My hands are sweating. I don't even have to look down to know that. I wipe them against my skirt, the perspiration creating a patch of navy on my cotton blue skirt. Normally mother would scold me for this but today she sits next to me, her eyes focused straight ahead. I look towards the door and my heart rises in my throat. I consider my options; my natural instincts tell me to flee but my rational instincts soon take charge again. I must do this; mother has put me at risk leaving me for this long already.
I think of Miriam and Elena, who would tease me for backing out now. They will get theirs done in a couple of weeks' time, being nearly a year younger than me. Now the age gap is so clear and once again I wish that their where people my age in the village. My mind begins to drift off:
The wind blows quickly, my mother stands, in a large group of women her swollen belly clearly sticking out of the shawl wrapped round her. Her face is pink, swollen ,covered in salty rivers trailing from her eyes. A procession passes by; men she has known since her child hood suddenly unrecognisable in shining armour, flags reflect in the ice sparsely covering the track. My mother gasps as he approaches, sitting slightly taller and riding with slightly more purpose than the other cavalry men. A boy rides up behind him as he stops his horse. The boy is little more than 14, but he too rides with purpose. My mother calls out to both the man and the boy, causing them to dismount. My pa is better practised on a horse than my brother, Adrian, who wriggles around before dismounting. They join my mother, the complete family, and embrace one another. But all too soon the moment is over, the procession is wearing thin now and a knight arrives to take my pa and my brother away. Tears break afresh on my mother's face, the salty droplets reaching her mouth ,as she call out her final farewells.
He takes of his helmet and blows a kiss in to the air. In this brief moment I see his blonde hair, slightly tangled in his helmet, and his blue piercing eyes, showing acute sadness at having to leave my mother behind. He has a perfect face. Of that I'm certain.
No, I'm not. He would never have blue eyes; both Adrian and I have mud brown ones. He couldn't have blonde hair either; everyone in our village is dark. And no one in our village has an unmarked face. Well, not any more.
My mother stares straight ahead, her face the epitome of calmness .One day, when the war has ended, I will take her place as the lady of our village but for now I am content to allow my emotions to spill out of me.
I think of Adrian, lying mangled at home, and how my mother has come to care for me,instead of my disabled brother. I see the Adrian of my day-dream and try to compare him to who he is now. Mother says he is recovering, but I see no change. He doesn't smile any more. Mother says he always used to play jokes on her when he was younger. Before the war.
I sit and wait my fate, nothing can be worse than his.
Time seemed to have slowed down and it is hours before a nurse exits the office. She surveys the waiting room, before heading towards mother and I.I look to my mother for guidance and as if in response to my thoughts she stands and greets the nurse like an old friend. I stand awkwardly, and wipe my hands once again on my skirt. The nurse smiles at me, a lion greeting its prey,and lead me into the next room.
