Chapter Text
At present, she was alone, tiptoeing through the streets of a very damp London. The comforting buzz of crowds surrounded the damp air - but there was still an unpleasantly grainy autumn chill. Frances took in a shaky inhale as cold air filled her lungs. She planned to purchase a coffee after work, but looking up at the clock at the town hall she decided it was best that she should head home, as it was almost half past five, and the bus would surely go without her. Said bus arrived shortly after she had turned up at the station. Frances stepped clumsily into a puddle whilst hopping on, and regretted that she had worn such a delightful floral skirt that she had laundered only the previous day. She took her seat and pulled out a novel - she enjoyed reading a long book on such journeys. She looked out of the window at the large droplets of moisture that ran down the panes of blurred glass.
The journey home was bumpy - however Frances was used to the movement by now. The bus spluttered out coal-coloured smoke in a rather unhealthy manner which must have concerned a few of the passengers, noting the terror on their faces. Soon however, the bus pulled into the station and she stepped out onto the quiet street, lined with dim street lights. Standing tall in front, was her small, semi-detached house. She wandered down the path in the front garden and clicked the key in the lock. She was greeted by the familiar smell of home and began to unpack her things on the kitchen table. Leeks, cauliflower, and a lavishly patterned material, emerald and sapphire. She planned to make this into a dress, as her skills in sewing, she thought, were rather good, and it was always a good way to pass the time.
After cooking herself some tea, she lit the fire and began to recall her day. She had gone into town, which she very much enjoyed. She had fetched fresh vegetables, and material. The workers at these shops knew her fairly well, and she had had some fairly light conversations with each of them. Then she had met someone from her past - her name was Maude. She had known her since when they were at school. Frances had been invited to dinner, and she gladly obliged, feeling rather pleased with herself that she had managed to garner an invitation and more importantly, her approval. She was looking forward to this a lot, and even when she eventually headed to bed, she continued to think about her memories at school with Maude.
The next morning, Frances awoke early for her shift. It was an overcast day, and fleecy clouds gathered above. She stumbled out of bed rubbing her tired eyes, before finding some suitable clothing to wear. She settled on a homemade version of what was fashionable, which consisted of a two-piece wool suit - a green jumper and a knee length skirt. She brushed and fumbled with her hair in front of the dresser, then went downstairs to eat breakfast - two pieces of jam on bread. This was a treat, as it was so fresh and soft, and she ate it carefully, savouring the taste.
The bus was surprisingly on time, so Frances began her journey to work a little earlier than usual. The weather was still dire - there were ankle-deep puddles all along the road and occasionally, dark muddy water would splash onto the window. It was typical to have such awful weather in May, Frances pondered.
The bus arrived at the station, huffing out heavily as the engine stopped. The town was already filled with people - the market was only just setting up. After darting down a few dark alleyways, Frances found herself facing the worn antiques shop again. The bell rang as she entered through the small door at the front, next to a display of vases and books.
‘Oh! Good morning Frances. You’re certainly early.’ a short man with a silvery white moustache announced.
‘Yes. The bus was early today.’ Frances replied, shaking her umbrella.
‘Well, more time to sell, I suppose!’ he said again.
It was true that Frances liked Mr. Phillips, with his eccentric appearance and personality. He had been a friend of her father’s, who kindly offered her a job after finishing her studies. She was lucky not to be working in a factory like many of her classmates, and appreciated the familiar scent of mothballs and old books.
There were a few customers that day - so most of the time Frances spent was sorting through items at the back of the shop. At least she was meeting Maude soon. On her break, she wandered outside to light a cigarette, watching the passers by in their leather coats and expensive hats with feathers. Of course, she was grateful of her position, but often thought about what it would be like to have more money - maybe she would buy a quaint little cottage in the countryside and live there with her animals, growing crops and making bread every morning...
She snapped out of her fantasy and headed back indoors where it was warm and dry.
It was soon time for Frances to go to dinner with Maude. Frankly, she hadn’t felt this excited about seeing someone since when she was a child - her late mother had worked night shifts at a textiles factory. On the way home she felt buzzing with excitement, and considered what to wear for such a momentous occasion. In the end, she decided to bring out her best evening dress - a backless, sage-coloured gown, with little ruffled sleeves. She wore a pearl necklace too: hanging daintily on her neck that would shimmer in the evening light. Frances grabbed her purse on the way out, and headed into the town where Maude would be waiting.