Moss on a rolling stone

Fran O'Donovan. Former wartime nurse. Currently a nurse at St. Michael’s.

[vivatregiina-blog]

      Evelyn managed a small smile as Fran explained her predicament and in earnest - she understood. The blonde herself wouldn’t mind if she never set foot in a hospital again, but she knew she would have to do something. What that might however, was another story all together; thoughts had been spared here and there during her captivity, over what she would do if she ever returned to civilian life, but most of them had been cast asunder nearly as quickly as they came - it did no good to fathom what if’s or to dwell on wishful thinking. “ At least you would have no one shooting at you now.” A small burst of humour sweetened the reminiscent air around them, “ but then again, maybe it will do us all some good to have our feet planted upon firm ground for a while.” Evelyn knew that it would undoubtedly do her some good. 

A gentle chortle sounded as she recalled the stick forts of yesteryear, a youth so often happily recalled within ones memory. “ Oh blimey, stick forts - do you recall that one summer where we made one beside the stream in Old Wood? I do believe we spent our entire summer in there.” 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran managed a chuckle. “Yes. Can’t say I really know what it’s like a proper hospital. Sometimes we’d show up to places and they wouldn’t even have any rubbing alcohol.” She shook her head, smiling. “I’m surprised anyone slept in those old tin cans we called beds. Fran nodded in agreement. To spend time in one place with one simple job was still alien to her. She hoped in time waking up in her own bed wouldn’t be a surprise... maybe once things were settled and normal her boring life would just be her life. To be satisfied in her safe job and rest up in her sleep house was all she should want. And yet...

“See now how was it that that one held up so well?” She laughed along with Evelyn. “That one was perfect. Great for mid-afternoon naps and tea parties...” Her eyes wandered to the sky as they reminisced. “Whatever happened to it? You think it’s still there? Maybe we should have become engineers.”

[infuriiate]

Glenn slowly felt more at ease as he finally figured out what she actually did, career wise. He never much liked to be at a disadvantage, conversation-wise, it was mainly the not knowing that ate away at him. Of course people were entitled to have their own secrets, lives and privacy, it was their right after all. However, her being a nurse was something he admired, for it usually meant that the person had gotten a degree of some sorts, something he had never achieved himself, why? He didn’t know exactly, perhaps it had to do with the fact that he never had any particular idea of what kind of job he wished to do before the war. ‘’Admirable…Isn’t The College prone to diseases? You know, with so many people living there.’’

Inside the shop Glenn took off his hat and tried to get rid of the water that had creeped into the fabric, an impossible task at best. Figuring he would still need to get back into the rain, he simply put his hat on the table next to her file, hoping it would at least dry a little bit. His coat he didn’t even get started on. Checking on his bread if it was still dry, relieved when it was, he looked up as she mentioned the bread. ‘’Good, i’m sure there will be a few other things left,’’ When she mentioned if they were still baking, Glenn simply shook his head. ‘’I highly doubt it, considering we’re nearing closing time.’’

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“Well, yes. All it takes is one of them to catch a cold and the next thing you know four more boys have it...” She licked her lips. “It’s the same with families or in the military. Anytime you have people in such close quarters disease is bound to spread. Luckily we haven’t had an outbreak yet. But it is just the beginning of flu season.” Fran sighed, almost disappointed that there hadn’t been any signs of the flu or even a wave of the sniffles. “Most days I just have students coming in with scrapes and headaches...” she admitted. There were many days she just stared at the wall in her office. Sad as that was.

Hands still wrapped around her hair Fran’s eyes grew in surprise. “Is it already that late? Here I thought I was making good time....” She fluffed up her jacket shaking off a bit of rain. “Well, at least they still have some things left over. Even just a muffin would be satisfying. Especially with the rain.” She felt her cheeks flush, perhaps from the shift in temperature. Even if the ovens weren’t going it was still much warmer inside the shop than outside. “I-I always like a little snack when it rains. Especially with tea.” It felt rather childish to her but she did keep some biscuits in her desk just in case of a rain storm. Which in Clearwater was more common than in most places. 

