Dad’s telegram arrived as my mother was changing my nappy
for the very first time. She kept it in the safe in the study, but she never
let me read it, at least while she kept her mental faculties. Once her mind
went, I finally got the key to the safe, opened it, and finally found the
telegram stuck between an old playbill and a photograph of the two of them at a
beach.
The telegram seemed perfectly normal, the ‘deep regret’ and
his name and battalion and all that, all normal.
Until I reread it and saw the ‘brother’…
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