Wildflowers In The Ruins: A 1917 Story

Chapter Sixteen. Honeysuckle

Friday 22nd November, 1918:

Nineteen months later...

"Jane, M'Lovely, we're nearly done," Elsie tells me happily, plaiting my hair down my back and interweaving an antique (well, that's what she claims anyway) white lace ribbon from Sister Thompson's sewing box into the braid.

Something old.

My heart feels fit to burst I'm so happy!
The war has finally ended!
Nearly two weeks ago, and I pray my beloved and me will shortly return to England, together.
Home.

I'm back in my dormitory at Maison du Poirieres near Courcelles-le-Comte. The room is still stark, but a dressing table has been wedged in. My dear friends Elsie, Lizzie and Martha have kindly all been given a morning and half the afternoon off and have joined Enid, Katie and Mary, who all unfortunately have to begin their shift in twenty minutes. I desperately wanted all six of them to share my day, but I've been fortunate to survive this war with my beloved, and anything else is an extra blessing. I'm just grateful my three dear friends from the Newfoundland's are here too.

Next, I gently pull on my snowy-silk stockings, a gift from Enid and Katie.
The 'two-peas-in-a-pod' as Mary and myself affectionately call them left them on my bed last night whilst I was in the bathroom... and what a dainty change they make from the cotton and woollen ones I've been accustomed to.

Something new.

Mary Adams pokes her head around the door, all tight ebony curls under her pure white headdress: "steamed now, and dry to perfection" she beams, before producing a frock under her arm.
The lone evening gown she brought out here, on the premise of attending balls, much like Elsie, was a dazzling festive white. A sweetheart neckline and dainty, elbow-length sleeves all of the softest lace. When I'd first told her of my engagement, she'd secretly shown me the gown and it was perfect! It needed a thorough clean and a slight alteration as Mary was a fair few inches taller than me, but here it was... the dress of my dreams! We'd had an evening for her to showcase the dress and me try it for size back in late April last year, before sending it back home for the hem to be lifted half an inch. I'd had a good chance to absorb it then and admire it for it's feminine beauty, but now... what was this shimmering in a rose-gold thread against the gentle misty morning light?
Deciphering the outlines and markings of snowdrops, buttercups, bluebells, heart's ease, primroses and... poppies!, I almost cried.
Wildflowers!
Sweeping around the hem and reaching up to just below the knee  then again adorning the bodice, they told my story.
"Oh, Mary!" I gasped, "it's so beautiful! Thank you, my dear, it's perfect." My voice began to waver as I felt tears prickling the back of my eyelids. The gratitude I felt was so overwhelming as I struggled for words. The only thing I could think to then say was "it's cleaned well, hasn't it?" as my voice caught in my throat.
"You're welcome dear " Mary replied softly. "I do want it back though," she added in a mock-strict voice, "especially after having it cleaned... but no hurry. Especially as I got Chessie to customise it."
Mary's family were well-heeled enough for her mother to employ her own maid, Chester, who Mary adored and always called Chessie. Chessie was known for her exceptional talents with a needle and thread, and she'd surpassed herself with this embroidery. Before I came out here, I'd never known anyone wealthy enough to have servants. Mary had told me earnestly she could never go back to the life she'd had before the war... it'd changed each and every one of us in ways we'd never have comprehended in a lifetime!

Something borrowed.

Slipping the dreamy gown on over my corset, chemise, drawers and petticoat set, then feeling it drape and fall softly over my stockings to my ankles, I truly feel a princess for the first time in my twenty seven years.

Awake at five, I've bathed this morning in our communal bathroom, using Elsie's rose-scented soap, then washing my hair in the softening rosemary. Drying off with a surprisingly fluffy towel, there was a knock on the door. Wrapping myself up, I answered to see Mabel Chiltern larger than life blocking the doorway.
She'd been promoted to Nursing Sister earlier this year, and never let anyone forget it!
"Don't forget this," she barked, shoving a tiny turquoise box with a marbled effect on it's lid in my hands.
"Thank you, Sister Chiltern," I replied graciously, taking the box from her red raw hands.
Re-bolting the door, then dropping the towel, I sat on the side of the enameled bath. Opening the box, I knew well what was inside, but Mabel had insisted on storing it away for 'safekeeping.'
Opening it though, I still couldn't resist a little cry of delight.
Inside sat a delicate, understated and small round solitare sapphire on a short, fine gold chain.