Frances, second left and friends.
Its the end of the 1950s.
Perhaps she should get married? Maybe that would be a solution? Maybe that could be her future?
The red dress lay on the bed like an accusation, a reproach. Frances was deeply upset and confused. She walked restlessly around her bedroom.
Frances was now twenty six and the terrible years after the war were over. Wilhemina, her mother still needed to take washing in from other families in the village to make ends meet, and over the years all of her father´s carpentry tools had had to be sold, but the family had survived.
Frances has now worked for more than eight years in a hotel. She proved herself to be hardworking and reliable in the kitchen and serving at tables. She had of course learned to cook as a young girl from Wilhemina. But the boss, the daughter…
View original post 1,532 more words