“Come. Come here. There's something I need to ... to tell you all,” whispered the dying man to his grim-faced and attentive family as they leaned forward, as one, around his bed.

“There's something I must pass on before I ... pass on.” He paused. Then, in what might have been a death-rattle, but what was, in point of fact, a chuckle, he added, “D'ya geddit? Pass on before I pass on.” The leaning family stared at him. “It's a whatsit - a pun,” he added.

There was an uncomfortable shuffling of feet. A thin smile curled across the dying man's face - a curling, teasing smile aimed at his wife - a smile they had all come to know over the years. His audience, however, felt that this was no time for levity. It was just not appropriate for the dignity required of the situation. Anyway, what was it he wanted to pass on?

“What I want to pass on is...” But then his jaw dropped. The curling smile became a gaping hole.

The leaners, as one, stood upright. They stared at the corpse, then at each other.

“I wonder what he was going to say?” his brother murmured, fingering his tie to make it straight.

“He was having us all on,” said grandson George. “You know his sense of humour.”

“I'm sure he was going to tell us he'd seen the light! They do, you know, just before they go!“ said his new-to-the-role widow.

“Naa. He was a rabid atheist,” said George. “Didn't he tell the vicar to sod off when you brought him in here yesterday, gran?”

“Wasn't in his right mind, George, I'm sure. No it's a proper church service for him, with all the trimmings!”

The topic of the existence of a supreme being hadn't been the only difference of opinion between the old couple. In fact, they had disagreed over a number of things. In recent times there was the particular problem of what to watch on the tele. Her love of East Enders nearly drove him to distraction. He would leave the room when it was on. "Phoney cliff-hangers. Contrived. Waste of time." When it came to dramatic structure, he was more the sort of ironic twist type. But their big argument, their really big one, came after his visit to the doctor, when he learned about his coming exit from the stage. “You'll get me in that church over my dead body!” he had proclaimed when she asked him about the sort of funeral service he wanted. "I've been a non-believer all my life and that isn't going to change because of this little setback.”

She went back to her hoovering. He went off into the garden to ponder.

The big day arrived soon enough. The same family group stood together again, this time solemnly looking out from the bay window in the front room, waiting for the hearse to drive up.

The phone rang. George went out into the hallway to answer it. "It's for you, gran."

There was a mumble of conversation. Was that an “Oh shit! He hasn't has he?” that they heard? Moments later, gran was standing at the door. “The bugger. The scheming old bugger. It's the University medical school. He's only gone and left his body for research. They phoned to say they'd just collected it from the funeral parlour. And they thanked me. The funeral's off!"

George smiled - a thin smile that curled across his face - his granddad's smile.