Keeping A Lid On It (Bring Out Your Dead series - Part 16)

Continued from Episode 15 - Lying in State?"

The story so far (you can read from the start at 'Board Stiff!'):  Josiah and Archibald, our two Undertakers, are on a mission to Spain to collect the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock.  So far, hardly anything has gone to plan but, they finally have their man, so everything else should be a mere formality, shouldn't it?  Meanwhile, Amber and Lawrence have taken to the road, bound for their B&B.  Well, that was their original intention...

"It was that first roundabout that did it!" 

Lawrence and Amber Hamble were hunched over coffee in a small bar in El Altet, on the outskirts of Alicante.  Lawrence was trembling gently and had a slightly haunted look; Amber was moodily stirring her coffee.

"I know, dear," She said, in what she hoped was a supportive tone, "but we will need to try again.  We've still got quite a long way to go." 

Amber had reviewed her options and had realised, to her horror, that Lawrence and the hire car were her only means of getting a bed for the night; hence a gentler, more understanding approach was called for, if Lawrence was not to become even more of a quivering wreck than normal.

"It's bad enough, figuring out which way to go, without all the police and repair trucks blocking the way."  Lawrence shivered violently, transferring a good deal of his milky coffee to the saucer in the process.

"Yes, I know" Amber nodded and patted his shaking hand, "I thought for one moment that you were going to go straight over it!"

"Well, somebody had, from the look of it!"  Lawrence pointed out, "Anyone would have thought a Chieftain tank had been through, what with the rocks and bushes thrown everywhere"

"Do you think you'll be able to try again?” She asked, “in a little while of course" She added, hurriedly.

"Just let me have my coffee and get my bearings.  I'll be fine."  Lawrence averred with more confidence than he actually felt.

“I’m sure you’ll soon get the hang of it” Amber said, brightly, “it’s just a matter of putting your mind to it!”

“Balls!”  Lawrence muttered, distractedly.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Bearings!  Ball-bearings!”  Lawrence rushed to explain, “just an association of ideas, dear”

“Hmmm” Amber looked unconvinced.

******

"I wonder if I might have a few moments alone, with the deceased?" Chantelle smiled sweetly at Josiah and Archibald.

"Well…" Josiah hesitated, "it is usually the prerogative of close family members."

"Oh, I quite understand" Chantelle reassured "but, you see, Sir Lewisham and I had a very…special connection"

Josiah looked sharply at Archibald to nip any sniggering in the bud, but Archibald was clearly transfixed by the cleavage heaving gently in his sightline and was oblivious.

"I think, under the circumstances, we may be able to allow you a minute or two" Josiah conceded, "My colleague and I will be at the roadside if you need us.  I have to make a few telephone calls to arrange for Sir Lewisham's onward transportation." He confided.

"I'm most grateful" Chantelle fixed him with her beautiful blue eyes and beamed at him, causing a certain reddening of Josiah's usually pallid complexion.

"Come, Archibald, we must leave Miss…erm?

"Lace.  Chantelle Lace" Chantelle beamed again.

"Miss Lace to pay her final respects"

Archibald dragged himself, reluctantly, from his detailed inspection of Chantelle's considerable assets and trailed Josiah out of the Undertakers', with many a backward glance.

Once she was certain that she was alone with the coffin.  Chantelle began her investigation.

"Frankie!  Frankie!" She hissed.  There was no reaction from the apparent corpse, smiling benignly in the coffin.  She reached in and gently felt his wrist - was there a faint pulse?  She couldn't be sure, but the body didn't have the cold, stone-like feel that she would have expected from a late Frankie Knight. 

What had happened?  He couldn't have died, and been attended to by an undertaker, in the brief amount of time since she had last seen him.  Yet, here he was, in a coffin, apparently lifeless.  There was something decidedly strange about all of this.  She had a sinking feeling that this might be all part of Frankie's 'plan'.  Which begged the question, if that was the case, were these two undertakers in on it, or were they just as much in the dark as she was?  She had to find out.

