How to Say Goodbye. Katy Colins

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СКАЧАТЬ sense to make sure the people of Ryebrook know what we’re able to offer. Great – I think that’s everything. Back to it, team!’

      *

      ‘What do you think about tribute wreaths, dear, the ones that spell something out, like “Nan” or “Poppa”?’ Ms Norris asked, shuffling through the pamphlets spread in front of her. ‘I’ve never had my name in lights so maybe my name in petals is the next best thing? But, then again, perhaps they are a little on the garish side. I don’t want people to go away from the day discussing the lovely service that was ruined by an in-your-face flower arrangement.’

      ‘Hmm.’

      ‘Or, even worse, imagine if the florist made a mistake with the spelling! Grace?’

      ‘Sorry,’ I shook my head. ‘I was miles away.’

      ‘Please tell me it was some delicious daydream about an attractive man?’

      ‘Er, no.’

      She let out a deep sigh followed by a wink. ‘Shame. Well you were certainly lost in some deep thought. You need to watch you don’t get wrinkles frowning away like that.’

      I raised my eyebrows dramatically to iron out any creases. ‘Sorry, very rude of me. What were you saying about flowers?’

      ‘That can wait. Come on, tell me what’s on your mind. I’ve not seen you looking so perplexed before.’

      I wafted a hand. ‘It’s just a work thing.’

      ‘Linda?’

      ‘No – listen, it doesn’t matter.’

      ‘Oh blimey, Grace, will you spit it out? A problem shared is a problem halved.’

      I took a deep breath. Over the many months of Ms Norris’s weekly visits we had built up an odd friendship, one I felt that I could trust enough with what was going on in my head.

      ‘Well, I feel like I need to do something to attract more business. Linda is doing a really good job at bringing in more prepaid funeral plans, and I just feel like I’m letting the side down.’

      ‘Ah, and how is Lovely Linda managing to go about this?’

      ‘Cold calling mostly.’

      She let out a sort of ‘pfft’ noise.

      Linda had no fear of calling a very recent widower, or grieving parents, and making it seem like she was helping by reminding them they ought to be considering their own funeral plans. I was much happier in my comfort zone of funeral planning, and getting lost in the detail of personal preparations. I thought it best to leave the families to focus on their grief after the funeral, not to be pestering them to think about how they wanted their own big day to be.

      I found it unbelievably tough to ask someone if they’d thought about their own death and, if so, what they wanted their funeral to be like. Of course, I knew how important it was to get things laid out and decisions made so you didn’t burden those left behind, but it’s still not something people actively choose to think about. Judging by Frank’s latest team meeting, I was going to have to get over this, and quickly, whether I liked it or not. My stomach churned at the thought of it.

      Ms Norris scrunched up her neat nose, thinking. ‘Hmm. Well, you both have different skill sets so the key would be to maximise on yours. I read that once, in a Bella magazine article, I think. Anyway, what I’m saying is that you’re a people person. You’re excellent at planning and have a lovely bedside manner. So, do that.’

      ‘Sorry? Do what?’

      ‘Well, I imagine many people are fascinated by what you do, but don’t have a clue what that actually is. Why don’t you tap into that and use it as a way to break some of the negative stereotypes people must have, as well as encouraging people to get their funeral plans in place?’

      I looked at her blankly.

      ‘What I’m thinking is for you to host a sort of Ask a Funeral Arranger event. You could make it a nice and relaxed evening with a friendly, informative Q and A, to show people how warm and lovely you are so they don’t feel like they’ll be getting the hard sell. In fact, you don’t need to sell anything. Just being you will be enough.’

      I tried to hide the snort that escaped as she said that. ‘I’m not sure.’

      ‘We could pick some of your excellent bakes and serve them with tea and coffee – that would certainly bring the crowds in! I know no one can resist a slice of your apple flapjack.’

      ‘Your apple flapjack,’ I corrected her.

      I appreciated her help, but there was no way I could stand up in a room full of strangers. The thought alone made me feel itchy and uncomfortable. My preferred position was behind the scenes; Linda was the one who took centre stage.

      ‘You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m sure you would surprise yourself. Right, I’d best be getting on, but think about my idea. I’d make sure to come along so at least you would know one friendly face!’

      ‘Thank you.’

      I led her to the front door and helped her with her coat. Her heart was in the right place, even if her suggestions were a little off the mark.

      ‘Oh, and Grace?’ I turned to see a wide smile on her cheeks. ‘Happy birthday.’

      She patted a five-pound note into my hands and left.

Chapter 4

      Most of my morning had been spent on the phone to the crematorium, trying to stay calm as they explained that staff shortages had meant a host of unexpected delays. They also, like everyone else, tried to blame the recent snow flurries for interfering with their schedule. I downed my second cup of strong coffee, more than my daily quota, just to get me through the nerves of passing on this bad news to the families desperate to lay their loved ones to rest. Each phone call only brought frustration that I couldn’t do more. I also still had to work out a way to get some prepaid funeral plans under my belt. It had been a week since our last staff meeting and I had brought in precisely zero, to Linda’s three. I’d be taking Ms Norris up on her Ask a Funeral Arranger idea at this rate.

      My stomach grumbled so I decided to take a break and have some lunch. I was tucking into a tuna salad when there was a ring on the doorbell. I stopped chewing and peered at the intercom. Frank had positioned it too high, so all I could see was the dark blonde head of a tall man bobbing around the entrance. I double-checked the calendar on my desk; we didn’t have anything in the diary. Swallowing too quickly, a piece of romaine lettuce lodged in my throat as I pressed the buzzer.

      ‘I’ll be right there,’ I rasped, taking my finger from the button to cough louder.

      I hurriedly flicked through the diary again. Usually, family visits were arranged so we could make sure they went undisturbed and – crucially – ensure that we wouldn’t be talking with our mouths full of lunch. I scanned Linda’s messy desk and saw a Post-it note stuck to the bottom of her laptop screen. Callum Anderson visit, 27th @1pm. That must be the man bobbing up and down on the doorstep. Cursing Linda and СКАЧАТЬ