Down Among the Dead Men_ A Year in the Life of a Mortuary Technician - Michelle Williams [46]
The porters brought Mr Diggins in and Graham made doubly sure that the doors were definitely locked behind them. ‘People don’t listen, Michelle,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if they try and get back in ten minutes or so.’ He asked me to prepare Mr Diggins for the viewing room while he booked him into the mortuary register and completed the relevant paperwork.
Clive had finished his conversation to whomever, and had wandered through to see how we were doing and to inform us that it was nearly three o’clock; this meant that, whatever was happening, it was tools down and stop for tea. ‘I haven’t got time for that,’ Graham said in an abrupt manner following up straight away with, ‘Sorry, boss.’ He then went on to tell Clive what had just happened. I kept my head down while this conversation was happening, as I could feel anger rising in the body store where we all were. Clive and Graham never liked to be told by families what to do. The mortuary was their domain, and no one bossed them around about how it was controlled, especially not families. Visits were held at a convenient time for the technicians, and that was that.
Clive was a little annoyed at Graham for arranging for the family to come back. He was fully aware that families like these wanted to spend almost every last minute with their deceased relative, right up to the moment they went into the ground or the fire. ‘Who’s on call?’ asked Clive. ‘Because this could be a long evening.’
‘I am,’ I answered, and I felt my heart hit the bottom of my stomach. What did he mean by a long evening?
‘Right, Michelle, I am deadly serious now. This family, from my experience, will dominate the chapel and you have to take control. They can stay till six-thirty this evening if they wish. But make sure you tell them so when they arrive, then there’ll be no surprises and they know you mean business.’
I couldn’t see myself speaking to them in this manner. There would be so many of them for a start, and I was rubbish at talking to large groups of people; added to that, from what I had heard of the conversation at the door with Graham earlier, they knew exactly what they wanted. I had to fight to stop panic taking hold.
I had made sure Mr Diggins looked as good as I could possibly make him and placed him in the chapel, and was waiting in anticipation for his family to arrive. The doorbell rang at the relatives’ entrance and I took a deep breath as I opened it. I couldn’t count how many people stood in front of me, but it was a large crowd. There was no way I was going to fit everyone in. The whole family had turned up, including babies, toddlers, teenagers and what appeared to be grandparents. Mr Diggins was sixty-seven, so I wondered if the elderly among them were brothers and sisters. I remember thinking that, surely, no one has blood family this big.
I had to take control, because there was no other way I was going to be able to deal with this. I asked for the head of the family to make himself known, slightly shaking as I requested it, and a six foot five male stepped forward . As he did so, the rest of the family cleared the path for him to walk through. Now my heart was in my shoes. I showed him into the waiting area and shut the door behind me, leaving the rest of the family outside. He shook my hand and introduced himself as Herbie Diggins, Mr Diggins’ eldest son. His hands were like shovels and very rough. His hair was jet black and his physique huge; he undoubtedly gave off an aura of dominance and control, a lot more so than I was doing. As he shook my hand, I thought I was going to be lifted off the floor by my wrist. I told him my name and, as I looked at his face, I could see the pain in his eyes that he was desperately trying to hold on to. This had nearly floored him and I could see it. He was trying