It was September 1917, three men sat alone in the trenches with their comrades. The piercing sounds of explosions, shots and people wandering about made it seem almost normal. But it was their battalion that had been waiting for their go ahead to conquer what others were trying to achieve. Several days they had waited there and it was a real shame when they had heard the battalion before them that mostly all of them had been killed. John was tapping his pencil thinking of what to write his mother. She had been sending her son photos of women. Hoping that if and when he would come home that he would start dating, start a family and make a life for himself. So far she had sent him three possible debutantes they were all beautiful, but only one had caught his eye. He had seen the photo so many times and so had his friends Private Jonathan Gates and Private James Lewis.
Scribbling on the paper, he wrote just a few short lines put it in an envelope and sealed it. James seen him crush the envelope into his pocket. "So what did you write her this time?" He spoke out.
"Well if you must know, I wrote to mum on my decision about her latest request if I should make it home alive." John was making a face.
"And?" James waited for his reply.
"I told her yes I would love to meet the young lady she chose." John put his pencil in his jacket.
"She is cute, but I like the other Leslie. They are all sisters aren't they?" James asked him.
"Yes, Leslie, Stella and Patrice." John put his hat right on.
"We should meet these girls. Your mother has good taste, but do they even know who you are?" James looked at him weirdly.
"Hmm don't know probably not. Stella is a beauty. If we make it out of here alive I am gonna marry her." He smiled as the messenger came by holding his hand up as he took the letter out of his pocket. "Got one for you." John said.
The guy nodded and took the letter putting it into his pouch. The letter would arrive weeks later to his mother in England. But his mother was already making preparations for a meeting with the girls. She was anxious to get her son with the Irvington's. They were a new group of rich people that had just entered the neighborhood. Her son, John was very important to her and she often pushed his photo at the girls seeing which one would take a liking to him even though none of them did.
Stella was brushing her long blonde hair, it had made her look innocent and of Patrice and Leslie she was the youngest. Stella loved reading books, she remembered when she first encountered John's mother. The photo of him was intriguing yet she didn't know why she could sense she wouldn't like him. It was not because of his looks as he was rather nice on the eyes, but the intensity of his portrait had made her cringe.
Patrice came in she was the middle child, she hadn't liked the men she had been meeting. But her sister Stella hadn't been interested in any at all.
"Ah sister, there you are. I was rather in a dull mood as you had not come down to entertain us with your reading this morning." Patrice sat on her bed.
"Patrice, the picture of the young soldier that Mrs. Kipling sent what do you think of him?" Stella turned to her sister.
"Definitely not my type Stella. May be good for one thing but definitely not for me." Patrice pulled at her stocking.
"Ahh I think he's handsome and looks like he'd be a rather proper husband. Not the filth we see. I want to meet him." Stella got up from the chair.
"I think someone has an admiration to the male species. About bloody time, for a minute there I thought you were dead inside dear sister." Patrice went to the mirror.
"Definitely not dead, but I am intrigued." She giggled.
"Ahh well let's hope he is not a dead bore when he comes back from the war. Otherwise he will be no fun at all." Patrice hitched up the front of her dress.
"Is breakfast all done?" Stella pinned up her hair.
"Yes, but do eat or mother will have a fit for your dieting. She thinks your a bit frail." Patrice turned to her sister.
"I'm not frail just petite." Stella said as she walked down to breakfast.