I flinched, pausing a beat.
“How – ”
“You called out her name, when you saw me at the gate last night.”
I had. Of course, I had. The word had left me so easily that I’d barely noticed it.
I cleared my throat, feeling deeply uncomfortable.
“You can keep that one between us. I can assure you I do not usually make my decisions based on a hunch, or a perceived familiarity.” I stood straighter, disguising the emotion in my voice behind another cough. “Our arrangement is temporary, a trial, until we’re both certain that this is the right role for you. That’s more than I’d have offered anybody else,” I said, my hand reaching for the door handle. “Anything else, before we press on?”
“Yes,” said Grace, not moving from her seat. “That room – it was hers, wasn’t it?”
“It was ours,” I said wearily, wondering if she was always this inquisitive. “But yes, it was hers. Hers, really.”
“So she was your – ”
“My fiancé, a long time ago. She’s dead now.”
She paused, then made another observation.
“Then her room is just the same as it was back then.Unchanged.”
The conversation was uncomfortable, but I enjoyed her curiosity about me and the room. Had anybody else asked me these questions, they’d have received a proverbial bloodied nose for prying into my private life.
“I’m unchanged, in some ways. I haven’t known another woman like that in twenty years,” I said honestly. Though I had found ways to cope with my physical needs, I’d vowed long ago I would never love again.
Grace swallowed hard, her eyes full of sorrow, and looked down at her lap. Her eyes drifted to the fireplace and watched the flames licking the grate. That seemed to satisfy her for now, and I was glad, because I had no intentions of going down memory lane. The day’s schedule demanded my full attention and, in any case, I was excited to show her around.
“Shall we?”
“Of course,” said Grace, standing and drifting her way over to me.
We began on the ground floor, where I showed her the grand drawing room and dining room, with their ogival arch doorways, which had been converted into office spaces for myself and my small number of day-staff. Three mortuary technicians, who also served as pallbearers, attendants, drivers; four administrators-cum-reception staff, including Maggie, who could greet clients and manage bookings with the rest of them; one book-keeper, and me, the funeral director.
We next took a turn outside, where I showed her the gardens around the house, and the car port where we kept the hearses and the Rolls Royce. Grace took it all in silently,nodding her head as I guided her by the busts and statues. I told her about the orangery, and how it was used for storage, though it had fallen into disrepair. Then I guided her to our small but peaceful chapel of rest, made of brick and stone with a stained glass window. It was added onto the house to allow families to spend time with their loved ones after they’d been embalmed, and have a viewing, if they wished, before the funeral.
After that, I showed her the stables, though Marcus was busy preparing the horses. There wasn’t enough time to let her meet them now. We made our way slowly back to the house, where I walked her to the car port and stopped by the less-than-glamorous garage door.
“We’ve a much nicer entrance to the mortuary from inside, but seeing as we’re here, I’ll show you where we deliver the bodies,” I said, pressing and holding the button to lift the wide metal door. We entered and took the spacious lift down to the basement.
“We transport the bodies from their collection point – hospital, hospice, their home, what have you – and we bring them down here on a gurney,” I said, by way of explanation. “It’s an age-old process that I’ve carried out thousands of times.”
“Your family has been doing this kind of work for a long time, then?” asked Grace.
I grimaced.Your family. It only ever felt half-true, given that my parents were not biologically mine. They were, in fact, my aunt and uncle, and my brother Alexander was my cousin. Knowing how others in the industry felt about my inheritance, it curled my toes to refer to thefamilyas being mine, let alone the business.
“The Crowthornes were funeral directors for hundreds of years. Over one hundred of them were in this house,” I said. “I confess I was never meant to be any real part of it. But that’s a story for another time.”
I saw her dark eyes widen just slightly with that curiosity again, and I almost felt the urge to tell her just a little bit more – but I let it fade. We entered the clinical space, with its floor-to-ceiling white tiles and under-floor drainage system. I guided her around our refrigerated rooms for the storing of the bodies, and the tall cupboards where we kept our fluids, aprons, gloves, and tools.
By the time I’d concluded the tour, Grace looked fascinated, if a little bewildered. Her eyes lingered, especially, on the bodies beneath their sheets on the gurneys. It warmed my heart, to be able to share this world of mine with someone. Something about her quiet awe made it magical. I could see she was interested, really interested.
I had to wonder how on earth a twenty-one-year-old woman from a remote farm in the Dales could find herself here, wanting to assist me in a role like this. It did seem serendipitous. Rolling up my cuffs, I dressed myself in a gown and apron, and donned a pair of blue sterile gloves.
“You’ll need to wear a set of these, too,” I said. “And that hair will need one of these fancy blue bonnets, I’m afraid.”
Without a word, she dressed and covered her hair. I was surprised not to see even the slightest hint of fear in her; not a shiver, not a shaking of the hand.
