Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,46
Damn. I know, I’ll get a chair.
I find one and drag it into position next to him. I jump up, lean over and brace myself. He’s just a normal person that has sadly died. He’s not going to come back to life. He’s not going to jerk. This is fine.
I take a deep breath as I reach for his nearest wrist, attempting to just pull up his suit jacket sleeve to see. I don’t want to actually touch his skin. I’ve never touched a dead person’s skin before and I have no idea what it will feel like. Would it be cold? Slimy?
Ugh, where is this damn identity bracelet? I’m going to have to touch him. Deep breath, Phoebe. Do it for the grieving widow. You can hardly show her in for her to then announce that he’s not her husband. That would traumatise someone for life, and definitely get me fired.
I place one hand on his, shocked to feel that although it is cold he’s not beyond freezing and his skin feels kind of normal. I move his sleeve all the way up but still no bracelet. Damn, it must be on the other one.
That side of the coffin is pressed up against the wall. I have to reach over and take his hand, as if holding it.
‘Sorry about this, Garrett. Just want to check you are who I think you are.’
I reach my hand up his other sleeve and finally feel it. Result! I pull it down to see his name written on it. Thank God. I fist-punch the air victoriously. Only… it seems I’m a bit too enthusiastic because I feel the chair wobble beneath me. Oh no.
My body is thrown forwards, my forehead hitting something squishy. I grab the sides of the coffin, steadying myself. I quickly realise I just head-butted the dead guy in his dick. Ugh, vom.
I push myself off him, falling onto my back on the floor. Jesus, Phoebe. Way to respect the dead. I dry heave a few times. This job is the worst.
I get back up to standing, straighten my clothes down, blow my hair from my face and attempt to pull myself together. You can do this.
I put on my sad face and walk back out to the widow, clutching my hands in front of me, just like they taught me.
‘He’s ready for you,’ I announce, showing her through and leaving her to it.
When I get to the front desk, Patricia comes back in.
‘Oh no, is Mrs McCarthy here?’
I nod. ‘Yes, but don’t worry. She’s in with him.’
Surprise flits over her face. ‘Did you make sure to check his identity bracelet?’
‘I did,’ I answer proudly. ‘All done, just as you taught me.’
‘Ah, excellent.’ She beams back at me. ‘I’ll watch it back tonight and let you know anything you might have missed off for next time.’
‘Sorry?’ I laugh nervously. ‘Watch it back? What do you mean?’
‘I mean on our CCTV.’
Now I remember Seamus and Niall watched me on it when they put me in with that dead man, Lochlan.
‘We have to have it. We went through a period a few years ago where some nutcase was breaking in and trying to have sex with the dead.’
I gasp. ‘That’s horrific.’ Not as horrific as when she sees me head-butt the dead guy in the balls.
‘Indeed,’ she nods, ‘but we’ve found it helps with training.’
‘Great,’ I grimace. Yep, just great.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Hey,’ I say, dumping my bag onto the bar after another long day at work.
Ella is already sat there with a large wine. I smile at Clooney. Never before have I wanted to run into someone’s arms so much. It’s like he’s a magnet, some unknown force pulling me towards him. I have to fight it with all of my being, knowing that he’s wrong for me. It’s becoming exhausting.
‘Can I have one of those too?’ I ask him with a pout, motioning to Ella’s wine.
‘Jayses, you can get it yourself. I’m not your slave.’
I baulk, shocked at his sudden rudeness. Now I look at him properly I see that his shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. Where did this mood come from?
‘What the hell crept up your arse?’
He glares back at me and goes to clean the other end of the bar. Moody, pathetic man.
‘Lost a bet, I think,’ Ella whispers. ‘Some horse or something that didn’t come in.’
I watch him stomping around the place. How could one little lost bet affect his mood so greatly? Has he lost a lot