Open hospitality

“So, what is your name, child?” Mother Renais’ voice was cracked and deep… but warm like the rustle in early-fall leaves. She was quite a small and elderly woman, seemingly dwarfed by the tall curving form of Lucy’s angel. But she held a presence that seemed to fill up every corner of the small study-like room they were now in. The Mother was not entirely naked, like the rest of her apparent subordinates, but instead wore a long flowing dress of sorts. It was made of some kind of finely woven black mesh which drifted around her in layers, obscuring the details of her form below but allowing the pure shape of it to remain completely visible. Lucy couldn’t help but notice that, despite not quite being able to pin down the woman’s age, her body was still remarkably toned and shapely. There was little sag to her, little sign of weakness or infirmity. The older lady’s eyes twinkled as she watched her new guest making such open assessments.

“Lucy… Just- Lucy.” The street-urchin mumbled, still unsure just what she was doing in this place.

“And do you know where you are, Lucy-just-Lucy?” The girl flashed a brief glare of annoyance at such poor humor… but then shook her head a second later, embarrassed once more.

This drew a dry chuckle from wrinkled lips. “You are in a house of God, young lady… The house of God, if She’ll let me be so prideful for a moment. Here we do great works… in small chunks… one soul at a time, so to speak. We gather up a lot of lost souls... over time, in fact. They always seem to drift up upon our doorstep. Like you have. Like Sister Diane here did…”

Lucy gazed up at her beauteous angel in amazement. Surely not… surely she could never been in such a similarly sorry state as this? The spun-gold statuette smiled and nodded solemnly, as if she wanted to offer encouragement and connection… but did truly hold some hidden pain and shame there as well. No other reaction could have made Lucy so convinced. The Mother again took note of this exchanged, cogs clearly turning somewhere behind her eyes.

“So, I think you would fit in quite well here… if you wished. We could offer you a little purpose... perhaps, to your not-so-merry wanderings. At the very least we can offer you a little food, warmth and soap… to wash the streets out of your pretty hair.”

The prospect of food in itself was enough to make Lucy feel a little faint. The older woman seemed to recognise this and take it as assent. She turned to ‘Sister Diane’.

“You are the one who lured her here, sweet-pea. So she is now your responsibility. See that she receives all the kindnesses the world out there doesn’t offer. I think this might be an important stage in your journey too… Your bunk is hers, too, for the time being. I expect to see her looking a lot more fed and perky tomorrow morning.”

And with that… they were dismissed. Sent back out into that long, winding corridor with indeed new purposes to follow… at least for the immediate moment. Lucy was still not sure if she was dreaming. But, as they turned a few more bends, the wafting smell of hot stew made her care very little whether she was or wasn’t.