And it could be tonight, or maybe next week.
But it will be soon. I promise.
2
Melvyn Hudson had decided to do this evenings removal himself. He liked a fresh body in the freezer at the end of the day it meant there was work to do tomorrow. So he called Vernon out of the workshop and made him fetch the van. Vernon was useless with the grievers, of course. He always had been, ever since the old man had made them take him on. But at least hed be where Hudson could keep an eye on him.
The vehicle they called the van was actually a modified Renault Espace with black paintwork, darkened windows and an HS number plate. Like the hearses and limousines, the vans registration number told everyone it was from Hudson and Slack. Your dependable local firm.
They were dependable, all right. Bring out yourdead that might be a better slogan. Sometimes Melvyn felt like the council refuse man arriving to pick up an old fridge left on the back doorstep. Nobody worried about what happened to their unwanted rubbish. Their disused fridges could pile up in mouldering mountains on a landfill site somewhere and no one would be bothered, as long as they didnt have to look at them. Most people were even more anxious to get a corpse off the premises.
A few minutes later, Vernon drove out on to Fargate, hunched over the steering wheel awkwardly, the way he did everything. Hudson had sworn to himself hed get rid of Vernon if he messed up one more thing, no matter what old man Slack said. The lad was a liability, and this firm couldnt afford liabilities any more.
A few minutes later, Vernon drove out on to Fargate, hunched over the steering wheel awkwardly, the way he did everything. Hudson had sworn to himself hed get rid of Vernon if he messed up one more thing, no matter what old man Slack said. The lad was a liability, and this firm couldnt afford liabilities any more.
Hudson snorted to himself as they drove through the centre of Edendale. Lad? Vernon was twenty-five, for heavens sake. He ought to be learning the business side of things, ready to take over when the time came. Some chance of that, though. Vernon was nowhere near the man his father had been. It had to be said that Richard had done a poor job of shaping his son. Not that thered be a business much longer for anyone to run.
When they reached the house in Southwoods, Hudson asked the relatives to wait downstairs. There was nothing worse than having distressed grievers watching the deceased being manhandled into a body bag. If full rigor hadnt set in, the corpse tended to flop around a bit. Sometimes, youd almost think they were coming back to life.
This corpse was an old man, shrunken and smelly, with a bubble of grey froth on his lips. He wasnt quite cold yet, but his skin felt like putty, flat and unresisting. Hudson thought that if he poked a finger hard enough into the mans stomach, it would sink right in until it touched his spine.
Vernon was standing by the bed like an idiot, his arms hanging at his sides, his mind on anything but the job.
Whats up with you? said Hudson.
Melvyn, when you do a removal like this one, dont you ever notice the little things in a persons bedroom?
Like what?
Just the little things. Look, theres a glass of water hes only half drunk. Theres a razor here that somebody used to shave him with this morning. Its still got some of his hairs on it, even though hes dead.
Of course hes bloody dead, said Hudson, struggling to keep his voice down. What do you think were doing here?
Dont you look at those things, Melvyn?
No. Its just a job. Were professionals.
But dont you sometimes think Well, while all this stuff is lying around, its as if hes not really dead at all. Hes still here in the room.
For Gods sake, leave off the thinking, Vernon, and get a grip on this stiff.
Hudson took the knees of the corpse, while Vernon grasped the shoulders. An arm lifted and a hand flapped, as though waving goodbye.
Watch it, or hell end up on the floor, said Hudson. The family down there are doing their best to pretend they dont know whats happening. An almighty thump on the ceiling will ruin the illusion.
They got the body on to the stretcher and began to negotiate the stairs. These old cottages were always a problem. The doorways were too narrow, the stairs too steep, the corner at the bottom almost impossible. Hudson often thought that people must have been a lot smaller when they built these houses unless they lowered corpses out of the window on the end of a rope in those days.
They loaded the stretcher into the van, then Hudson went back into the house, smoothing the sleeves of his jacket. It wasnt his funeral suit, of course, just his old one for removals. But appearances mattered, all the same.
Now, dont worry about a thing, he told the daughter of the deceased. I know your father was ill for some time, but it always comes as a shock when a loved one passes over. Thats what were here for to ease the burden and make sure everything goes smoothly at a very difficult time.
