up the staircase, the flowery carpet soft under my feet, my coat brushing against the brightly painted banister.
Helen swung open the first bedroom door at the top of the stairs. “Stella?” she called.
“In the bath, darling!” a muffled voice called from behind a door.
Helen crossed the landing to another door. “Let’s see if Becky’s up yet—she should be if she isn’t!” After a quick knock, she clicked it open. “Becky? Are you decent?”
“Helen! You’re back already. Sure, come in.” I heardthe lilting tone of a soft Irish brogue from within.
Helen beckoned me to follow as she slipped through the doorway. “I share this room with Becky,” she whispered to me. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it’s cheaper to share.”
Becky was up—but only just, I could see. She was still in her nightgown—which looked at least two sizes too big. She was kneeling in the narrow space beside her bed.
“I was just saying my prayers. Forgot to do it before I went to bed after my shift,” she said a little sheepishly. “I just can’t get used to this sleeping in the day. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going!”
Helen went over and lit the gas lamp. Its warm glow illuminated the still-curtained room.
“Oh, that’s better,” Becky said, blinking like an owl. She reached clumsily toward her nightstand, feeling for a pair of spectacles that lay there. When she put them on, she looked even more owl-like, her eyes enlarged behind the thick lenses.
“Hello!” she said, suddenly noticing me and hastily smoothing back her mouse brown hair.
“This is Mary,” Helen explained. “The nurse on my rota who’s been teaching me the ropes.”
“Mary!” Becky greeted me like an old friend. “How nice to meet you at last. Helen’s told us all about you.”
“Come and sit in front of the fire.” Helen ushered me to the battered chair placed before the tiny iron fireplace in thefar corner of the bedroom. Small flames flickered in the grate.
As Helen stooped to place a few more coals on, Becky quickly smartened her bed and shrugged into a tattered old dressing gown. Then she gasped. “Oh, I’d forget me head if it was loose, so I would!” She scooped up a small glass bottle from her bedside table, uncorked it, tipped a few drops of its clear contents onto her fingers, and crossed herself before sprinkling a few more drops on her bed.
I assumed it was scent, though I could not detect its smell.
I stared in wonder.
Helen laughed affectionately. “It’s holy water,” she explained. “Becky’s always dabbing herself with the stuff.”
Becky looked momentarily embarrassed. “My ma’s convinced this country is filled with boggarts and banshees and that evil is bound to prey on an innocent country girl like myself.” She grinned and rolled her eyes. “I promised I’d keep myself doused in the holy water while I was away from home.”
I smiled back. It was impossible not to warm to Becky, and I found myself comforted by her superstitious piety.
How interesting that at one time, I would have privately thought it foolish to put stock in such practices.
“Is it your first time in England?” I asked her.
“First time away from home anywhere,” she told me, straightening her spectacles.
Just then, a door on the landing clattered open. The heady scent of an exotic perfume wafted into the room, followed by a strikingly beautiful girl clutching a towel around her.
Stella, I deduced.
“The bathroom’s all yours, Becky,” she announced, raking long white fingers through her newly washed hair. “I hope I haven’t used up the all hot water again.”
“Ah, never mind,” Becky answered good-naturedly. “It’s still a treat having an indoor bathroom.” She picked up her wash bag and squeezed past Stella out of the room.
Stella turned a limpidly beautiful gaze on me. “Oh, hello,” she said.
“This is Mary Seward,” Helen told her. “She works on my shift at the
Helen swung open the first bedroom door at the top of the stairs. “Stella?” she called.
“In the bath, darling!” a muffled voice called from behind a door.
Helen crossed the landing to another door. “Let’s see if Becky’s up yet—she should be if she isn’t!” After a quick knock, she clicked it open. “Becky? Are you decent?”
“Helen! You’re back already. Sure, come in.” I heardthe lilting tone of a soft Irish brogue from within.
Helen beckoned me to follow as she slipped through the doorway. “I share this room with Becky,” she whispered to me. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it’s cheaper to share.”
Becky was up—but only just, I could see. She was still in her nightgown—which looked at least two sizes too big. She was kneeling in the narrow space beside her bed.
“I was just saying my prayers. Forgot to do it before I went to bed after my shift,” she said a little sheepishly. “I just can’t get used to this sleeping in the day. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going!”
Helen went over and lit the gas lamp. Its warm glow illuminated the still-curtained room.
“Oh, that’s better,” Becky said, blinking like an owl. She reached clumsily toward her nightstand, feeling for a pair of spectacles that lay there. When she put them on, she looked even more owl-like, her eyes enlarged behind the thick lenses.
“Hello!” she said, suddenly noticing me and hastily smoothing back her mouse brown hair.
“This is Mary,” Helen explained. “The nurse on my rota who’s been teaching me the ropes.”
“Mary!” Becky greeted me like an old friend. “How nice to meet you at last. Helen’s told us all about you.”
“Come and sit in front of the fire.” Helen ushered me to the battered chair placed before the tiny iron fireplace in thefar corner of the bedroom. Small flames flickered in the grate.
As Helen stooped to place a few more coals on, Becky quickly smartened her bed and shrugged into a tattered old dressing gown. Then she gasped. “Oh, I’d forget me head if it was loose, so I would!” She scooped up a small glass bottle from her bedside table, uncorked it, tipped a few drops of its clear contents onto her fingers, and crossed herself before sprinkling a few more drops on her bed.
I assumed it was scent, though I could not detect its smell.
I stared in wonder.
Helen laughed affectionately. “It’s holy water,” she explained. “Becky’s always dabbing herself with the stuff.”
Becky looked momentarily embarrassed. “My ma’s convinced this country is filled with boggarts and banshees and that evil is bound to prey on an innocent country girl like myself.” She grinned and rolled her eyes. “I promised I’d keep myself doused in the holy water while I was away from home.”
I smiled back. It was impossible not to warm to Becky, and I found myself comforted by her superstitious piety.
How interesting that at one time, I would have privately thought it foolish to put stock in such practices.
“Is it your first time in England?” I asked her.
“First time away from home anywhere,” she told me, straightening her spectacles.
Just then, a door on the landing clattered open. The heady scent of an exotic perfume wafted into the room, followed by a strikingly beautiful girl clutching a towel around her.
Stella, I deduced.
“The bathroom’s all yours, Becky,” she announced, raking long white fingers through her newly washed hair. “I hope I haven’t used up the all hot water again.”
“Ah, never mind,” Becky answered good-naturedly. “It’s still a treat having an indoor bathroom.” She picked up her wash bag and squeezed past Stella out of the room.
Stella turned a limpidly beautiful gaze on me. “Oh, hello,” she said.
“This is Mary Seward,” Helen told her. “She works on my shift at the
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