Grave Concerns by Rebecca Tope Page A

years. Never went anywhere without him alongside. Died in his sleep last night. Mildred’s very distressed. It’s been one tragedy after another this past year. She’s in the car with him.’ He waved an explanatory hand towards the parking area, where a large blue-grey Volvo estate sat.
    Drew was slightly taken aback. ‘You’d like it all done now, would you?’
    ‘Is that a problem?’
    Drew thought quickly. A labrador-sized coffin wasn’t readily obtainable at such short notice. If he was to add a pets’ cemetery to the services he offered, it ought to be done properly. Some human beings might take exception to sharing their last resting place with an assortment of other species – although he personally rather liked the idea. What an idiot he’d been not to think of this before! It would have made another page in the brochure he’d already produced and sent out.
    Lacking a proper mortuary, he always tried to get funerals performed within three days of the death – a return to more traditional timetables which had so far appealed quite strongly to his customers. Jeffrey was on permanent standby for gravedigging. Drew looked the man in the eye, aware of the grief lurking just below the surface. A lot of people kept wives a much shorter time than he’d had his beloved dog …
    ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he promised. ‘Will you want to be present at the interment?’
    ‘Of course. Can we leave him here with you, then?’ He stared critically at the small building behind them.
    ‘Certainly you can,’ said Drew. ‘Part of this building is for the safekeeping of bodies.’
    ‘What time tomorrow?’
    ‘Ten-thirty? I’ll need a name and address. The grave will be over there, between the two beeches—’ He pointed at a corner where the field lost all sense of geometry and the hedge incorporated two sizeable beeches and a handsome oak.
    The man led Drew to the car. A shrouded figure lay stiffly along the back seat. Drew was unsure about carrying it on his own with any show of dignity. Where was Maggs when he needed her? And wasn’t he leaving that strange woman with his baby for rather a long time? But at the back of his mind, excited calculations were going on. If people were prepared to pay two hundred and fifty quid for a dog’s grave, he ought to set aside at least half an acre for them. Even one a month would make a major difference to his finances. Should he broach the subject of memorial plants, he wondered? Was it likely that these people would want a nice little mahonia or hellebore on the grave?
    Mildred was soft and sad, peering at him hopefully from the passenger seat. ‘Can you do it for us?’ she asked. ‘We read about you and thought this would be perfect. We haven’t got a garden of our own any more, you see.’
    ‘I’ll be pleased to help,’ said Drew easily. One of his resolutions from the outset had been toavoid gushing platitudes or sloppy euphemisms. Only reluctantly had he adopted Peaceful Repose as his trademark. He’d wanted to use something much plainer – Natural Burials had appealed quite strongly – but Maggs and Karen had dissuaded him. ‘You have to keep some of the reassurance,’ Karen had said. ‘Even ecology freaks like to think their dead person will rest peacefully.’
    He hefted the rigid dog to the tiny cool room behind his office, having taken the basic details. Hubert and Mildred Grainger then drove off forlornly without their faithful companion. This was definitely a job for Maggs, he decided. Let her phone round and find something respectable to bury a large dog in.
    ‘Sorry to be so long,’ he said, almost running through the office door. ‘Business, I’m afraid.’
    Genevieve Slater was on the floor with Stephanie, running a toy train around the limited space between desk, filing cabinet and chairs. She looked up, her face very pink.
    ‘That’s OK,’ she smiled. ‘We’ve been getting on famously. Was it something interesting?’
    Drew hesitated,