“She drove Mandria home to get her Conch”- said he. The boss in her smock, like a great angry bat loomed over Godfrey.
She sought a wayward employee. He chuckled as she griped, and jotted down the words sensing in them a story. “Twas back when I worked in the Wort Hotel Cafe’, our dishwasher oft spoke fondly of her east coast home. We worked opposite shifts but liked to share our thoughts over coffee, a good laugh or a poem.
She wrote well of her small hometown, friends lost too young, blessing the fishing fleet heading out, the cabin she loved built for her by her dad, the good, happy childhood that she had. Mandria spoke of her family with respect and dignity, and a painting promised to her one day, autumn colors on a back road up the Annapolis Valley.
She hid her light under a bushel, quite well, pausing in our prairie town, heading west, deep in her backpack wrapped in a towel she kept a Conch Shell. “Jamie drove Mandria home to fetch her Conch Shell”, explained Godfrey to the supervisor- please do not chastise her, for they have not been gone long” “She wants to set it by the dishwasher, have us all put the shell to our ear to hear it’s song. Mandria’s connection to home and hearth dear, it is her Grandfather’s Conch she’s bringing here”.
“The boss tapped her watch, still annoyed about the Conch, reported Godfrey, “came then a crash and thuds on the Wort Hotel staircase.
There Mary and Lillian, chamber maids, holding toilet brushes whacked one another across the face!!. “She chased me with the brush over how to clean a can”, cried Lillian”. “I broke my toe in the door and knocked the vacuum down the stairs as I ran”, we heard Mary yell.
In the melee’ all was forgotten, that Jamie drove Mandria home to get her Conch Shell. To this day, above the dish sink in the old Wort Hotel, there sit a Conch Shell…