Again?
Copyright© 2016 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 3
As the general run of madhouses go ... the trench conversion was a doozy. Only in a state of confusion like the one Wendy appeared in, could her appearance create so little fuss.
The sergeant said, "Shuffle your feet, and get out of the way."
So ... that's what she did. She climbed out of the diggings and walked away. If she hadn't been soaking wet and immediately covered in dust turned to mud, more men would have noticed her. Just walking to the embankment she was transformed into a mud ball.
Once free of the dust cloud, she sat down to explore her options. She was far from depression but close to panic. Sitting at the side of the hauley road she looked so confused that a trucker stopped and gave her a lift. They didn't talk much. Although she had money, the driver gave her 100 francs.
Well away from the confusion of the excavations, he dropped her at the Chambres d'Hôtes Vivrah or guest house in the village of Hazebrouck. The Chambres was a private home in distress. The sons were dead in the trenches, the husband? Unknown.
Not that she didn't know the father of her children ... he had gone to the city and never returned; a common occurrence in the recent war.
The lady of the house sent Wendy to the stable where the daughter of the Hôtes hosed Wendy down to partly clean clothes and washed away the worst of the mud.
"Ah, there Is a girl under all that mud," the daughter exclaimed.
"All my life," said Wendy.
And in the way of girls everywhere, they laughed a little, cried a little and became friends.
Judged clean enough for the house, the pair returned to the house. A steaming copper and enameled hip bath was sitting on the white kitchen tile. Wendy stripped, and luxuriated in the hot water.
While she soaked, her fire suit was washed, her shoes, gloves and balaclava cleaned as well as could be expected; the mud of French Flanders is particularly greasy ... all that soaked-in blood.
Toweled dry, and robed, Wendy drained the hip-bath and saw the hook in the vestibule. She hung up the tub and put her head out the kitchen door.
"Well, you came out pretty," Maman said. "I wasn't sure what was under all that mud. Come sit."
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.