The clink of cutlery, well the fact that all you could hear was the clink of cutlery. Was a telling sign, of the pressure currently being felt, at the small table of four dining on the first floor of a luxurious house in a very sought after part of London. Outside, a pea souper fog had rolled in, blanketing the city in a cloying choking greyness, as if the very clouds were trying to exterminate life beneath their shadow.
The four were sat in silence mostly due to crushing hangovers, but also, in part, because no one had been brave enough to ask Charles just what the hell had gotten into him the night before. Eventually however, the silence was broken by Charles’ younger brother Thomas.
“Oh I can’t bear this. Why did you attack that man yesterday Charles?”
Kath managed to inhale two more glasses of wine, before Charles lowered his cutlery and looked at his brother.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes Charles I do.”
Charles began to talk.
He spoke for over an hour, starting in Germany 1918 and ending with the events of the day before.
“That man killed my wives.” Is how he finished.