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There was compensation, though. It wasn’t exactly rockin’, but it was at least cheap and cheerful, as Mum has always said. As we walked into the bar, which, incidentally, women are allowed into, but only on best behaviour, we saw that the place was full of retired people, elderly ladies dressed up in their best clothing with full make-up. All of them appeared to be wearing the same bright blue eye shadow and deep red lipstick. Gramp was sitting with his friends and we were encouraged to join them. We stayed for a couple of hours in the Social Club, which turned out to be very sociable indeed, and good fun. We left Gramp and his friends to continue the afternoon in the club, which I was sure they would do in the accustomed manner, and the six of us then headed over the road to a proper pub. Dad knows most of the landlords around town and we are always warmly welcomed by them. Since my parents gave up the pub trade, they do not see a lot of their old social circle, so in a way, days like these are very much a chance to catch up with their old friends and acquaintances.

ELEVEN

Clive had put me straight about mortuary security very early on. ‘There is nothing, Michelle, nothing at all, more important than the security of this place.’ Graham nodded in silent agreement. ‘You never let anyone in unless you know who they are and why they want to be here, understand?’ Clive, laid back about so many things, was clearly telling me that on this subject he wanted me to listen and mark his words. He continued, ‘There’s a lot of funny people out there, and some of them think that the best way to spend a day out is drooling over dead people.’

I had known that people like that existed, but I didn’t think that it would be a problem in a small mortuary in a rural county. My disbelief must have shown on my face because Graham added, ‘You’d be surprised, Michelle. We get all sorts around here. A few years ago, one of the porters was caught in the mortuary when he had no business being here. Nobody could prove anything, but we all knew what he’d been up to, didn’t we, boss?’

Clive nodded. ‘Dirty bugger.’

‘What happened to him?’

Clive said, matter of factly, ‘The head porter had a chat with him. He got a job as a milkman shortly after, I believe.’

‘And you have to be careful when it comes to viewings, too,’ said Graham.

‘What do you mean?’

Clive explained. ‘We’ve had occasions when the “next of kin” weren’t quite as closely related as they claimed. In fact, we’ve had one occasion when he wasn’t related at all.’

‘You’re joking!’

Clive shook his head. ‘Luckily, I didn’t leave him alone, although he was bloody keen that I should. Turned out he wasn’t the brother of the deceased lady but the bloke who had lived over the road from her. Always fancied her, apparently.’

All this was an aspect of the job that I hadn’t really thought about before. It had seemed obvious that you have to keep a mortuary locked, but I hadn’t realized that you had to regard the place as a high security vault.

Clive said, ‘You’ve got to look on viewings as the weak point in our security; it’s when we have to allow outsiders in and so when we’re vulnerable.’

‘We get all sorts in,’ chuckled Graham, shaking his head. ‘All sorts.’

Clive asked him, ‘Do you remember that bloke who wanted to bring his cat in to pay his last respects?’ They both laughed.

Graham added, ‘And that old woman who wouldn’t leave Dr Romney alone. Remember her?’

Clive became excited. ‘Yes!’ He turned to me. ‘Dick Romney used to work here as a pathologist about ten years ago. Poor bloke. This widow kept after him for ages. It got so he was afraid to answer the telephone.’

Graham began to laugh so much that he caught his breath and went red in the face, stamping his foot and coughing up phlegm. I asked, ‘Why? What had happened?’

‘She and her husband had been a very devoted couple who’d lived together for years and years, and she’d gone a bit doolally, I suppose. Finally he died and she came in to view him. I had the body laid out really nicely