Kitty and Ada- Short Stories.

2. The Punchline

It was on a cold March evening when Ada and I were to attend an army regiment dinner in Kensington. My brother Alec and his wife Cynthia picked us up by cab and we made our way to the station en-route to London with both excitement and nervous anticipation. The dinner was to be in aid of the war effort in South Africa and was to be a solemn affair since there were to be speeches in honour of the fallen men such as our very own Robert Eltree. Alec had been with Robert when he died and so he was to make a speech on behalf of all those lost. He had been wounded in war when a bullet entered his leg but he'd been one of the luckier ones and had made it home. Robert had not been so fortunate and I expect this it what kept Alec awake at night screaming. He didn't share this trauma with me of course, it was not the way to behave, but Cynthia had confided in me, or rather unburdened herself to me and I so desperately wanted to talk to him about it. Sadly, whenever I broached the subject, he would speak of something else as though the war never existed at all.

It was going to be a difficult evening for us all as the regiments' family and friends gathered around a large dining table to remember the dead and think of those still fighting. Alec told us he was eager to speak of the camaraderie and the happier glorious times but never the horrors.

My brother was in his element as a public speaker. At school he'd been a keen debater and he'd excelled in the solicitors' firm as the spokesman for the company. He knew how to communicate his business well and I was proud of his achievements but also envious of how much he was allowed to accomplish. I always thought Alec would make a wonderful politician.

When we finally arrived at our destination, Alec opened the cab door and then took my arm.

"Come along, dear sister," he said with affection, "fashionably late is one thing but we don't want to appear rude."

"You were the one late picking us up!"

He laughed. "Or perhaps you hoped I'd miss my speech as I know how you find me so dreadfully boring. We can't all be as exciting as you."

It was strange because I was envious of Alec but I suspected he was envious of me in my creativity and my impulsive nature. We laughed together and made our way inside the hotel foyer where people were already gathered, talking and joking, engrossed in small talk and waiting for the dinner to commence. With all the good cheer, you'd never believe it was a dinner in honour of war heroes.

There was the sound of a gong and we were led to the grand dining hall. As the doors parted and our coats were taken from us, I noticed that Alec and all the other gentlemen were dressed in their red uniforms. I'd seen the uniforms before but somehow as I walked in the room it was like passing through a sea of pink and it was quite unsettling seeing everyone look so alike.

After the glorious dinner, glasses were raised and everyone waited in silence as Alec rose in his chair and thanked everyone for attending. He coughed, pushed his spectacles up his nose, and stood up straight. "Ladies and Gentleman. We come together this evening to remember our husbands, sons, fathers, brothers and friends who fought bravely and continue to fight for Queen and country." I saw his hands shaking as he clutched the piece of paper.

His speech went on like that, speaking of glory and honour and chivalry and less of the senselessness and terror and fear. It by no means however was a poor speech, in fact it made quite an impact and though a sister hated to say it of a brother, I was incredibly proud when he received his well-deserved round of applause.

...

In our hotel room that night, Ada and I sat quietly musing over the evening's events. She had barely uttered two words during the whole night and I was still unsure whether she wanted to talk. The spirit's voice had been playing in her mind the last few weeks and it exhausted her with its relentlessness. The added stress of an evening which forced her to think of Robert's death had obviously taken its toll and she held her hair brush with a limp hand, no energy to even lift it to her head.