“At least you have clothes,” a woman standing nearby said. Her bunk had been at the opposite end from us and everything she’d owned was gone.
“We can share,” another woman said and the rest of us nodded. “Until you can buy some new stuff.”
As the two wandered off and Char went in search of more of her dresses, I sat on the edge of the wood platform and unzipped my duffel, feeling around for the small, hidden pocket inside and the photograph tucked in its folds. Making sure no one was watching, I carefully pulled it free and stared down first at the young girl looking back at me, then at the name written on the back.
Catrin.
“Kate?”
I inhaled and tucked the picture back inside.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning to see Paulette and Tilly standing nearby.
“You okay?” Tilly asked, a wisp of blond hair stuck to her cheek.
I jumped back onto the platform and joined them.
“I’m good. Shall we help gather what’s left?” I asked, leaning down to pick up someone’s wet nightgown and a shoe.
We ate dinner as we always did, side by side with the men, each of us experiencing a new kind of weariness in addition to what we normally felt. I smiled at Tilly, who’d fallen asleep where she sat across the table from me, her head propped on her hand.
Afterward, with extra bedding supplies brought in from the men, we made ourselves as comfortable as we could on one side of the mess hall, our belongings in a dirty pile in the corner.
“Sweet dreams, ladies,” Paulette said, her head resting on a balled-up jacket.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” someone called out in the dark.
The rest of us laughed, and then one by one the exhaustion of the day caught up with us, our breathing slowing until we were fast asleep.
We woke the following morning to the smell of coffee being brewed and breakfast cooking.
“I could get used to this,” Char said from beside me. “Think they’ll let me bunk in here permanently?”
I grinned, my eyes still closed. It had been months since I’d woken to the scent of brewing coffee and food being prepared. My aunt and uncle had started every morning with a large, leisurely breakfast.
“There’s no better way to start a day,” my aunt Victoria had said to me the first morning I’d woken in their home with them.
I’d grown used to their ways quickly, and missed them when I’d left, my new routine stark in comparison.
“Mornin’, ladies,” a male voice said, leading to several squeals of embarrassment at the state we were probably all in, and irritation at being bothered at all after a night on the hard floor.
I opened an eye to see Mac, hands on hips, looking quite satisfied with his position standing before us in all his clean-clothed glory.
“What do you want?” I asked, not in the mood for his overbearing charm after barely getting any sleep.
“I am happy to inform you all that a new barracks is being erected at this very moment, and bunks are being assembled.”
“Oh, thank god,” Paulette mumbled.
“Are there mattresses for those bunks?”
“What about clothes? I lost everything.”
“I don’t have any shoes!”
“Hey!” Mac said, backing away, raising his hands as if by doing so he could ward off the questions being thrown his way. “I just came with news of lodging. I don’t know about the rest of it. Except the mattresses. Everyone will have a mattress.”
“What about mosquito netting?”
