When I was little, about 5 years old, I particularly enjoyed sitting on Jo's lap after lunch, to listen to a story on the radio. I would fiddle with the silver heart she wore on a fine chain round her neck, and get sleepier as the story wore on, and mostly I drifted off into a happy nap. Full of lunch, warm, comfortable, held in my mother's arms: these were very happy times for me. She represented the source of everything good for me at that age. They are fine memories.