Lavender & Letters: A Reimagined 1917 Story

Until Next Time...

Disclaimer!

Although the story is heavily inspired by the Sam Mendes masterpiece, this novel is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people (living or dead), actual locations and historical events are solely used to lend to the fiction and appropriate cultural and historical setting. All other names, characters, places and incidents portrayed in this story are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance or reference to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental!

Enjoy <3 xx

Italics = Rachel's Thoughts

12:19pm, Nurses Quarters...

The girls eagerly push their bowls aside when I shut the door, I bite my tongue at their eagerness.

"What did she want?" Asks Dorothy.

Just rip the bandaid.

"I'm leaving."

"...What?!"

"I am to be relocated."

"Where?" Again in unison.

Gloom leaks through my solemness as I get emotional flashbacks to Harry and William leaving. That was one of the worst days.

"A casualty clearing station near Arras."

"Is it temporary?" Bethany asks.

"Of course, I wouldn't have said yes if it wasn't."

I stride to my bed and open my suitcases while the girls scurry to the other side.

"Why are you going and not everyone?"

"My experience was what they need and if too many of us left then this place would need nurses." I throw clothes in. "Plus there's a convoy going there so it was killing two birds with one stone. I suppose others are coming but I shall see."

Bethany scratches her ear. "Were you recommended by Sister Mary?"

"I was." I start folding and arranging.

Hoiseries...undergarments...tops...skirts...shoes...

"Are William or Michael there?"

My heart skips at the possibility because it would certainly make the move easier.

"Michael isn't, but William could be from his descriptions of battles. But he hasn't directly told me with the worry of spies and all." I neaten my clothes. "So I won't know until I get there."

Later today...Christ.

I throw my lotion, soaps, clips, and writing and art supplies, filling whatever empty spaces I have before putting my perfume dusting powder, oils, hair brush and clips in my handbag.

"And you don't know when you'll come back?"

I gulp. "I could be away for weeks, but I'm hoping to be back before Barry's concert because I'm really looking forward to it."

I pack my spare uniform, caps, aprons and oversleeves in my other suitcase before checking my person and securing my bags.

"Let us know as soon as you can." Alice pleads.

Now knowing when I'll see my sisterhood constricts my muscles with wariness and my throat with melancholy, but my hope is stronger than my doubt. Sister Mary enters and holds her hands to me, her composure dependable; if she trusts me to go, then I shall with regard.

"Come ladies. Let us pray."

I feel everyone on my arms and shoulders as we bow our heads. Their touch and scented powders steady my scattered thoughts while Sister Mary clears her throat. Her voice is wonderful with prayers, deeper and warmer to the words that can wrap you in a humble embrace whilst also lifting you with burliness.