Brigit's Flame August 2014 Challenge (Week Four) - Welcome Home
Title: Welcome Home
Author: Florence A. Watson
Written for: Brigit’s Flame August 2014 Challenge (week four)
Primary Prompt: Blood
Length: 635 words
Author’s Notes: (1) This story is part of a longer work that is still in progress and, within the timeline for the longer story, should come before the ficlet I wrote for Week One. The focus of each ficlet is as follows: “Bone”: describes the protagonist’s immediate emotional reaction to learning her son has joined up; “Skin” describes how flustered and shaken the protagonist feels a few days, her routines overset; “Muscle” describes the son’s send off and the strain being strong places on the protagonist. The story is set in England in 1939, during the early days of World War II.
The bucket of cut flowers was hastily dropped by the back door as Lucy rushed in. She’d completely lost track of the time! She grabbed the teacloth from its hook, opened the oven door, and reached in for the cake tin. The top looked a little too dark but fortunately it wasn’t burned. Cake rescued, Lucy fished in the back of a cupboard for a rack and turned it out to cool.
Laurie did like a nice Victoria sponge. He was due back today. At first he’d said he would arrive by the midday train but he’d rung yesterday to explain he was catching a lift with Mr Moss and wouldn’t arrive before tea time. Lucy had been putting the extra time to good use, making sure the house had those extra touches that made it welcoming.
A large crystal vase that had been a wedding present years ago from a distant relative and another smaller vase (ordinary pottery this time) were pulled from their hiding places at the back of one shelf in the pantry. Lucy took great care as she cut the ends from flower stems with a sharp knife (not scissors - no never scissors which could crush them), before arranging them in a lovely display. The tall mauve Michaelmas daisies were joined by pale pink phlox in the bigger vase and put on the mantel in the sitting room. It was a formal room with a window overlooked by an elder tree, which meant it was rather dark, even on a sunny day. The flowers would help to brighten it.
The little bouquet she carried up to Laurie’s bedroom. His window faced west which meant it caught the afternoon sun. In spring the lilac bush bloomed just below his window. Now he had a good view of the roses. She had added a yellow rosebud to his vase, along with a few Shasta daisies, and the last yellow poppy. At the door on her way out, Lucy paused to cast her eye over the room. It looked cheery and inviting.
Downstairs once more she carefully sliced through the middle of the sponge, before placing the base on a cake plate. A dollop of raspberry jam was spooned over the base. It took time and effort to whip the cream, even though she had those marvellous rotary beaters her cousin Olive had given her last Christmas, but at last it was stiff and she spread it over the base and added the top half of cake to the sandwich. A thin powdering of sugar completed the special welcome home cake. Lucy pushed it well to the back of the counter, out of harm’s way. Next bread was sliced thinly and salmon and shrimp paste applied to make sandwiches. A damp teacloth was wrapped round the plate of sandwiches to keep them from drying out.
It was almost four o’clock when Lucy went upstairs to freshen her appearance. She felt a little flushed from rushing round and splashed some water on her face and neck. It only took a moment to slip into her second best tweed skirt, change her blouse, and put a comb through her hair. She made it to the top of the stairs just in time to see Laurie come through the front door.
“Mum! I’m home!” he called. “No, down boy!” He pushed at the excited dog, who had come in from the garden when he opened the door, and now was bouncing round him. “Mum, are you home?” Laurie had dropped his duffel and now was bent over his dog, patting him.
Lucy hesitated on the landing, one white knuckled hand clutching the handrail, while the other was pressed against her throat. She could feel the pulse in her neck beating rapidly with shock. Laurie was in uniform.
Author: Florence A. Watson
Written for: Brigit’s Flame August 2014 Challenge (week four)
Primary Prompt: Blood
Length: 635 words
Author’s Notes: (1) This story is part of a longer work that is still in progress and, within the timeline for the longer story, should come before the ficlet I wrote for Week One. The focus of each ficlet is as follows: “Bone”: describes the protagonist’s immediate emotional reaction to learning her son has joined up; “Skin” describes how flustered and shaken the protagonist feels a few days, her routines overset; “Muscle” describes the son’s send off and the strain being strong places on the protagonist. The story is set in England in 1939, during the early days of World War II.
The bucket of cut flowers was hastily dropped by the back door as Lucy rushed in. She’d completely lost track of the time! She grabbed the teacloth from its hook, opened the oven door, and reached in for the cake tin. The top looked a little too dark but fortunately it wasn’t burned. Cake rescued, Lucy fished in the back of a cupboard for a rack and turned it out to cool.
Laurie did like a nice Victoria sponge. He was due back today. At first he’d said he would arrive by the midday train but he’d rung yesterday to explain he was catching a lift with Mr Moss and wouldn’t arrive before tea time. Lucy had been putting the extra time to good use, making sure the house had those extra touches that made it welcoming.
A large crystal vase that had been a wedding present years ago from a distant relative and another smaller vase (ordinary pottery this time) were pulled from their hiding places at the back of one shelf in the pantry. Lucy took great care as she cut the ends from flower stems with a sharp knife (not scissors - no never scissors which could crush them), before arranging them in a lovely display. The tall mauve Michaelmas daisies were joined by pale pink phlox in the bigger vase and put on the mantel in the sitting room. It was a formal room with a window overlooked by an elder tree, which meant it was rather dark, even on a sunny day. The flowers would help to brighten it.
The little bouquet she carried up to Laurie’s bedroom. His window faced west which meant it caught the afternoon sun. In spring the lilac bush bloomed just below his window. Now he had a good view of the roses. She had added a yellow rosebud to his vase, along with a few Shasta daisies, and the last yellow poppy. At the door on her way out, Lucy paused to cast her eye over the room. It looked cheery and inviting.
Downstairs once more she carefully sliced through the middle of the sponge, before placing the base on a cake plate. A dollop of raspberry jam was spooned over the base. It took time and effort to whip the cream, even though she had those marvellous rotary beaters her cousin Olive had given her last Christmas, but at last it was stiff and she spread it over the base and added the top half of cake to the sandwich. A thin powdering of sugar completed the special welcome home cake. Lucy pushed it well to the back of the counter, out of harm’s way. Next bread was sliced thinly and salmon and shrimp paste applied to make sandwiches. A damp teacloth was wrapped round the plate of sandwiches to keep them from drying out.
It was almost four o’clock when Lucy went upstairs to freshen her appearance. She felt a little flushed from rushing round and splashed some water on her face and neck. It only took a moment to slip into her second best tweed skirt, change her blouse, and put a comb through her hair. She made it to the top of the stairs just in time to see Laurie come through the front door.
“Mum! I’m home!” he called. “No, down boy!” He pushed at the excited dog, who had come in from the garden when he opened the door, and now was bouncing round him. “Mum, are you home?” Laurie had dropped his duffel and now was bent over his dog, patting him.
Lucy hesitated on the landing, one white knuckled hand clutching the handrail, while the other was pressed against her throat. She could feel the pulse in her neck beating rapidly with shock. Laurie was in uniform.