Thank you, Mr Hudson.
Theres only one thing that I have to ask you to do. You know you need to collect a medical certificate from the doctor and register your fathers death? The registrar will issue you with a death certificate and a disposal certificate. The disposal certificate is the one you give to me.
Disposal? said the daughter uncertainly.
I know it seems like a lot of paperwork, but it has to be done, Im afraid. Hudson saw she was starting to get flustered, and gave her his reassuring smile. Sometimes its best to have lots to do at a time like this, so you dont have time to dwell on things too much. Well give your father a beautiful funeral, and make sure your last memories of him are good ones.
The daughter began to cry, and Hudson took her hand for a moment before leaving the house.
Back in the van, Vernon reached for the pad of forms under the dashboard.
Leave the paperwork, said Hudson. Ill do it myself.
I know how to do it, Melvyn.
I said leave it. You just concentrate on driving.
Why wont you let me do the forms?
Oh, shut up about it, Vernon, will you? You get the best jobs, dont you? I let you drive the van. I even let you drive the lims.
Im a good driver.
Hudson had to admit that Vernon was quite a decent driver. But everyone liked driving the limousines. You got to hear some interesting stuff from the grievers in the back. They didnt care what they said on the way to a funeral, and especially coming back. They gave you a different view of the deceased from what the vicar said in his eulogy. Vernon was the same as everyone else he liked to earwig on the grievers. But if he was going to go all moody and yonderly on a removal, it was the last straw.
A few minutes later, they drew up to the back door of their own premises, got the body into the mortuary and slid it into one of the lower slots of the refrigerator. Even Vernon would have to admit a corpse was just a thing once it was removed from the house, away from the half-drunk glass of water and the hair on the razor. There was no other way to think about it, not when you did the things you had to do to prepare a body putting in the dentures, stitching up the lips, pushing the face back into shape. It never bothered Hudson any more. Unless it was a child, of course.
Watch it, dont let that tray slide out.
Vernon jerked back into life. His attention had been drifting, but so had Hudsons. Even at this stage, it wouldnt do to spill the body on to the floor.
Vicky, the receptionist, was in the front office working on the computer, but there were no prospects in, no potential customers. The last funeral was over for the day, though the next casket was waiting to go in the morning, and one of the team was already attaching the strips of non-slip webbing to hold wreaths in place.
Hudson knew that some of the staff thought he fussed too much. They sniggered at him behind his back because he got obsessed about timing, and was always worrying about roadworks or traffic jams. But he wanted things to be just right for every funeral. It was the same reason he spent his evenings on the phone to customers, advising them on what to do with their ashes, getting feedback on funerals, hearing how the family were coping.
It was all part of the personal service. And personal service was Hudson and Slacks main asset. Probably its last remaining asset.
Ben Cooper drove his Toyota out on to the Sheffield ring road, just beating a Supertram rattling towards the city centre from Shalesmoor. Technically, he was off duty now, but he plugged his mobile into the hands-free kit and called the CID room at E Division to check that he wasnt needed. He didnt expect anything, though. In fact, it would have to be really urgent for somebody to justify his overtime.
Miss is in some kind of meeting with the DI, said DC Gavin Murfin. But she didnt leave any messages for you, Ben. Ill tell her you checked in. But Im just about to go home myself, so I wouldnt worry about a thing.
OK, Gavin. Ive hit rush hour, so itll take me about forty minutes to get back to Edendale anyway.
Brake lights had come on in front of him as scores of cars bunched at the A57 junction. A few drivers were trying to take a right turn towards the western suburbs of Sheffield. But most seemed intent on crawling round the ring road, probably heading for homes in the sprawling southern townships, Mosborough and Hackenthorpe, Beighton and Ridgeway. Some of those places had been in Derbyshire once, but the city had swallowed them thirty years ago.
Gavin, whats the meeting about? said Cooper, worried that he might be missing something important. Everything of any significance seemed to happen when he was out of the office. Sometimes he wondered if Diane Fry planned it that way. As his supervising officer, she wasnt always quick to keep him informed.
Ive no idea, said Murfin. She didnt tell me. Ive got some files to give her, then Im hoping to sneak away before she finds another job for me to do.
Theres no overtime, Gavin.