Late

Late

T O MY GREAT

surprise, it turns out I died last Wednesday.

I uncrinkle the newspaper across both of our laps.

‘You read the obituaries in the Birmingham Post

?’ I ask Bella, unable to hide the judgement from my voice.

‘I read everything,’ she replies.

And there he is.

Edward ‘Eddie’ Winston is remembered lovingly by his son James, son-in-law Ralph, daughter Georgia and his three grandchildren Emma, Alexander and Sophie. He is remembered, too, by friends from the Rotary Club with whom he spent many happy hours of his retirement fishing. A service of thanks for his life will be held at St Hope’s Church, Edgbaston on Monday, 11 August at 9.30. No flowers, please

. Donations gratefully directed to the Myton Hospice.

‘Poor Eddie Winston,’ Bella says.

‘Poor Eddie Winston,’ I agree.

‘ Is

it Edward? Your real name?’

I am about to reply when a man comes up to us with a flyer for an improvised comedy show. ‘It’s free,’ he says, and hands us both a piece of lime-green paper. ‘If you don’t laugh, you get your money back.’ He seems much more amused by this than we are, and then he pulls more flyers out of his beige messenger bag and heads off to the next bench.

‘I doubt I’ll have a newspaper obituary when I die,’ I say as Bella pulls out a Tupperware pot of tomato pasta from her backpack. She brings her lunch from home now she’s working at the Hippodrome.

‘Why not?’ Bella asks.

‘There’d be nobody to write one. I’m not remembered lovingly by my son, my daughter or

my three charming grandchildren.’

‘It didn’t say they were charming.’

‘No,’ I say sadly, ‘but I bet they are.’

‘Would you even want one?’

‘A grandchild?’ I ask.

‘An obituary.’

‘A little etching of my name in the history books of this great city?’

‘Is that what you think an obituary is?’

‘I—’

‘The announcements section of a local paper is just Facebook for people who don’t have Facebook.’ She scoops a forkful of pasta into her mouth and pulls a face. It doesn’t smell too appetizing.

‘I’d still like to be remembered though.’

‘If I outlive you, I promise to publish an obituary when you die.’

‘You can embellish a little if you like. Make me sound more fun.’

‘ Eddie Winston is remembered by his turtles, his sixteen great-grandchildren and the Munich Male Voice Choir

.’

‘Perfect. I look forward to it.’