swirl past the buffet table. People, one more beautifully arrayed then the next, clink glasses, toasting their good fortune. Smiling at me. Smiling at me. Smiling at me.
Smiling at me….I begin to get a little uncomfortable. Why won’t they stop smiling at me? Is there a bit of malaise in there eyes? Just then I hear grandfather’s clock far off in the distance as it begins to strike twelve. Smiles frozen on long dead faces. Forgotten glasses in half raised arms. Starring at me! All at once I realize that I have to leave. I have to be gone before the clock strikes midnight or I would be stuck at this hellish ball forever. I untangle myself from my partners arms. He glares at me in anger. I make a mad dash for the stairs. Angry eyes following my every step. Flying down the steps two and three at a time. Tripping, stumbling, the music growing ever fainter. I continue out through the kitchen and stumble out the back door trying to catch my breath, bent over, terrified.
Next to me Charles, Steve and Ellen stand, also bent over, also gasping. We look at each other afraid to ask the question. I look at Charles and out of the corner of my eye I see a twinkle. A third floor? Foolishness!