[carterdewhurst-deactivated20170]

“Man goes insane, but nature continues” he was speaking more to himself then to her. But he had seen that happen, his father had told him stories of his time in the Great War, and the same thing was true, nature always carried on, no matter what humans did. “Home is home, suppose it’s the memories that make it like that” maybe that was why he couldn’t stay in London. 

“I’ve noticed, it’s everywhere” it was almost worse then the war itself, he hadn’t expected anything to be worse, but everyone was dancing around each other. It was then he realised what his discomfort here was. There was no eye contact, she seemed to be trying to look at anyone else. He’d seen it before, but never in what was supposed to be a peaceful town. He glanced down at Cathy, well at least she had stopped shaking, but he did wonder what had happened with eye contact when he first met her. He’d never thought about it before, but maybe it had been a problem. 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran raised her brows at his statement. “I... yes I suppose. I never found nature maddening. Comforting more so. Like a green blanket over everything. Though most places aren’t as green as they are here. Or have as blue waters. I suppose that’s what makes Clearwater home as well. The colors here just seem better somehow.” She closed her mouth, lips pressing together. “I’m rambling,” she shook her head.

 “I suppose it all just spreads. The melancholy of it all. If that’s what it is. I’m not sure if there is an English word for whatever it is.”

[montgomerywilliam-blog]

William hesitated when she didn’t smile – had he said something offensive? Or was she just that uncomfortable around him? Her calling him “professor” seemed to make the answer quite obvious. He cleared his throat, “Just call me Wiliam.” He paused before offering another smile. Maybe she was acting strange around him because of Camilla. Perhaps she’d told her friend something about him that made her uncomfortable?

He nodded. “Well, I guess that’s good.” William could only imagine the change of pace between, say, a hospital and the school. As far as he knew, students rarely visited the nurse for very serious things – usually just colds and maybe the flu. He figured they mostly had to have a nurse because of some requirement. “Do you enjoy working with the students, though?”

“Students have actually told me that before,” William confessed. “I guess it depends a lot on the professor. I like to think I make history interesting, but I’ll let them be the judge of that.” He shrugged, “When I used to teach lower level classes, many of my students didn’t see why we study history at all. It’s not as practical as studying science and medicine.” He smiled and nodded, “I definitely agree. Most things are better in the form of a story. Easier to remember, too.”

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“Alright, William...” She bit her lip before adding. “I rather prefer people call me by my first name as well. Never liked Nurse O’Donovan much...” The title nurse she held onto with pride but such a formal title didn’t really suit her. She wanted to make her patients feel at ease, not like they were talking to a commander. Still, it was common for soldiers to just call her nurse O’Donovan, or sometimes just one of those titles. There weren’t any other O’Donovan’s in the hospitals.

She nodded. “Yes, I do. The students are very polite and some of them even take an interest in my nursing. Want to be doctors they say.” Fran didn’t consider herself a teacher but there was no harm in letting a boy watch his friend get patched up after a football game. She herself learned by watching and doing with her own hands. Sometimes the boys were even surprised with everything she knew. Fran explained she did almost everything a doctor did save for surgery. “It’s nice to see them being so spry and excited. I never looked like that when I was in school.”

Her head fell to the side. She looked at him for once. “Maybe I would have liked your history class then.” Her eyes fell down again to his shirt collar. “Then again maybe not. I was never a fan of all the reading and essay writing... the college seems to have lots of that.”

