Echoes of Yesterday
Zoe Davies
(Bertie sits on a chair, narrator beside him)
Nurse: Bertie? (She holds a box) Your son found a box of your things. He’ll be through in a moment.
Narrator: Bertie gropes inside the box, feeling for something. And he finds it. His fingers curl around cool metal. He lifts the rifle from the box. It’s familiar. Fingers closing around the trigger, he pulls, waiting for the bang. But it’s not filled. However that wasn’t the case seventy-eight years ago…
(It’s World-War-Two. Bertie clutches his gun.)
Narrator: Bertie listened to war. Somewhere, he heard footsteps, getting closer.
(A man walks up behind Bertie. His brother, Edward.)
Narrator: his fingers closed around the trigger. This time, there’s a bang. (Edward crumples)
(Change to a funeral. Edward lies, his arms crossed over his chest.)
Funeral Director: here lies Edward Wilson. 1920-1944.
Narrator: who died aged twenty-four, shot by his own brother, who was too blind to tell friend from foe.
(Bertie kneels beside Edward. A woman takes his hand and leads him under an arch.)
Priest: we are here today to witness the marriage of these two individuals.
Narrator: this is Irene. She loves Bertie, and Bertie loves her.
Priest: You may kiss the bride!
(They lean in, but two children burst through them. The children play a game of tag, parents looking on.)
Bertie: describe them to me.
Irene: bright blue eyes.
Narrator: as blue as the sky
Irene: chubby cheeks
Narrator: dimples
Irene: fringes plastered to their foreheads
Narrator: sticky with sweat
Irene: they are beautiful. Like you.
Narrator: they were a beautiful couple. However, like all beautiful things, it couldn’t, and wouldn’t, last.
(Irene clutches her chest, sinking to the ground.)
Bertie: (panicked) Irene?
(Change to funeral. Irene lies)
Narrator: (grimly) this looks familiar.
Funeral Director: Here lies Irene Wilson. 1925-1965.
Narrator: who died aged forty due to heart failure, beside her loving husband.
(Bertie kneels beside Irene, his children with him. His son stands.)
Son: Dad? (He leads Bertie to his seat.)
Narrator: here he is. Back to reality. His son’s come to visit him. (Bertie tugs a photograph from the box)
Bertie: What’s this?
Son: you and mum. On your wedding day.
Bertie: describe her to me.
Son: bright blue eyes
Narrator-and-Son: as blue as the sky
Son: a dazzling smile
Narrator: dimples
Bertie: a beautiful laugh.
Narrator: like a bell on the wind
Bertie-and-Son: beautiful hugs.
Narrator: the best hugs imaginable.
Bertie: I loved her. I guess I’ll join her soon.
Narrator: Bertie speaks lightly, as if only talking about joining her for a walk. The son knows this isn’t the case.
Son: dad, don’t talk like that.
Bertie: I love you (he kisses his son on the cheek)
(Change to a funeral. Bertie lies in a coffin.)
Funeral Director: here lies Albert Wilson. 1925-2023.
Narrator: who died aged ninety-eight due to old age. His brother and wife have waited for him. He’s taken his time, but they don’t mind. Together, they embark on their next great adventure.
(Blackout)