Getting parked was always a nightmare at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, it didn’t matter if you were here to pick up a dead body. Indy took a ticket from the machine and parked the van as close to the mortuary entrance as possible. Hannah watched her turning the wheel, calm as usual, and thought about her mum and dad back in the Skelf fridges. They’d been kept in their coffins and tarpaulins for now, but they’d need to be tidied up before the cremation.
Indy parked and breathed out. ‘Let’s get Erin Strachan.’
Hannah touched her hand on the handbrake. ‘Are you OK?’
Indy smiled. It might have been convincing to someone who didn’t know her, but Hannah’s heart ached at what was behind it. It didn’t seem right that they had work to do when everything around them was so chaotic, when they were digging up parents and investigating aliens, a jaguar on the loose and body parts in bushes, a man hanging from the tree in their garden. But the world kept turning and Erin Strachan had to be given a respectful send-off.
They removed the gurney from the back of the van, telescoped the legs and pushed it to the mortuary entrance. Buzzed and were let in. The corridor was like any other in the hospital, except that when you were wheeled along here it was all over.
They were met by a middle-aged woman in blue gloves and mask. Behind her lay a withered old man with his skull cut open, skin peeled back, brain sitting in a tray alongside.
‘Hi, Indy,’ she said in a bubbly tone. She had a dark bob and kind eyes.
‘Hi, Marion.’ Indy waved a form. ‘Here for Erin Strachan.’
Marion nodded as she took off the gloves, threw them in the bin and pulled her mask down. ‘She’s over here.’
She took them round the corner to a huge grid of body fridges built into two walls. Hannah started counting from the top left and gave up after thirty. There was so much death in a hospital. She knew that wasn’t front-page news, but seeing it was overwhelming.
‘Are these all full?’ she said as Indy wheeled the gurney behind Marion.
‘About half,’ Marion said over her shoulder. ‘We need lots of capacity, just in case.’
Hannah nodded. They reached the fridges and Marion stopped. Each door had paperwork attached on a magnetic clip. Marion checked one, took the form from Indy and compared them, then passed both to Indy, who did the same. It was routine, check and check again. Hannah didn’t officially work on the funeral side of things but she wanted to come with Indy for support, after what just happened at Porty Cemetery.
Marion pulled the fridge door open and slid the tray out. There was a small body in a white bag. This was all completely normal. This was life and death for everyone on the planet, just a day’s work for Marion. What a way to live.
Hannah stepped closer as Marion unzipped Erin Strachan. They always did a visual check. Marion had a photograph stapled to her paperwork, and Hannah knew they were super careful about making sure funeral directors took away the correct body.
Hannah looked at Erin as Indy and Marion compared her to the picture. Hannah had expected an old woman. The vast majority of funerals were for old people, and she understood Indy’s sense of purpose on those jobs. If someone has a long and full life, it’s much easier to celebrate it.
But Erin was the same age as Hannah, maybe younger. She had the same long black hair, which needed a wash. A wisp had fallen across her face and Hannah wanted to reach out and push it away so Erin wouldn’t be annoyed. As if reading her thoughts, Indy pulled on gloves and did exactly that.
‘Erin Catherine Strachan,’ Marion read from her sheet. ‘Twenty-one years old.’
The same age as Hannah, right enough. The bag was only unzipped a small way down but Hannah glanced inside to see if there was any evidence of how she died. She looked peaceful, eyes closed, chest still, face pale. It could’ve been Hannah sleeping in there.
‘Confirmed,’ Indy said.
Marion saw the questioning look on Hannah’s face. ‘A massive intracerebral haemorrhagic stroke. She was playing tennis, felt dizzy, keeled over apparently. Never recovered.’
‘Did they discover why it happened?’ Hannah said.
‘She didn’t have any risk factors.’
‘It was just random?’
Marion shrugged. ‘Sometimes it just happens.’
‘Christ.’ Hannah swallowed, felt a weight in her guts.
Marion waved up and down the wall of fridges. ‘Each one is a tragedy.’
She zipped up the bag. It must be lonely in there. Hannah wanted to hug Erin.
Indy handed the glove box to Hannah, who put gloves on as Indy moved the gurney to the side of the tray. Hannah went to Erin’s feet and gripped her ankles through the bag. They were cold, like milk from the fridge. Hannah felt a shiver up her arms to her chest.
‘On three.’
They lifted Erin onto the gurney and wheeled her to the corridor as Marion closed the fridge. They stopped and Marion got Indy’s signature, gave her a copy of the form.
‘Have a nice day,’ Marion said. There was no hint of irony or sarcasm in her voice.
‘You too,’ Indy said.
They wheeled Erin to the van, collapsed the gurney and lifted it into the back, closed the doors. It was all over for Erin. One minute hitting a tennis ball, the next blood flooding her brain and she was gone.
‘How do you stand it?’ Hannah said.
Indy looked at her. ‘We’ve talked about this, Han.’
‘I know but it’s too much.’
‘Not for me.’
‘What about your mum and dad?’
Indy touched the roof of the van. Hannah felt the distance between them, wanted to narrow it. She’d come here to do that, but she just felt worse.
‘Come on,’ Indy said. ‘Let’s get Erin home.’