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Sorry, I haven’t been on much it’s midterm week so I’ve just been screaming for the past few days. Hopefully, when things calm down I’ll be back on :)

[vivatregiina-blog]

              The admission surprised Evelyn somewhat, her mind wondering if everyone in town had learned of her ordeal and if so how. Then again what could she truly expect? Clearwater was her home, everyone knew everyone, you couldn’t even walk a couple of yards down the high-street without bumping into a pal or acquaintance - there would be no anonymity here. A sullen glance turned from the woman beside her, her chest deflated as a sigh parted her lips, “ no, neither did I.” 

All that nonsense didn’t matter anymore however, she was home and she was safe - the little blessings in life meant the most. “At the college?“ A small smiled formed at the corners of her lips, “doing what exactly?” Evelyn was naturally inquisitive about her friends life post-war, even her experiences during seeing as they had joined the corps around the same time, although if she remembered correctly, Fran had gone to Europe. “ It was…pleasant enough, at least this time one did not have to fret over U-boats.” A chuckle trailed as she recalled her initial deployment to Hong Kong. “ Although I would not be again never having to step foot on a boat again.” 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“I’m the campus nurse...” she explained. She forced herself to look at Evelyn as if nothing had changed as if they were indeed just school girls sitting on the hill after a long day of fractions. But it was difficult considering... “I didn’t want my training to go to waste but hospitals can get... overwhelming.” Evelyn was the first person to hear her admission. Not even a priest or her family knew she couldn’t bring herself to work alongside rows of filled hospital beds, taking blood samples and shutting the lids over dead eyes. Fran opened her mouth to say something more but faltered, lips flapping like gull wings. Giving in she looked at the faded wood of the bench. “I’ve had enough of hospitals.”

Fran pulled her knees up to her chest, her shoes resting on the edge of the bench. She might as well sit like a child while she was at it. “I just dreaded those tractors. Hope those never get into style...” She sighed. ‘U-boats.... we had to worry about tanks. And bombings of course but we all did. Even in London.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’d ever want to go up in a plane either. They always looked so shaky when they landed. Reminded me of those stick forts made in the forest that would fall apart with a little wind.”

[ireneayre-deactivated20180514]

The war, if anything, had made Irene throw herself more into her work. It was nothing like the first time around. Back then, she’d been too young and too oblivious to think much about the war at all. In her grand family home, surrounded by men too old and too important to fight, none of it really seemed real. Of course, the impact it had on her life had gone largely unnoticed– she was much too selfish to care in her youth. Now, in her own little house near the coast, as an much older, wiser woman, the effect had been devastating. She’d seen friends and their husbands move away, some dead, some injured beyond repair. She’d watched mothers mourn the loss of their sons. It almost made her want to kick her younger self. How had she grown up avoiding it all? Then she started to write more. It all made sense; she had needed an escape.

“Personally, I think poetry can be very beautiful, and there are plenty of wonderful poets in the world– but I don’t think it is quite ready for me yet.” Irene laughed softly, a slightly raspy sound from her smoker’s lungs, but joyful all the same. “I think the problem is that men don’t seem to know all that much about romance. That’s why they’ll turn their nose up at even the most breathtaking sonnets.”

Marriage was a slightly touchy subject in Irene’s case, but she decided to indulge Fran anyway. It was a shame how much women seemed to rely on it. She would never find herself walking down the isle– not unless she found herself suddenly cured, or the law miraculously changed to suit her– and in truth, found the whole idea slightly off-putting. “Oh really?” Her eyes danced as she asked, “Who else would you prefer?”

Irene smiled to herself as she busied her hands with picking up a couple of pages that had gotten caught on someone’s gate. “Actually, I prefer to use my initials on my books. My first publisher thought that I’d do better if the public didn’t know I was a woman, and it sort of stuck. Half of the fan letters I receive start with ‘Dear Mr Ayre’. Tragic, isn’t it?” Sometimes she thought about how much easier her life would have been if she was a man. It’d certainly solve a lot of her problems.

