Memento Mori

‘What do you feel about the cremation service?’

‘First rate,’ said Godfrey. ‘I’ve quite decided to be cremated when my time comes. Cleanest way. Dead bodies under the ground only contaminate our water supplies. You should have said cremation service in the first place.’

‘I thought it was cold,’ said Tempest. ‘I do wish the minister had read out poor Lisa’s obituary. The last cremation I was at — that was Ronald’s poor brother Henry — they read out his obituary from the Nottingham Guardian, all about his war service and his work for SSAFA and Road Safety. It was so very moving. Now why couldn’t they have read out Lisa’s? All that in the papers about what she did for the Arts, he should have read it out to us.

‘I quite agree,’ said Godfrey. ‘It was the least he could have done. Did you make a special request for it?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘I left the arrangements to Ronald. Unless you do everything yourself …’

‘They always get very violent about other poets,’ said Ronald. ‘You see, they feel very personal about poetry.’

‘Whatever is he talking about?’ said Tempest. ‘He’s talking about Mr Mannering, that’s what he’s on about. We aren’t talking about Mr Mannering, Ronald. Mr Mannering’s left, it’s a thing of the past.

We’ve gone on to something else.’

As they rose to leave Godfrey felt a touch on his arm. Turning round he saw Guy Leet behind him, his body crouched over his sticks and his baby face raised askew to Godfrey’s.

‘Got your funeral baked meats all right?’ said Guy.

‘What?’ said Godfrey.

Guy nodded his head towards Godfrey’s pocket which bulged with the cakes. ‘Taking them home to Charmian?’

‘Yes,’ said Godfrey.

‘And how is Charmian?’

Godfrey had partly regained his poise. ‘She’s in wonderful form,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘to see you having such a difficult time. Must be terrible not being able to get about on your own pins.’

Guy gave a high laugh. He came close to Godfrey and breathed into his waistcoat, ‘But I did get about, dear fellow. At least I did.’

On the way home Godfrey threw the cakes out of his car window. Why did one pocket those damned things? he thought. One doesn’t need them, one could buy up every cake-shop in London and never miss the money. Why did one do it? It doesn’t make sense.

‘I have been to Lisa Brooke’s funeral,’ he said to Charmian when he got home, ‘or rather, cremation.’

Charmian remembered Lisa Brooke, she had cause to remember her. ‘Personally, I’m afraid,’ said Charmian, ‘that Lisa was a little spiteful to me sometimes, but she had her better side. A generous nature when dealing with the right person, but —’

‘Guy Leet was there,’ said Godfrey. ‘He’s nearly finished now, bent over two sticks.’

Charmian said, ‘Oh, and what a clever man he was!’

‘Clever?’ said Godfrey.

Charmian, when she saw Godfrey’s face, giggled squeakily through her nose.

‘I have quite decided to be cremated when my time comes,’ said Godfrey. ‘It is the cleanest way. The cemeteries only pollute our water supplies. Cremation is best.’

‘I do so agree with you,’ said Charmian sleepily.

‘No, you do not agree with me,’ he said. ‘R.C.s are not allowed to be cremated.’

‘I mean, I’m sure you are right, Eric dear.’

‘I am not Eric,’ said Godfrey. ‘You are not sure I’m right. Ask Mrs Anthony, she’ll tell you that R.C.s are against cremation.’ He opened the door and bawled for Mrs Anthony. She came in with a sigh.

‘Mrs Anthony, you’re a Roman Catholic, aren’t you?’ said Godfrey.

‘That’s right. I’ve got something on the stove.’

‘Do you believe in cremation?’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I don’t really much like the idea of being shoved away quick like that. I feel somehow it’s sort of—’

‘It isn’t a matter of how you feel, it’s a question of what your Church says you’ve not got to do. Your Church says you must not be cremated, that’s the point.’

‘Well, as I say, Mr Colston, I don’t really fancy the idea —’

‘Fancy the idea … It is not a question of what you fancy. You have no choice in the matter, do you see?’

‘Well, I always like to see a proper burial, I always like —’

‘It’s a point of discipline in your Church,’ he said, ‘that you mustn’t be cremated. You women don’t know your own system.’

‘I see, Mr Colston. I’ve got something on the stove.’

‘I believe in cremation, but you don’t — Charmian, you disapprove of cremation, you