I wrote the second part to see if this is really going somewhere. If it just sounds dumb, please tell me. Seriously, it would be great if I didn't waste my time on something no one will read. Haha, that sounds really bad but it's true.
Again, this would turn out to be a Jekyll and Hyde story so here we go.
Part two!
When we finally stopped, we had entered the small town of Whitby, England. I had meant to come here before, because of the Dracula museum and all, but my schedule left no space to wander.
We drove up a long dirt road. Past all the houses, past all the other red brick building that look exactly the same. The road curved and winded up a hill to a very large gray brick building. It was the museum, I was sure of it.
Reading my mind, Rex said, “Isn’t that a beauty?” He looked at the mansion as if he’d never really seen it, with awe and admiration.
As the road swerved around a small pond, we drove down the hill to another gray brick mansion. This one didn’t impress Rex in the least bit. His sour face made me realize he didn’t like working here anymore than I wanted to be here.
I couldn’t help feeling bad for the guy.
The house didn’t look like it has been really taken care of. The windows looked dirty, the garden was over grown with weeds and the steps were covered in crinkly old leaves.
“The doctor usually has his lectures in the back building over there.” He said, pointing to a building that looked just a smaller version of the main house.
“How often does he have lectures?” I asked, helping him unload my luggage from the trunk.
“Two to four times a weak, depending on if he’s got anything left to lecture about.” He said with a smile, but I didn’t understand his joke.
I nodded and took the last bag out of the trunk.
He led me into the house, which smelt like dirty feet and dog. Beyond the long hall that was some sort of foyer, was a main hall that led up to the grand stair case. There were a few doors to my right and left that were all closed. A hall seemed to go behind the stairs at both sides.
“Behind the stairs there,” he said, pointing down the left hall, “is the doctor’s study, the loo and the conservatory.” Then he pointed to the right hall. “That there is the kitchen. Prudence should be in there now. Prudence is the cook. Lynette and Maggie do most of the cleaning. You’ll be bunking with Maggie.” He said, starting up the stairs.
“I have to share a room?” I said, skeptically following Rex.
“Now, Brant,” he continued, “stocks the lab with all of its necessities, along with being the butler whenever we have real guests. But, as you can imagine, besides his pupils, the doctor doesn’t get many visitors.”
“That’s a shame,” I said quietly, “I love meeting new people.”
Upstairs, there was only one hall to all the doors and it surrounded the stairs. There had to be at least eight doors. Rex led me straight across and put my bags by the door then turned to the other rooms.
Starting at our left he pointed and said, “Prudence and Lynette’s room. The first guest room, which of course, is never used. That one by the window there is Doctor Jekyll’s room.” There was a small window sill between the doctor’s room and the room he pointed to next. “That is the second master bedroom, but no one uses it. Then it’s the second guest room and then of course, Mr. Poole’s room which has to be the biggest. Right next to your room is my and Brant’s room.” He started to walk away but turned back to me. “You might want to check in the Mr. Poole. He should be in his room.”
Then Rex left me to go down the stairs. I turned to my door and opened it. The room reminded me of a college dorm, with the two single beds at each side of the room. One side decorated with your roommate’s things while your side is plain and white. An invitation to spread your individuality.
I threw my bags on my bed and then sat down. Maggie’s side of the room was very purple. Her quilt was purple, some through pillows were different shades of purple, and the small lap shade beside her bed was purple. Yeesh, I thought to myself, of all the colors to be obsessed with, why purple? I unpacked my cloths first. The small dresser, which was intended for me—the lack of purple tipped me off—only had five drawers and some of my cloths didn’t fit. I left my lesser nice cloths in the suit cases and shoved them under my bed.
I brought a few photos from hope and put them on the dresser. One was of Alyssa Milano and me at the Emmy Awards. The others were of my family, well, all except my mother and father. I wouldn’t want to be reminded of the reason I’m here every day.
I heard footsteps right outside my door and I went to investigate. There was an old woman holding linens going into the doctor’s room.
“Hi,” I said a little loud.
She turned to me, wide eyed, “Who are you?” She asked. I was half expecting her to have an English accent like Rex, but instead she was French.
“I’m Samantha,” I studied her expression, and she didn’t acknowledge who I was, “from America.” She still seemed clueless. “The alcoholic!” I said, my voice sounded harsh with impatience.
Her eye brows raised and her mouth went into the shape of an ‘O.’ Here we go, I thought to myself.