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran’s head fell to the side as Irene explained the ins and outs of poetry. She always liked hearing people talk about their passions even if they were much different from her own. It had been comforting during the war to sit and talk about horseback riding or swimming or whatever it was that made a person’s heart flutter. It was also something she took for granted before the war... not even the actions itself but having time to think about it, to mull over the next day’s activities. During the war thinking of the next day could drive someone mad, unless the next day brought new rations or the end of soldiers tour.

Though she was a novice with books and the like Fran nodded when Irene mentioned romance. “Oh, I agree. When men write it, nothing feels right. The women always seem so disinterested even in the end.” her nose crinkled as if she smelled something foul. “Perhaps that’s close minded of me but... well like I said I haven’t read much.” She smacked her lips thinking over the dapper characters from her old books. “I always thought Mr. Bingley was charming... and Mr. John Thornton I liked by the end of it.” She chuckled, looking down at the ground. “Truth be told I’ve never been good at finding what exactly I like about a person. Seem to be much worse at it when it comes to characters.”

Fran’s eyes grew big. “Really? So... most people who read your books think you’re a man?” Her lips curled in an unattractive way. In school, her teacher said Wuthering Heights was published under a male pen name. It was much the same for the other Brontë sisters. “I thought that died out with the bustle,” she murmured. 

[carterdewhurst-deactivated20170]

Maybe he should stop. Cathy was right there and she didn’t need to hear all of this. But she didn’t really seem to be listening. In fact he wasn’t sure she’d even understand all the words. That was a plus at least, she was young and she’d forget it all.

“Always does in the end” and there was nothing left of his home. It was all gone and he just couldn’t comprehend how that was even possible. But this was reality now, and he had to remember that this place was meant to be his him. “And now, what is the same?” everything he had seen showed that this place was different as well, he couldn’t really figure it out. Maybe it was because he didn’t know what the town was like beforehand. Maybe people had changed to, but no one seemed to willing to admit to that. 

“Happy enough” could he even manage happiness now? He wasn’t sure, it seemed impossible. “Douglas Turner” well there was no reason he coulldn’t try and be polite now, even if he had failed the rest of the conversation. 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“There are still the hills,” Fran replied a bit of pep in her voice. “Lots of places you can sit and look out over the water. All the places I used to play as a child. Maybe that’s why even with all the new Clearwater still feels like home...” While she genuinely believed that there was a tiny voice in her head that told her no, Clearwater was no longer home. She just simply had nowhere else to go. Those thoughts always had a way to getting to her, like a cat’s claw just scraping her skin. 

She nodded. “I think we all feel that way.” It was impossible to deny the haze that hung over Clearwater, but it was everywhere. War never really ended. “It’s nice to meet you, Douglas.” She did manage a smile even if their conversation had been far from pleasant. Working with difficult people was part of her job as a nurse, and out here she didn’t have to stick him with needles or make sure he cooperated. Easy really. Though she still couldn’t bring herself to look him directly in the eye, opting for his shoulder or shirt collar instead, She had stopped looking at his daughter. She knew what it was like to be a shy child-- not much of a surprise there.

[burkcesq]

He mentally chastised himself for the undoubtedly exaggerated look of surprise that crossed his features. It was close-minded of him to have automatically assumed that no one in the town would have even the smallest understanding of the French language; after all it was likely they had spent time in the country, even if it was a somewhat more somber occasion than any would’ve liked. “There’s no need to apologise… I - it means something similar to, ah, ‘it’s raining like a… pissing cow.’” His teeth worried his bottom lip, Nicolas’ cheeks dusting a light pink ( perhaps he could blame it on the cool air. ) “It’s a common phrase in response to weather this; I think it would be equal to ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’, I’ve heard that repeated several times this morning, even if I’m not certain I understand the correlation.” 

