Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,32

closing in on me, my breaths hitched in my chest. This is it. How I’ll die. Only I could be killed by a still alive corpse possessed by the devil.

I sink down the door, hands pulling at my hair.

‘I need to get out of here.’ I rock my body and rub my arms.

The door suddenly opens, leaving me to fall onto my back. I look up to see the same guy and another younger man bent over, holding their stomachs, laughing.

I quickly scuttle up to standing. What the hell is so funny?

‘Sorry,’ he says, trying to pull himself together. ‘It’s just that we watch through the cameras and we’ve never quite had someone react the way you have.’

‘He moved!’ I cry, pointing towards a very still Lochlan. ‘His arm moved. He’s still alive.’

He walks calmly over to him, not worried in the least. ‘I can reassure you that he is dead. Feel his pulse if you don’t believe me.’ I’d rather bloody not.

‘But then why—’ Did I imagine that? Have I lost my mind?

‘Gasses releasing from the body can cause involuntary movements,’ he explains. ‘One of the many things you’ll learn working here.’

I frown back at him. ‘You mean, you still want me to work here?’ Surely they can see I’d be a damn petrified liability?

He grins. ‘Of course. We find that if people are forced to have their first freak out it gets it out of the way. Now we can crack on and train you. Can you start tomorrow?’

Chapter Seventeen

Thursday 8th October

So working in the funeral home isn’t actually the worst. I think after yesterday anything seems tame in comparison. It’s a bit like party planning, only I’m planning a party for a dead person and everyone is quite sad.

I think they’ve eased me in with doing this after my freak out so I haven’t had to see anymore dead people yet. Just lots of crying relatives, which does get you down after a while, but luckily I’m good at being sympathetic.

The only annoying thing is that I don’t trust Ella at the pub by herself. Thank God Clooney is there. Any kind of responsibility I give her, she screws up. I found her drunk when I got back last night. I get it, its bloody boring, but she needs to snap out of it and be a team player.

Today I’m driving the hearse, transporting a coffin to the church. That’s right, my first time driving the hearse and I have a dead body in the back. It gives me the heeby jeebies just thinking about it. I’m going with denial. Just taking a drive to church.

Seamus, the fifty odd owner that locked me in the room, is in with me at least, instructing how fast to go and where to turn. Luckily they aren’t letting me go faster than 20mph.

We’ve barely pulled off when I hear it.

‘No-one to wave me off. Bloody typical.’

I turn to look at Seamus. He stares back at me, his bushy eyebrows raised. ‘Keep your eyes on the road, please, Phoebe.’

‘Sorry,’ I mumble, shaking my head. I’m sure he spoke. I must concentrate. I feel like I’m taking my driving test again.

‘And look at this coffin. Cheapest in the range.’

Okay, I’m sure I heard something that time. I turn around, looking to see where it’s come from. It’s as if it’s coming from behind me. Seamus is staring at me again, lips pressed flat.

‘Sorry, Phoebe, is there a problem?’ he asks, his voice raised.

That’s when it hits me. It’s a joke. Of course it’s a joke. There’s no body in the hearse at all. This is one of those jokey initiation things just like being in the same room as the dead guy. Niall, Seamus’s son, must be in the coffin saying this stuff, pissing himself laughing. The cheeky bastards. Pair of right jokers I’m working with.

‘No problem.’ I giggle. Alright arseholes, I’m game.

‘If that cheeky bitch of an ex-wife of mine dares to show her face at the church I’ll have a good mind to haunt her.’

I burst out laughing. Seamus turns to stare at me incredulously. ‘Phoebe, what on earth is so fecking funny?’

‘Oh come on!’ I heckle, laughing so hard the odd snort escapes. ‘The jigs up. I know its Niall back there.’ I turn to face the back. ‘You can come out now, Niall!’

He frowns and scratches his neck, really committing to the prank. ‘Phoebe... what do you…?’

‘Come out, Niall! The joke’s up!’ I clutch at my stomach, tears