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."

The daughter, Eloise, stepped in with, "How did you come to be so... ?"

"Muddy?" said Wendy.

Eloise nodded.

"I was at the trench," Wendy said.

"It's dry there," Maman said, with a squint and a hint of raised eyebrow. Girls of a certain type went to the trench. It paid well.

Jeeze, Wendy thought. How do I get out of this? "It is? I mean, it is." Shit! The mom look! "Look, I don't know. I just showed up. A sergeant sent me away."

"Ah," said the maman. "Fell into bad company, did you? The sergeant saw your quality and sent you away, did he?" She turned to Eloise, "See what happens when you keep company with that kind of girl?"

Her best friends were 'that' kind of girl.

"Yes, Maman," she said, blushing. But all those virile men, those muscles and smooth chests. They make me wet in my nether parts. Bah! Maman has been talking to the grocer again. But he's old... 35 at least. Respectable! No sense of adventure or fun. I will not have it! She stamped a pretty foot. But not hard ... maman would notice.

"Has there been any news of the Rally?" Wendy asked. Not to change the subject.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Eloise, "A girl driver was killed."

"Yes?" said Wendy.

"Not really," Eloise said.

Maman said, "They haven't found her body. The gendarmes say the water police must drain the canal between the locks so that her body may be found. Such disruption.

"Her father is an important man. The Roads Bureau has already started eliminating those dangerous corners. So many accidents when it rains."

"Just the other day," Eloise was halted by a look, "Yes Maman, three weeks ago a girl from school had to be rescued when her gentleman drove off the road on that very same corner. But not like this foreigner ... they say the foreigner was driving 80 kilometers an hour when it started to rain. An old Volvo they say. Foreign cars ... not safe like French."

A ding. DING

"Your clothes are dry. I've never seen the like," Maman said. "Audi, they say."

"May I use your telephone?" Wendy said, "I must call home, my parents will be worried."