Considering her comments for a moment, the young doctor returned his gaze to the miserable weather. “It would appear to be that way, unfortunately. Mais, I am certain that my bag will survive the rain, it has done thus far. To Clearwater General, I have some paperwork to return but there is no deadline. The college is in the same direction, is it not? … Regardless, I insist.” Nicolas stepped closer, slinging the bag from his shoulder to open and offer her out. “Please, I will accompany you to the college and then be out of your way, Mademoiselle.” 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“Oh...” Fran blinked. “I was never the best with phrases,” she admitted. “Better conversationalist is what everyone said... terrible at giving directions or anything like that.” To be expected her French was quite proper, always speaking to people as if they were her boss or some other force. Eventually, she got better with casual French just from hearing it being spoken to her. Though she often defaulted to what she learned in her government issued booklet. Besides she had spoken mostly with doctors who she felt deserved respect, especially during wartime. 

With such a brief glance at the man’s face, it was hard to see his pink cheeks. Even harder to tell if he just had a reddish face or had been out all day in the chill air. “Yes, that’s how we say the weather is bad. I’m not sure why we phrase it like that... I suppose the French version makes more sense visually even if it is a bit crude.” For a romance language, the French could be creative with profanity. Lots of un putain and pute, though they were usually shouted at nurses forcing needles into the skin so maybe that colored their insults. 

“It’s a little ways off...” Fran corrected. “But nothing in Clearwater is too far from the other.” She bit the inside of her lip considering his offer. If they were seen together what would people think? Or what would he think if she accepted his offer? As kind as he seemed Fran was always bad at recognizing ulterior motives. But even if that was the case she didn’t want to stop talking to him... not quite yet. Fran slipped her file into his open bag. “Merci beaucoup.” Her file now safe she looked up, getting her first good look at his face. “Je m’appelle une infirmière O’Donovan. But, please just call me Fran.” Old habits, not matter how circumstantial, did indeed died hard. 

[infuriiate]

Glenn shook her hands-putting out his cigarette before he did-as she had taken both of his for a brief moment and nodded in understanding as she at first did not appear to remember him. But how could she when they had never interacted all that much. Maybe the difference in age was what had caused them to walk past each other before the war. Perhaps the war had changed people to such an extent that previous contacts, friends, relations and acquaintances no longer were on the forefront of their minds. Something Glenn would not blame them for, he himself merely remembered because his life after the war wasn’t quite as hectic and exciting as his job had been, causing him to look for excitement elsewhere. Not that everyone in Port Clearwater had been friends before the war, since the town beside its size often felt rather large. 

Having glanced briefly at the file in Fran’s hands, he guessed she must have a job in the city centre, which was why he probably hadn’t seen her since he got back. ‘’The College…are you a teacher?’’ Glenn asked hesitantly, not liking the fact that he did not know the most basic of information about her, as he usually did, it made conversations easier. It was not that he minded an insult every once and a while but being hated by the already small population of Port Clearwater was far from ideal and not something Glenn strived to.

As Fran opened the door for him he entered the bakery but did remember to hold open the door from the inside with one arm against the wind that had picked up. Doors, he knew from experience, could be unpredictable. ‘’I must warn you though, if it is bread you’re meaning to buy, there might be none left.’’

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran shook her head. “No. I’m just the campus nurse.” That was really all she could tell him. Not because of any sort of confidentiality with the college but because there was nothing else to tell. She sat on campus waiting for someone to get ill or need something for a headache. Sometimes a game of football would get rough and she’d have to bandage some boys up but that was considered a hectic day. Maybe she should be grateful for such an easy job after four years running around with other people’s blood under her fingernails. Though that was probably the reason the job felt so boring to her.

Stepping inside the shop she set the file down on a corner table before running her fingers through her wet hair. She scrunched up the hair pinned down to her scalp, trying to dry off just a touch. “I’m good with bread. Have about half a loaf at home.” Most days all she ate at home was toast for breakfast. Most people would probably look at her cabinets and worry she was starving but really she just preferred to find food elsewhere.  

