find out about.
Nineteen people came. Four from the home, two of Nancy’s family who I found through a Christmas card list, Ruth Benedek, Pauline from the cemetery office — who came on her day off and did not tell me she was coming — and a man of seventy-one called Hollis who worked with Alby in 1979 and who I got hold of eleven days before.
I did the reading. I had never done one.
And the headstone, which is Nancy’s from 1991, has had his name added underneath hers in a slightly different lettering, because the mason who did hers is dead and the new one did his best and apologised about four times.
Alby would have found that extremely funny.
And Fela, who was twenty-six and asked me a question in the May and who I went to see in the April of this year.
She did not remember
