A Terrible Kindness(49)

‘So’ – Arthur claps his large hands – ‘let’s get to work.’

As they follow Arthur back to the demonstration room, William glances at Ray’s feet, anticipating correctly that his shoes are scuffed and worn.

The subdued, dreamy light from the single opaque window high up on the wall snaps into something hard and bright as Arthur turns on a lamp next to the table. Once they are all gathered, with notebooks balanced on clipboards, he slides the paper sheet from the body.





33




‘It’s slave labour.’

Ray and William are waiting to order drinks while Roger and Simon save the table at their first lunchbreak.

‘Rubbish.’ William bristles every time this man opens his mouth and shows his ignorance. ‘We’ve got to practise on real bodies. We can’t just play around and then throw them away, so it’s better we help with a real embalming. What’s the other option?’

‘They pay us, Einstein.’

‘But they’re training us! Everyone pays to be trained, don’t they?’

‘No.’

William thinks Ray is making up for not knowing anything in class by being such a know-it-all now.

‘Apprentices get paid,’ says Ray. ‘Not much, but something.’

William hasn’t thought of that – he doesn’t really know much about how things work in the wider world. The barman is taking his time to wipe down the counter at the other end of the room, chatting to regulars. He wishes he’d hurry up and take their order so they can get back to Roger and Simon. He doesn’t want them to think he and Ray are a pair just because they’re young.

‘I was offered a car mechanic’s apprenticeship back home,’ says Ray, ‘and they’d have paid me.’

‘Maybe you should have taken it.’

Ray pulls his mouth down and hunches his shoulders. ‘Car mechanics are ten-a-penny there – and badly paid. The funeral home said there’d be a job waiting for me if I qualified here and they’d cover my rent while I trained.’ He shrugs again. ‘Didn’t seem a bad idea – a year in London, with a job at the end.’

‘It’s so still.’ William mimics Ray’s response when Arthur pulled back the sheet from the cadaver.

‘Well, son,’ Arthur said, a smile playing at his lips, ‘we’d all need to worry if it wasn’t.’

Ray looked quickly at their laughing faces. ‘I’ll get used to it.’ He nodded. ‘Don’t you worry.’

‘Ha bloody ha.’ Ray’s face remains deadpan now, as he raises his hand to catch the barman’s attention, who finally starts to amble towards them. ‘You seriously think I’m the weird one, don’t you? You think, because that was the first dead body I’ve seen, I’m somehow second rate!’

‘What can I get you, gents?’ The barman rests both meaty hands on the counter. His sideburns curve around his cheeks like lamb chops.

‘Three pints of bitter and a lager shandy for the lady, please,’ says Ray, with the ease of a man who’s ordered many drinks from many bars.

William promises himself he’ll never order a shandy again in Ray’s company. ‘I don’t think you’re second rate, I just don’t get the impression that you want to be an embalmer,’ William says, as the barman moves to the pumps.

Ray laughs. Wholeheartedly. It’s the first time William’s seen his face rearrange itself and he notices what even, white teeth he has.

‘And again,’ says Ray, enjoying himself now, ‘you seriously think I’m the weird one because as a kid, I didn’t dream of stuffing dead bodies for a living?’

‘It’s not weird if it’s what your grandfather and father did.’ William knows he’s not being fair. He hadn’t spent his childhood knowing this is what he’d do. It was only after the life he’d expected had vanished that he realised how well he was suited to the quiet, hidden work of an embalmer. Nevertheless, his irritation makes him add, ‘And we don’t stuff bodies. We look after them.’

He reaches out and takes the tray from the barman, leaving his change on the counter.

? ? ?

William’s first time alone with a dead body was with Kenneth, the old man who lived down the road.

It was late September. Evelyn was in Swansea, and because she’d been gazumped on the house she was buying for them, he’d had to start school in Sutton until October half-term. He’d taken to doing his homework in the office adjoining the morgue rather than in the kitchen. Robert was looking after Kenneth, who’d died that week.

‘Can I watch?’ he said, appearing at Robert’s side.

Robert’s hands were suddenly still. ‘If you like. I’ve nearly finished, we’re onto the H.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a mnemonic, Pack Her Cotton Dress Clean Today Please. We use it for the final bits and bobs, once the body’s embalmed. H stands for hair, C for cosmetise, and D for dress.’ He turned to William. ‘Sure you’re all right with this?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Right then.’ He reached for the leather cosmetics bag behind him. ‘Let’s get this hair sorted.’