She glanced down at the floor. “Though I do hope they’re baking something. The shop is always so warm when there is something baking.” She wrapped her arms around herself. The last thing she needed was a cold. 

[carterdewhurst-deactivated20170]

“What’s left of it anyway” he was all too aware that there was bitterness in his voice, but he couldn’t help that, and he wouldn’t apologise either. “I hope so. Suppose storms aren’t dangerous”. 

Ok definitely rude, he probably should work on that, but he didn’t have the energy. Easier to push people away anyway. “Well if you know the town then you are likely to know who is new here and who isn’t. Besides, that was hardly offensive” oh he should stop. He was not handling this well. But he couldn’t see why it would matter that he was new, did people really get offended over that? His temper was short, but that was more to do with the crutch or difficult questions. Not this, he needed to calm down. 

“I wouldn’t know, didn’t really live in the city recently” he pointed out, well that was hardly a secret, he just didn’t want to be more specific with Cathy there. “World was turned upside down, I doubt anywhere is the same as it was ten years ago” was that good or bad? He couldn’t tell. 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. Her sister was now living in London despite all the rubble. Thank God she wasn’t living there during the war, but was London really any safer? It was hard to think of the world ever being safe again after everything but at least in Clearwater that danger felt far away. Out at sea or a train ride away. 

“Yes, everything is bound to change. As foolish as it is I just never expected it to happen to my home.” She looked down at the ground, composing herself for a moment. Whoever this man was he was a pain to make out. Prickly but clearly having some kindness-- towards his daughter at least. Fran thought that was a good sign of character, how people treated their children. She’d seen plenty of parents push their children out into the world, not offering them a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on. Even her sister thought there was some merit to this kind of parenting. Where she got that in her head Fran had no idea. Their parents had always been the type to give a helping hand.

She looked up, meeting the man’s eyes for a brief second before darting down to his shoulder. Maybe if she looked longer into his eyes she would have a better idea of his character, but Fran couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Still I hope you are happy here. I should have mentioned, my name is Fran O’Donovan.”

[burkcesq]

Nicolas was unbelievably glad he’d managed to dissuade Sébastien from tagging along on the day’s home visits. He preferred working in the hospital; it was a far more controlled environment, but the young doctor was more than happy to partake in the personal visits. Not simply because by the end of the day he was better fed than he had been in his entire life, though he was beginning to get a little sick of all the tea. The rain had started on his way back to the hospital, but he was still too far away to be able to dash back in without drenching the ward floors in his wake and wet floors were a recipe for disaster.

So, to avoid any accidents the Frenchman ran instead under the nearest shop awning, muttering to himself ‘il pleut comme vache qui pisse’ only to hastily silence himself the moment he realised he was not alone under the temporary shelter. Nicolas offered a bright smile, lifting a hand to brush dripping blond hair out of his face. Without so much as a word, he swung the bag on his shoulder forward, taking out a lighter jacket he had taken to carrying around to offer out to her. “Mademoiselle; it won’t do much in the way of keeping you dry, but it might prevent you from getting a chill. Would you like any assistance with your file? I could put it in my bag, it would keep it dry.” 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Still shivering from the rain Fran didn’t even turn her head to speak to the man. “Comment?” The word fell from her lips like the drops of rain off her skin. Fran hadn’t even realized she’d responded in French till a few seconds later. “I’m, I’m sorry,” she stammered, “what was that you said?” After months of living in a war-torn Paris trying her best to communicate with French doctors and civilians responding with the little French she truly knew just... happened. Perhaps she should have been better at the language as a whole, having been briefly married to a French soldier. That fact haunted her the entire stay in France. 

Fran sighed, overwhelmed with the man’s offer. “Please, you don’t need to do all that. I need to get back to the college you see? It’s quite a walk and I would hate to get your bag wet. I ah...” She looked back out into the rain. “I don’t suppose this will be stopping anytime soon...” She bit her lip. Fran turned to the man, eyes glued to his shirt collar. “Where is it that you are heading? Perhaps we have similar paths?” She hated to drench him in her own problems. Still, his offer was tempting and as small as it was his notable accent was... painful in some ways but intriguing in others. How did a French man end up in a small town like Clearwater after the war?

