A Terrible Kindness(53)

‘I can come for an hour now, but that’s it. They’re expecting me for tea.’

Ray’s smile is genuine, a rare showing of his even teeth. ‘Thanks, William. I could do with a hand.’

It’s the truth. Twice this week William’s heard Ray’s tutor say they’ll need to spend more time together on his assignments.

‘I live just round the corner.’ Ray stuffs his gown into his bag in a big ball.

‘If you fold it, it won’t look such a mess when you put it back on.’ He’s sick of looking at Ray across the embalming table in his gown that’s so rumpled it doesn’t even hang straight.

‘I’ll do it later.’ He grins, patting William on the back. ‘Let’s get this bloody homework out of the way.’



‘It’s not much, but it’s home – isn’t that what they say?’

Ray holds the door for William, who is out of breath from the three-flight climb. It took them twenty-five minutes to walk ‘just round the corner’, so it’s already 5.30. The soles of his shoes stick to the lino that curls up in the doorway. Ray flings his bag across the room onto the unmade bed. In the corner is a tiny sink. Against the wall to their right, a camping stove sits on a table, surrounded by dirty plates and dishes. There’s a clothes rail with one jacket on a hanger, but trousers and shirts are draped over the rail. A yellowing net curtain hangs from a wire halfway down the window.

Ray takes off his tie as he kneels next to the iron bedstead that reminds William of boarding school, with its skinny mattress. Ray pulls two bottles from under it, drops them on the blanket, and gets a bottle opener from a basket on the small Formica table. He pops the lids off and passes one to William before he can say no. He’s not a fan of beer, and he doesn’t want the Finches to smell it on him when he returns.

‘Take a seat.’ Ray gestures to the rickety wooden chair next to the table as he sits on the bed and lights a cigarette. Straightening one leg, he pulls a brown envelope from his pocket, bent now into the curve of his thigh. With the cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, he pulls out the question, drops the envelope on the floor, and reads, squinting his eyes against the smoke.

‘I hate this.’

‘What?’ says William, noticing it is now 5.45.

‘Doing this. I thought that’s what I was paying for. They want to get us up to speed as fast as they can to do their dirty work, but we have to learn the difficult stuff on our own.’

‘If you think embalming’s dirty work’ – William takes a swig of beer – ‘I’m not sure you’re going to last.’

Ray drops the paper on the bed next to him and sits forward, towards William.

‘Now I’ve got you to help me, I can’t fail.’

‘Let’s get on with it. I haven’t got long.’ William regrets how mean-spirited he feels when he’s with Ray.

‘Jammy bastard.’ Ray drags on his cigarette. ‘A family to go home to, hot meals. Bet your room’s better than this, eh?’

‘What’s your question?’ William nods at the paper discarded on the bed.

Ray reads it out. It’s the same one William had on his first day.

‘Where’s your Scudamore?’

Ray waves his hand under the bed till it bumps against the book. He pulls it out and bats away the dust on it.

William takes it from him, leafs through it and lays it open on the right page. ‘OK,’ he says, ‘I visualise the arteries like branches of a tree.’

Ray looks from the book to smile at William.

‘What?’ William says.

‘It comes so naturally to you.’

‘I’ve watched my uncle, so it makes sense, and anyway, I had this question last week.’

Ray stubs out his cigarette on a saucer next to his bed. ‘I know you think I’m useless. I probably am, but it gets on my nerves how smug you all are.’

‘Just write down this bit. I’ve got to go.’

Ray starts copying out the paragraph William has highlighted. ‘Drink your beer then.’ He points at the bottle on the floor. William knocks it back in five gulps.

Ray’s handwriting is thankfully fast and neat. It’s 6.50. They’ll be sitting down to eat in ten minutes and he thinks it will take him at least half an hour to get there.

‘What’s the problem?’ says Ray. ‘So you’ll miss tea. How old are you, ten? Stay here and we can have another beer, get fish and chips.’

‘Laugh at me all you like, but I want to sit down for a meal with a nice family and, if you must know, their daughter.’

Ray’s sly smile and knowing look make William regret what he’s just given away.

‘Now that I understand!’ He finishes his beer. ‘Bugger off then, I’ve got this now.’

‘Thanks,’ says William, feeling sheepish, getting up and putting on his jacket. ‘Make sure you include all of the arteries and veins that are relevant; you lose points for every one you miss.’ Ray doesn’t move to open the door or say goodbye. He just watches William with a smile that makes him uncomfortable.

‘Bye then,’ William says as he backs out of the door. Ray merely raises the empty beer bottle.



He runs full pelt back to the college and then to the Finches’, not trusting himself to navigate the route from Ray’s. It takes thirty-five minutes and by the time he bursts into their dining room, he’s out of breath, sweating and a little light-headed. Mr Finch is serving apple pie. All three of them turn in surprise. His sausage, mash and peas are on his plate, with a hint of white where the fat has congealed on the gravy.