Paul was already gone by the time Sarah wakes up. This was not uncommon, and not unpleasant. She spendt time curled in a ball on the bed, awake but unmoving, just enjoying the tranquility of solitude. Not too much time, of course. No more than fifteen or twenty minutes. There was work to be done.
The girls were still eating breakfast, excitedly chatting in the way girls did. The subject today was, of course, the end of the war and the changes it will bring to their lives. Myra and Adelaide, both nieces of hers, were engaged. Their boyfriends’ proposals had been sweet gestures in the last moments before they had been sent off to war. Now that it appeared the boys would be back soon, and the marriages realized, they appeared nervous and perhaps a bit regretful (that may have been Sarah projecting.) The other girls needled them about it, suggesting decorations for the wedding and dresses to wear once the cotton was back. The prevailing idea was a double wedding shortly after the New Year, at a big church in Melbourne. Myra and Adelaide wouldn’t say anything specific.
Sarah told the girls not to get too excited. Weddings were fun, but what was important was all the years after them. This had no impact. She told them to get a move on, that if they don’t get their work done soon they’d have to do it in the rain.
It’s laundry day for her. Since she was twelve, Sarah had felt uncomfortable having other people handle her clothes, so she never delegated this chore to one of the girls. The girls had no such compunctions, giving her a shop’s worth of clothing, all stained with mud and sweat. Sarah filled up the basin with well water and carried it to the basement. The baby in her stomach gave a little kick, and Sarah’s whole body wobbled, splashing water onto the floor. She continued lugging the basin downstairs, making a note to clean the spillage up later.
As the radio bubbles on, Bing Crosby singing another love song, Sarah took her time with the washing. She made sure to scrub out every bit of soiling, and draped the now-soaked garments on the basement railing. She noticed a red stain on one of Paul’s suits. Her mind leapt to lipstick, and then grudgingly reminded her that it could be a spilled glass of wine or a bit of sauce. Still, he seemed so fastidious and careful that even a spill is hard to imagine. Sarah washed the suit, trying not to pay attention to the texture of the stain.
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