Human Remains

done my best to eat. It still felt strange, unnecessary; I think if it had not been for their cautious monitoring of me I wouldn’t have bothered to eat at all.
    The celebrant brought the service to a close and we all got to our feet. The doors opened at the front of the room and we filed out into the drizzle. We looked at the three floral tributes outside, and after that there was nothing to hang around for. I said thank you to Len, all previous awkwardness between us forgotten, and shook his hand before he turned up his collar against the rain and headed back to the car park, hunched into his coat.
    ‘Annabel? I’m off now.’
    It was Kate. I had to focus on her hard to remember who she was, even though I’d sat opposite her every day at work for the past three years.
    ‘Oh, right. Thank you for coming. It was… kind of you.’
    ‘That’s alright. I was really glad to get the invite.’
    ‘I didn’t do the invitations,’ I said automatically. ‘That was Sam.’
    ‘Oh! I see. Well…’ Her cheeks were flushed.
    ‘I mean – sorry. That was rude. I’m just surprised to see you.’
    She frowned at me. ‘Why should you be surprised? We’ve all been worried about you, you know. I know you think – God, this is awkward – it always feels like you don’t want to be in the office with us. I wish you’d join in a bit more sometimes.’
    Now it was my turn to be shocked. ‘Really?’
    ‘Of course.’ She smiled at me and for once I was almost sure it wasn’t all an act. After all, there was just us. Nobody she was trying to impress, nobody she was showing off for.
    ‘So… who’s this Sam?’ she asked. ‘New boyfriend?’
    For a moment I was so taken aback I couldn’t reply – how could someone possibly think…? But then she went on, ‘He’s a cutie. Where did you meet?’
    She was looking over my shoulder. I turned to see Sam talking to one of the ladies who had come from the social club. He was smiling at her, his head inclined towards her so she could hear him, dark hair falling over his eyes.
    ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I said, shocked.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘He seems very nice, anyway.’
    ‘He is – he’s lovely.’
    ‘But not…?’
    I shook my head.
Not my type
, I thought, not having any clue what my type actually was, nor why Sam wasn’t it.
    ‘We miss you at work, you know that,’ she said. ‘I mean it. They all send their love.’
    ‘I’ll be back soon,’ I said. ‘Maybe Monday.’
    ‘Take as much time as you need,’ she said. ‘But it would be good to have you back.’ She turned to go, but hesitated and came back to me. ‘You know Frosty’s got a whole pile of billings? He’s pretending that he knows what to do with them, but you know…’
    ‘Billings? For the job?’
    ‘Yeah. I mean, I could look at them, but it’s your baby, isn’t it, this one? I don’t want to interfere with it.’
    ‘He never said.’
    ‘He’s probably trying not to put you under pressure to come back, but you know – if it was me – I’d want to be involved. You don’t mind me telling you?’
    ‘No, of course not. And you’re right – I do want to be involved. Thanks, Kate.’
    She headed back towards the car park. I watched her go, feeling a buzz of excitement inside. I’d not been looking forward to going back to work, remembering that feeling of isolation, but actually speaking with Kate had made me feel a bit more cheerful about it. She hadn’t had to come to the funeral, but she’d made the effort, not just to be there but to speak to me afterwards. Maybe things would be better from now on. And now I had a real purpose, a task to do.
    Back at Keats Road, Irene had cooked a roast lunch which I had to force down, even though it was delicious. I’d forgotten what hunger felt like. The atmosphere around the table was subdued, which must have been on my account. Every mealtime since I’d arrived had been conducted to the accompaniment of bright conversation and laughter. Brian was a joker, always starting off long anecdotes about friends, work colleagues, Irene or Sam, with a twinkle in his eye which I’d worked out meant that it was a complete fabrication and at the end of it would be some corny punchline. His method of delivery was always the funniest bit.
    ‘Don’t mind him,’ Irene had reassured me, the first time this happened. That particular story had taken twenty-three minutes to tell from one end to the other, partly because he’d been distracted