Down Among the Dead Men_ A Year in the Life of a Mortuary Technician - Michelle Williams [4]
‘All right, love?’ Dad has asked me this question for as long as I can remember.
Mum came out with her usual, ‘Have you eaten? I’m just cooking our tea if you want to stay,’ which was followed by, ‘Have you got enough money?’ and finished with, ‘Is Luke looking after you?’ – Luke being my boyfriend. She then put the kettle on.
Dad went into his usual routine: ‘You remembered where we lived then?’ which is what I get when I have spent more than three days without being in touch. So, after all the usual chat about work and life and stuff, I decided I would tell them that I had applied for the technician’s job.
Mum’s reaction was, surprisingly, delight. ‘What? Working with dead people?’ She lowered her voice. ‘If I was your age again, I would do that.’
Dad had a different response. ‘Comes from your mother’s side of the family, that sort of interest.’ As soon as he said this I thought, The Addams Family, as Adams was Mum’s maiden name; that, and the fact that in my last year at school my nickname was Morticia because of my long dark hair and pale complexion, meant it all seemed quite fitting. I told Mum and Dad that nothing was certain yet.
When it came to it, Mum took the day off and went with me to the interview, bringing with her Dad’s good luck wishes. I think she was probably more excited than I was. She waited in the café down the road from the hospital while I sat through the second interview, which involved a lot of questions about my personality and, as I said before, why I wanted the job, and how I would deal with situations that I have never been in, to most of which I replied that I would refer to a more experienced member of staff. The twenty minutes seemed to last for ever. At the end I was told I would be contacted that afternoon. I rejoined Mum, who didn’t say much apart from asking me how I felt and did I need a proper drink to settle myself, but when the phone call came through offering me the job and I accepted, she hugged me to the point where I nearly became unconscious. I rang Dad to tell him the news, and he replied, ‘Well done, love.’
I then rang my brother, whose reply was typical. ‘What do you want to do that for?’
Luke was pleased as he knew how much I wanted the job, and suggested we celebrate that evening. Last, but by no means least, was Gramp. He was not a hundred per cent sure as to what I was talking about, so we visited him later that day and explained all. And, while I’m sure he still did not fully understand, he was very proud that I was going to be working at the main hospital.
THREE
I arrived ten minutes early on my second morning at the mortuary (now that I knew vaguely where it was) and was greeted warmly by Clive who had already been in for forty minutes and had the kettle on. He liked to get in early as he always preferred to be one step ahead of the game. Graham arrived five minutes later and went straight into the body store to register the bodies that had been brought in overnight. I followed him through, as I was intrigued as to what this involved and eager to learn more of the routines of the MTO life.
The body store leads directly from the entrance vestibule. It is a large room containing a huge fridge which can house twenty-eight bodies and is fronted by seven tall doors. Opposite these are some cupboards, with a bench top, as well as a sink and waste bins. Every time the porters bring a body into the mortuary, they fill in a sheet that lives on the bench top; it details who the deceased is, where they have come from and which fridge they have been put into, plus a few other facts for continuity. Graham consulted this, and then went to one of the seven fridge doors; when he opened it, I saw that behind it were four metal trays, one above the other, each supporting a full body bag.
He manoeuvred a hydraulic trolley on wheels in front of this, and then proceeded