Echoes
Echoes
“Chrissie’s clothes smelled of sweat; she always had stockings rolled up and stuffed into shoes. The dressing table was covered with spilled powder and hair clips and combs with tufts of Chrissie’s curly hair caught in the teeth. She used Clare’s bed as a place to store her clothes and only very grudgingly removed them when the occupant returned from boarding school at the end of term.
Clare thought almost nostalgically of her small clean white bed in the dormitory, of the chair where her unifor...m lay neatly waiting for the morrow, with the stockings folded on top like a cross. It was always nice and airy in the dormitory, freezing sometimes, actually, but there was never that close smell of bodies that you had sharing a room with Chrissie. Worst of all were the blood-spattered white coats. It had never been defined who was to wash these coats and where the washing was to be done, but while it was in dispute two or more of them often festered on the floor. Clare would hide them under other garments so that she didn’t have to speculate what part of what dead animal had bled over Chrissie’s middle.MoreLess
Clare thought almost nostalgically of her small clean white bed in the dormitory, of the chair where her unifor...m lay neatly waiting for the morrow, with the stockings folded on top like a cross. It was always nice and airy in the dormitory, freezing sometimes, actually, but there was never that close smell of bodies that you had sharing a room with Chrissie. Worst of all were the blood-spattered white coats. It had never been defined who was to wash these coats and where the washing was to be done, but while it was in dispute two or more of them often festered on the floor. Clare would hide them under other garments so that she didn’t have to speculate what part of what dead animal had bled over Chrissie’s middle.MoreLess
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