[infuriiate]

Glenn chuckled as Fran appeared to be quite startled by him being there, as if it wasn’t a normal occurence; people coming out of the shops they had visited, especially when one sought shelter in front of them. Taking another drag of his cigarette he followed her gaze to the pouring rain that was instead of improving as he had slightly hoped it would, it was only getting worse. As for offering help, Glenn could always offer his jacket, but if that would be such a wise idea he would not know, because if he did, he himself would most likely catch a cold from walking in the rain, back home, to the pub or worse. 

Gazing about him to fix the current predicament they were in, he looked back at the bakery he had just come out of. If Emily was still there and not closing up shop just yet, they might be able to ask her for an umbrella, or temporary shelter, for if the weather was getting any worse, standing dry underneath the small roof in front of the shop wouldn’t be of much use anymore. Not being quite sure if Fran even remembered him from years before, he decided to simply re-introduce himself. Turning back to her he put his hand out for her to shake, noticing she had been looking at his shoes instead of straight at him. ‘’Glenn Heller, just moved back.’’ Looking back for a split second at the shop behind him he decided to share his plan with her, ‘’The Bakery is still open behind us, Emily might have an umbrella or two to borrow.’’

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran blinked as he introduced himself. Had she met him? How could she forget? Then again maybe they only met in passing... still, she always thought herself as having a good memory-- especially with faces and names. Mind still racing she took his hands. “Fran O’Donovan I... well I suppose I just moved back as well.” It had been a couple months now but it must have been that way for everyone who got caught up in the war. It wasn’t as if the Germans surrendered and everyone was given a one-way ticket back to London. There were still things to be done, even more work now that trucks could get around with ease as opposed to using back roads and the cover of night. Even with all the work she and the other nurses were given they couldn’t complain while being driven down paved roads wearing sunglasses and having the wind blow through their hair. It was their first taste of normalcy in years.

She looked back and forth between his hand and the bakery. “Ah-- she might. I hope she wouldn’t mind me taking something up to the college... I come here almost every day. Shouldn’t be too hard to give the umbrella back to her.” She pursed her lips realizing she’d be thinking aloud. Letting go of his hands she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open for him. “A-after you.”

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

I gotta run to do some stuff for school but hopefully I’ll be on later tonight for replies!!

[carterdewhurst-deactivated20170]

“I am aware. This isn’t shyness though, it’s fear” he could almost feel her shaking, and he squeezed the little girl’s hand gently, hoping that she’d realise she wasn’t in any danger. He had been shy when he was younger, luckily he had grown out of it. He was just quiet now, easier to keep to yourself when you were scared of what you had become.

“Better than London. Safer to, I hope” maybe that was selfish, but he couldn’t watch anything happen to her that would put her in pain. Everyone had suffered so much already, surely a child shouldn’t now have to, else what were they fighting for? Still at least she had stopped shaking, but she was still hiding. Baby steps. “How was any of that rude?” and now he was being rude, well that was his natural state. “You are right though, we are new around here”. 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

“Yes, I heard the cities can be dangerous now. I know London is quite a mess. I do hope that changes soon...” She managed a smile. “Hopefully soon she’ll see she has nothing to fear out here. Save for the occasional storm.”

Her mouth fell agape. She stammered for a moment before responding. “Some people don’t like to be assumed. That is to say, I should have asked you where you were from before I said you must be new here.” Fran hadn’t considered herself very sensitive to those sorts of things before she left Clearwater for the war. Though even then she thought everyone’s brash nature had more to do with what was going on around them than their actual personality. She was sure even she could be rough at times, especially when the hospital was filling up with injured men. Even worse when civilians would have to be carried in.

