After the War Is Over Read Online Free PDF Page A

with her at Mrs. Collins’s. It’s all
     arranged.”
    “That’s very kind of her. Well, then—I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Shall I have a car meet you at Euston?”
    “No, thank you. I can easily make my way there. And you have other things to worry
     about. Do give Lilly my love.”
    “Good-bye until then.”
    “Good-bye.”
    After they’d rung off, she sat at the desk and stared into space for long moments,
     unable to shake the sense of unease that had settled over her like a too-warm shawl.
     She had to go. She had said she would, Lilly was expecting her, and she was needed.
     But, oh, how she dreaded it.
    She worked late, ensuring her desk was clear before she left, and arrived home just
     as the other women were finishing supper.
    “Hello, everyone. Is there anything left from supper, Janie?”
    “Yes, Miss Charlotte. I’ll fill a plate for you now.”
    “Thank you. Before I forget, you needn’t cook for me tomorrow night. I have to go
     to London for a funeral. For my friend Lilly’s father. The service is tomorrow.”
    “What are you going to wear?” asked Norma.
    “I hadn’t thought of it. I have a black skirt and coat that more or less match. They
     should do.”
    “Those things you wear to church? I’ll beg your pardon now, but they’re awful . How long have you had them?”
    “I’m not sure. I bought them just after I moved to London, so . . . early 1915?”
    “Precisely. They’re hopelessly out-of-date. You’ll look like the help if you wear
     them.”
    If only Norma knew the truth. “But I haven’t anything else that’s suitable. And I
     don’t have time to visit the shops before I leave.”
    “I’ve a suit you can wear,” Rosie offered. “I had it made only last year. We’re nearly
     the same size, I think.”
    “And I’ve a hat you can borrow,” said Meg, surprising everyone when she spoke up.
     “Black wool felt, with a high crown and narrow brim. Perfect for the occasion.”
    “There you are,” said Norma, who was clearly in her element. “Let’s get you dressed
     and see how you look.”
    Garments were collected, Charlotte was sent into her room to change, and all awaited
     her return to the sitting room so they might weigh in and offer suggestions. As there
     was no full-length mirror in the house, Charlotte had to be content with the other
     women’s assessment of her appearance, as well as such glimpses as she could catch
     with her tiny hand mirror. Rosie’s suit seemed to fit well, and Meg’s hat was alarmingly
     stylish compared to the battered wool cloche she’d worn for the past two winters.
    “I suppose I’ll do.” The suit, which she wore with her best high-necked white blouse,
     was beautifully made, its lapels and pockets edged with wide grosgrain ribbon. She
     would never fit in, for Lilly’s family could spot bourgeois impostors at a thousand
     yards; but at least she wouldn’t embarrass her friend, and that was what mattered.
    “What about your hair?” Norma asked. “You wouldn’t have time to cut it, would you?
     Imagine how nice it would look.”
    If there were one concession to fashion Charlotte absolutely refused to consider,
     it was cutting her hair. She had a plain face, and even on her best day was never
     more than passably attractive—pretty enough, one well-meaning friend had once said—but her hair was beautiful.
    “No, Norma. I’m not cutting my hair. I’ll put it in a low chignon. It looks well like
     that, and with enough pins it will stay in place.”
    She raised the mirror to her face, intent on assessing Meg’s hat, but her attention
     was caught, and held, by the woman who stared back at her. Did she always look so
     serious, her eyes wary, half-hidden shadows behind the metal rims of her spectacles?
     She attempted a smile, but it looked all wrong. It was the grimace of someone in pain,
     someone who carried with her the memory of joy, with none of its delight.
    S HE CAUGHT THE 9:15 train to Euston the next