An Individual Will Read online

  Chapter Seven

  Amberton County Mortuary is attached to Amberton General Hospital, which is situated on the outskirts of Amberton on the south side, en route to Little Canley, a village less than half a mile distant. The hospital, a modern development, has its address and main entrance on South Cross Street, a main road running south east out of Amberton – residential on one side with lakes and forest on the other. The mortuary’s main entrance is on a side street called Barn Gate Road, sometimes mistakenly rendered as Barngate Road.

  Nothing was said on the journey. Alan Mansfield had got into the back of the car like a suspect and sat in the middle staring out the windscreen with his hands clasped between his knees. The day had clouded over, the sky moving hills of white and grey. I parked the car and turned off the engine. We sat for a moment without speaking. Finally, we made eye-contact in the rear-view mirror, and I turned round to do it properly. “In your own time, sir,” I said softly.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Yes.”

  I got out of the car and opened the back door for him. He climbed out and smiled bleakly at me. For no very good reason, I took his arm and we walked into the mortuary together. Raymond – informed of our arrival by the reception nurse – had come up to meet us. He was wearing surgical greens, including a cap and mask. He said quietly by way of acknowledgement, “Barbara; Mr Mansfield.” He did not introduce himself. “The bereaved aren’t interested in who I am,” he had explained. “Why should they be? I am a functionary with a grim function. No-one wants to hear, ‘Hello, I’m Raymond Burton, your pathologist, and I’ll be showing you your dead relative today. Thank you for coming.’”

  Behind, or beyond, the surgical greens, Raymond was a quietly handsome if slightly unkempt man two years my senior. Had he troubled to shave and shampoo regularly, he’d have had matinee idol good looks. I liked him better for not caring, though. He could be grossly and humorously insensitive in the face of death, but in the presence of relatives became still and solid and self-effacing.

  I stood beside Alan as Raymond folded the sheet down off Adrian Mansfield’s face. There was no shock or physical reaction. He simply said, “Yes, that’s Adrian Mansfield, my son.”