I asked Harold to scatter my ashes off the cliffs in Dover, but he’s gone and put me in a vase on the mantelpiece instead—the stupid bugger. I know why he’s done it; he can’t stand the thought of me dancing the Jitterbug up there in the stars with Joe.
He always hated it when Joe gave me all that attention. Of course, he couldn’t say so—not in those days—not even when Joe got killed. I reckon the only reason he married me was because it was the closest he could get to holding Joe in his arms.