Amelia and her late husband, George, may have shared the same address but over the last ten years or so they had shared little else. Even their circles of friends were different. Amelia turned up to her husband’s funeral wearing a bright floral frock. Apparently George had requested that people wear something bright to his funeral. As she moved up to sit alone in the front pew she noticed she was practically the only one who had bothered to wear something bright. It showed you how people cared. Even her friends hadn’t bothered to turn up.
Amelia sat throughout the service barely listening. The panegyrics and prayers droned on and on. All she could think was how little a mark she had made in her life: a futile marriage, no children, friends who had deserted her when needed. Those who saw her dab her eyes thought it was grief, but it was remorse. It was remorse for having lived such a trite life. From now on things would be different.
Amelia followed the casket out of the church as if she was in a trance. It was dreamlike, surreal, bizarre – whatever word you wish to use. As she descended the church steps she overheard a little boy say:
“Mummy, who was the funny lady up the front in the dress with flowers on?”
“She a bit strange,” said the mother. “She thinks she was Hector’s wife, but Hector’s wife died last year.”
It was then that Amelia realized she had gone to the wrong church.
Gosh I hope her friends showed up at the right church so someone was there. Hector obviously a different set…
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Don’t you just hate it when you attend the wrong funeral!!!
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All that grief for the wrong person!
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!!
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Well, it’s true she murdered him so wasn’t grieving, actually. Can’t imagine going to the wrong funeral.
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No – it’s impossible to go to a spouse’s wrong funeral! I was never too worried about the facts getting in the way of a good story!
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That was a refreshing twist, humourous and farcical. Constantia turns up again except that this time she had intended to attend George’s funeral but ended up attending Hector’s. Did she lose her mind after Mondale’s departure? Did she get famous as the femme in floral frock who freckles the funerals in the town?
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OMG – I myself have muddled husbands. How like Constantia I feel. It was meant to be Mondale, but I didn’t check did I?! Incidentally, I have pinched the name of Constantia out of my favourite Katherine Mansfield short story: The daughters of the late colonel.
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Perhaps I’d read that story at a very young age. I may be needing to reread that soon.
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I just reread it now. http://katherinemansfieldsociety.org/assets/KM-Stories/THE-DAUGHTERS-OF-THE-LATE-COLONEL1920.pdf
I was going to do something else on my computer and you distracted me. Now I can’t remember what it was I was going to do!
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Maybe you were about to pen a sequel to Constantia’s madness? How her name rhymes with Ophelia!
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I’m going to change George back to Mondale – as was thinking of doing a series involving Constantia – and I can’t do it with a multitude of husbands all at the same time!
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Now I’m completely bloody muddled. I went to change George to Mondale and discovered that I’d muddled the wives’ names – not the husbands’. I’ve always had trouble with sex – by that I mean gender. It’s all your fault. Now I can’t really change Constantia to Amelia. I’d say a really rude word if I hadn’t become such a prude.
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Brilliant again!
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Thank you, again!
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Bravo!
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Thank you!
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If that darn Uma hadn’t read your wee tragedy so carefully, I would have been none the wiser about the shifting characters. It must be that I am such a fan of your telling of tales that I can’t ever detect the flaws!
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It was almost as if some of the characters were having an affair. Sort of like half the road I live on!
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Love the ending.
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Thank you. You’ve given me an idea which I shall explain sometime soon over the coming days!
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I love the ending!
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The ending I quite like – even though it’s improbable!
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Bravo!
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Thank you! Hurrah!
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