Shall Not Sleep [bxb]

Chapter Eighteen

Lansing Hall opened at eleven. Mom shook me awake at nine.

"Breakfast," she said.

It felt like an anvil had fallen on my head. My eyelids felt so heavy it was like they might fall right off my face.

"I know, I'm jetlagged, too," Mom croaked. "But don't you want to see the house?"

That was enough to bolt me out of bed and into clothes and then downstairs.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" May said from the stove, where she was scrambling eggs. "A wee bit jetlagged, are you?"

Mom sipped tea at the table, where John read the newspaper. She smiled at me. "Max is a late sleeper at the best of times."

"Lazybones, is he?" May chuckled. "Reminds me of Glor back in her teenage days. Remember, John?" John opened his mouth, but she interrupted him. "A real sleepyhead, that one was. Until she discovered gardening for herself, that is. She soon found out that dawn is the best time to get out into nature! Speaking of gardens, did you get a chance to peek into ours? We've got a prizewinning herb garden just yonder out that window. We've won Lansing's Best Herb Garden Award seven years running."

I wondered how many herb gardens there had to be in a village before there was an award for the best of them.

"May I ask a question?" Mom asked.

"Certainly, dear."

"Why is this place called The Urban Swine? There's nothing urban about it."

May and John laughed. For a good thirty seconds, they were chuckling away to themselves.

"We have an herb garden," May finally said. "And a pig out front. Get it? The Herb'n'Swine?"

They weren't satisfied until we smiled. It was a bit of a battle to get there, but once we did, Mom and I started to laugh. We laughed until it was hard to hold back tears and even harder to keep food in my mouth. Their laughs got even louder when I accidentally snorted milk out my nose. Mom fell back against her chair, face covered in happy tears and her nose all wrinkled up in the way she hated.

"You sillies," May said, plunking plates of eggs and sausage and bacon in front of us. "Eat up. You need your strength for the tour of Lansing Hall."

For a little while, I was lost in a fun, happy dream world with Mom, like when I was a kid. Then, with those words, I was back in my body. In England.

It was time.

*

Lansing Hall really was just a few minutes' walk up the road from The Urban Swine. The iron gates were open, welcoming us up a long driveway. Quite a crowd had turned up, wearing suits and dresses and fancy hats.

"I wish I'd thought to bring something nicer to wear," Mom moaned as we walk up the driveway, which curved up ahead around a grove of pine trees. She tugged at her capri shorts and t-shirt. "We look so American."

I agreed. I was wearing the all-too-typical Nikes, for God's sake.

We turned that corner, and suddenly we were in the shadow of Lansing Hall. Mom's sharp intake of breath said it all. It was an enormous stone structure that looked more like a fortress than a house. Big, square, its tower reaching higher than any of the trees around it. It wasn't graceful, like fairy tale palaces. It looks more like the home of the stern, strict stepfamily than the home of Prince Charming.

This is it, something inside me said.

The carved wooden doors were open, and just inside was a little ticket booth, manned by a mousey-haired, no-nonsense lady in thick glasses.