“I hope you like it here so far? I know it’s quite different from the city. Though there is a lot more life than there used to be. New shops and faces every day. Sometimes it feels like I’ve moved away from my old childhood home.” She bit her lip. “It was bound to happen I suppose...” Especially when she had been gone for so long. Four years didn’t seem like much until you looked up and saw how much of a difference it really made.

[carterdewhurst-deactivated20170]

Oh he could see the look in her eye, the look of surprise that it was the father not the mother who was alive. He agreed with it really, it should be her mother. Then again that might be unfair to the woman in front of him, he had no proof that she thought anything along those lines. She was a stranger, and he was judging people on the standards he had known in London, something that probably wasn’t all that fair, though was anything fair now?

“Not sure it’s the streets” he muttered, wishing once again he knew what happened when she had been evacuated. “Four, almost five” oh there was another run reminder that he didn’t need, he actually had no idea when her actual birthday was. Just more reasons why he didn’t want everyone knowing he was her father, she didn’t need people giving her pity because of who her father was. 

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran pursed her lips, catching his quick remark. “Oh, well most children are shy at this age...” She started to pick at her fingernails. Here she was teasing a child for her sheepishness when most everyone knew her as the shy one. Maybe that’s why she didn’t see a problem with the young girl hiding behind her father. Fran didn’t have a leg or tree to stand behind like some school girl, but she sometimes wished she did. Save for quick glances she didn’t look many people in the eye, old friends and family members sure, but never the many strangers that came to Clearwater.  

“That’s a good age,” she responded quickly. “Especially here in Clearwater. Lots of places to explore and run around in. Quiet too... nice for children who don’t like too much ruckus.” She gave the young girl a shy smile, hoping she would open up a touch. Children were easier for her. They didn’t ask much out of a person and their innocence was something Fran was rather jealous of. “I’m sorry, I assume you’re new around here. I hope I didn’t come off as... rude... I’ve lived here my entire life and I just haven’t ever seen you before,” she explained hoping she hadn’t scared him off.

[infuriiate]

Glenn stepped out of the bakery where he had gotten his bread from for the pub, the pouring rain, however, made him halt in his step and wait a few seconds to consider his options. While he was thinking of his best way to go about things he lit up a cigarette to help him on his way. It wasn’t necessarily that Glenn was bothered by the rain, for he was not, he simply could not let the bread get wet if it did he would have bought them for nothing.

Letting out a hint of smoke, he watched as people went out and about in the streets, hurrying to avoid the rain as if it would cause them to melt, smiling faintly in amusement he looked to his right to be met by one of the residents he hadn’t been much in contact with yet; Fran O’Donovan. As he evaluated her state caused by the rain he decided to speak up, even though he probably wouldn’t be of much help. ‘’Nice weather isn’t it?’’ He mentioned, pointing out with his free hand at the rain in front of them. With quite a lot of effort he spits out the next few words, ‘’Do you need any help?’’

[franfran-odonovan-blog]

Fran jumped at the unfamiliar voice. She turned to see a young man smoking casually. He must have been one of the new faces in town. New being a general term. After all, she had been born in the very same hospital across the way and while it was far off she would probably die in that hospital as well. Or perhaps not... even if she was a nurse by profession Fran would prefer to avoid hospitals for a long while. Maybe she would just time it out so she could die in her sleep in her own bed. It sounded nicer than passing on in an unfamiliar place. 

She licked her lips. “Unless you have a spare umbrella, I doubt you could be of much help.” She looked down at his shoes. “For both our sakes I hope it calms down.” As if they were part of some stage play a crack of thunder broke the cool air as more rain began to pour. Looking out into what was becoming a monsoon Fran sighed. “That’s what I get for even suggesting...” she muttered to herself. She looked down at the file in her arm, glad to see only the edges of the folder were wet. She didn’t try to open it. That was a recipe for disaster.