The Ghost (Hiccstrid)

The Ghost

The dull knock on the door startles her. It's a lazy Sunday afternoon in the quite town of Berk, in Berkshire, England and the only excitement she expected for the day was the short-lived but feisty hail storm that chased her back to the house a few minutes ago.

She feels it in her guts that it won't be good news. She takes a deep breath and straightens her skirt and goes for the door, but stops before turning the knob.

Through the translucent glass she sees the silhouette of two men standing on the porch and she recognizes the outlines of their cap; they're from the army. But none of them is her husband, she is quite sure about that, he has a much more slender figure and she seriously doubts that he put on weight while serving in a dark and soulless war.

No... She knows they are here to share the news she's been dreading in the past painfully lonely months.

She waits another second and neatens her hair; she brushes a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and touches her tight bun just above the nape of her neck.

She swallows hard then turns the door knob and slowly opens the door. Their truck is parked a few yards from the house and she wonders why she didn't hear it, probably because of the hail.

She doesn't greet the two men; she doesn't say anything she just looks at them as they slowly take off their caps. They are young, they should look young, but the war ploughed deep wrinkles on their foreheads and filled their eyes with constant sorrow.

She feels sorry for them. She knows why they are here and she doesn't envy them.

She turns back and heads for the living room with slow steps, almost waltzing, absentmindedly humming a bittersweet tune. She has left the door wide open for the soldiers who bashfully follow her.

She looks back behind her shoulder and notices a small package in the younger one's hand. It's wrapped in brown paper, tightly tied with twine and it rustles with every move he makes.

She stops at the shiny mahogany dining table and turns around. She gestures to the man to place the package on the tabletop and he does it with the utmost care.

The older man looks at her and sniffs. "He was..."

Astrid nods. "I know... He was a good man." The words come surprisingly easy, even the use of past tense comes without any difficulties, but she wants to make their job easier, their burdens lighter. She knows they suffer enough without the ungrateful task of notifying women about their husbands'... She wants to erase the word that's forming in her mind; it's too early to say it, it's too early to think about it.

"He was..." The man starts again. He wants to give her an explanation, but she doesn't need it.

"Please..." She looks at the insignia on his sleeve then the name on his jacket. "Lieutenant Eretson... I'm not interested in the 'hows' and 'whats'."

He presses his lips together and looks at his younger companion. They have been told that Mrs. Haddock wasn't like any other woman, but he certainly didn't expect her to be disinterested in her husband's fate.

The younger man clears his throat; he feels that he has to say something to the widow of his legendry squadron leader.

"Mrs. Haddock, if you need..."

She flashes him a faint smile; he looks so young and innocent. "I'll be fine... pilot officer Gustav."

There's an awkward silence, but she soon breaks it. "If you'll excuse me, I..."

They leave as quietly as they came.

She closes the door behind them and stumbles back to the living room. Now that she is left alone, she lets the growing weakness take over her body. She collapses on a chair at the table, looking at the package with bleary eyes.