Free Fruitful Bodies by Morag Joss Page A

There was a fatal incident in Bath this morning, and we’d like to rule out Mrs Takahashi if we can. We’d like your assistance with identification, though of course her next of kin—’ Just then Ivan swayed on his feet and sat down heavily on the bed, turning to his wife with a face that was stunned and white.
    ‘Oh, Hil, how can—I didn’t think we’d have to do that kind of—’
    Hilary came forward protectively and placed her arm across his shoulder. ‘My husband isn’t good at taking shocks. He mustn’t be given sudden shocks, he reacts badly. Poppet, come back to the lounge with me and sit down.’
    ‘No, no, I’m fine. Fine now,’ he said, standing up. ‘Don’t worry about me. You’re the one who needs looking after.’ They exchanged another of their looks. All four hands were now earnestly kneading one another.
    Hilary looked at Andrew, who appeared to be waiting for something. ‘You don’t mean right now? It’s after eleven. Do you really want my husband going off to identify a body at this time of night?’ She looked up at her husband with concern.
    Andrew pursed his lips, feeling almost nauseous. Perhaps it was jealousy. It was of course late, in other people’sterms. He tended to lose sight of that kind of thing, but if he were honest, the reason he was still calling on people at close to midnight had less to do with dedication to his job than with postponing the moment when he had to return to his depressing flat, because he had been assuming, with a combination of gloom and angry pride, that he would not go back to Medlar Cottage that night. He was still feeling piqued at how Sara that afternoon had in the space of a minute grown so remote, extinguishing any glimmer of sympathy or understanding for the position in which his job placed him. Suddenly all he wanted was to get back to her, the unreasonable, adorable, demanding bitch, and he still had to deal with Cathy and Heathcliff here.
    ‘It is late, but if you’re agreeable, sir, I’ll take you over to the mortuary now. Best if we can get the ball rolling. We don’t want any unnecessary delay in informing next of kin, and confirming the identification, as I’m sure you’ll understand.’
    It was horribly easy to say the right thing sometimes, Andrew reflected, as he drove down the hedge-lined lane that skirted the village of Limpley Stoke and turned the car on to the main road. Ivan sat beside him, calm. Andrew had come straight out with the right words, about next of kin and all that, when what he actually meant was let’s get on with it so that I can get back to the person I love most in the world and who I have upset yet again and who I am terrified might suddenly have decided she doesn’t want me. But the official, responsible thing came pinging out of his mouth, even out of his brain, more automatically (as well as more grammatically) than any expression of his personal wishes, and that was exactly what froze Sara into an unresponding block. Whether his job had begun tochange him into a machine or a monster he was not sure, but his responses to things too often fell short of simple human ones. It was true that he did not wish any delay in identifying the body. But it was also true that he wanted Ivan Golightly’s confirmation of Mrs Takahashi’s identity within the next hour, so that he could be back with Sara to begin convincing her all over again how much he loved her.

CHAPTER 10
    Y ES, THAT’S NICE . Nice, lyrical opening phrasing you’re giving us, yes, this lovely phrase—tyaa da daa tyaa da
dum!
—that’s quite good …’ It wasn’t, actually, it was barely kind of adequateish, but for the sake of everyone present—for the crowd of about a hundred (very respectable for a Sunday morning masterclass), for Tom who was in the back row openly reading the
Scotsman
, for the aspiring pianist herself and, Christ knew, for himself—James Ballantyne was trying to move the thing on, so that he could get off the stage