Nyx [h.s]

Chapter eight

January 1941

"Are you really going out in this cold?" Shirley asks peeking under the covers, I can only see her tangled hair from where I am standing. 

It is beyond cold, it has been like this for the past weeks ever since Christmas. Wood and coal were being rationed so we did not have easy access to them, which meant we had no way to warm the house. Instead, we are using hot water bottles to warm ourselves. I could tell almost none of the girls were used to not having their houses heated in the winter. It means they come from wealthy, or maybe just financially stable backgrounds, unlike me.

My parent's house was extremely cold, my father rarely bought wood when he was supposed to which meant we had to ration it as well. The only difference is that my house was much older than the one I am living in now, so the isolation was terrible. Also, on the flat I shared with George, it had a broken window for the first few weeks of us living there, which meant the cold air had free access to the entire flat. So one could say I was more than used to it.

"Yes, it is Sunday, I'm going to the cemetery." I tell Shirley even if by now she should know I always visit George on Sunday mornings.

"But there's snow out there." She comments trying to persuade me to stay inside with her.

"I don't mind it."

As I always lived close to the sea, we rarely got any snow. I only witnessed real snow when I came to London with George. Well, I never got to enjoy it with him, but I remember vividly receiving a letter from him, in late November of 1939. It was just a little under two months after he was sent away to fight. It was the first snow of the year, I was sitting by our window as I watched it fall, completely amazed by how beautiful everything looked.

It is the last memory I have with George, and even so, he was not physically present with me. He promised we would get married when he got his next leave, something I regret not doing sooner. We had the opportunity to get married when we moved to London, but we thought we had a lifetime ahead of us to do it. Turns out, we did not. We should have gotten married even before we left our hometown. I was too stubborn, saying we did not need to be married to live together. I wanted to defy the rules society forces upon us.

Not that being married to George would change his fate, the only difference is that it would make me a widow now. I would be Emily Bates, I would always have a part of him with me. Now I only have memories.

"Alright, when you come back what do you say to some beans on toast and scotch to warm our souls?" On days like this, nothing felt better than heart-warming food.

"Count me in." I tell her looking forward to an afternoon listening to the radio while getting slightly drunk with warm scotch.

I grab a grey linen headscarf putting it over my hair, tying it under my chin. It was the best I could do to prevent my ears from falling off on my way to the cemetery. As usual, I was wearing a black dress to represent my mourning for the love of my life. I put on my black heels boots, as I get ready to walk out of the bedroom, however, Shirley calls me before I get the chance to leave.

"This is what true love is like, isn't it?" Her head comes out of the covers as she stares at me. "What you two had." She adds.

"I think it is." I sigh feeling the urge to cry at her words. "I don't think I will ever be able to love someone else."

"Have you told him about moving on?" Shirley knew I talked to George every time I visited his grave. I use to just sit there and empty my heart and head to him, just like I did when he was still alive.