******

Out on the main road, Josiah was engrossed in a call to Samantha back at base.

“You’ll be delighted to hear, my dear, that we are finally in possession of Sir Lewisham’s remains” There was a pause whilst he nodded and said, “Yes, yes, I thought you would be pleased.  Hmmm?  No, no problems at all.  I’m just hoping that you might have something for me, too?”  There was another pause, during which Josiah blushed slightly.  “Although that is most gratifying to hear” He said in a loud whisper, “I meant in relation to our onward transportation back to the U.K.”  There was an even longer pause during which Josiah’s countenance moved from mildly hopeful to deeply troubled.  “Do you mean to say” He asked, eventually, “that your friend, Mr. Dunleavy, still will not allow us to travel via his airline and, because he won’t entertain us, no-one else will, is that the nub and the gist of it?”  The pitch of his voice rose markedly during this exchange.  After another, brief, pause, “Give me strength!” he yelled, and terminated the call.

Archibald stared out at the brilliant blue of the Mediterranean and thought of Chantelle's eyes, amongst other things.  The sound of the waves lapping onto the sand and the gentle caress of the sea breeze all added to his reverie.  He was miles away, in a very happy and comfortable place, when the screech of his employer brought him plunging back to the here and now.

"Well, that's just dandy!"  Josiah covered his face with his hands and breathed deeply.

"What's up, Mr. O?" Archibald asked.

"It would appear, Archibald, that we remain persona non grata as far as the aviation industry is concerned."

"You what?"  Archibald looked puzzled.

"I mean, that we cannot, apparently, fly back to the U.K., with or without a corpse in our possession.  No airline will touch us, following the debacle of our enforced disembarkation in Paris."

"Oh!"  Archibald considered this state of affairs and cheered up a little, "Does that mean we've got to stay here for ever and ever and ever?" He asked, excitedly.

"No, it does not, Archibald!"  Josiah snapped, "How could we, when we have a professional duty to deliver Sir Lewisham to his final resting place by the end of this week?  Have some sense!"

"What we gonna do then, Mr. O.?"

"At present, Archibald, I have no idea." Josiah replied, gloomily.

****

Chantelle was in the slightly ridiculous position of having her left ear clamped against Frankie's chest, in a desperate effort to determine whether he was alive or not, when Archibald lurched back into the room.  Quite which of them was the most embarrassed, it would have been difficult to say.  Chantelle was the first to recover her composure.

"I suppose you're wondering what I was doing?"

"Oh no, miss," Archibald lied as he turned quietly puce in the full glare of Chantelle's cleavage, "Only Mr. O. said I was to put the lid on the coffin if you're finished with the st…, the deceased?"

"Well, just to put your mind at rest, Sir Lewisham used to like me to rest my head against his chest, so I thought I would do it again, one last time.  Just to show my respects, you understand?"  Chantelle smiled sweetly, but a steely glare dared Archibald to question her.

"Yer…yes, of course." Archibald nodded, furiously, "If you're sure you've finished, I'll just get on, shall I?"

Chantelle still couldn't be sure whether Frankie was alive or not.  She had thought she heard a faint heartbeat, but she could have been imagining it.

"I know this is going to sound ridiculous but, do coffins have air holes?"  She enquired, innocently.

"Well, no miss" Archibald stated flatly, as he hauled the lid onto the coffin, "there's not much call for it, if you get my drift?"

"Yes, of course, silly me!  I'm afraid that this whole dead body business has rather thrown me.  I don't know how you cope.  It must take someone with very particular qualities to work in your profession" Chantelle fluttered her eyelashes at Archibald, who promptly trapped his thumb between the lid and the side of the coffin.

"Fu…" He winced and gained control of himself before continuing, "Strewth! Not sure about that, miss.  Mr. O. says it’s a calling, but I’ve never heard nowt. It's just a job, I reckon.  It's like anything else,”  he shrugged, “you get used to it."

Archibald decided that the best way to distract himself from Chantelle's overpowering presence was to focus on his work.  He set to with the screwdriver with particular purpose.  After a few minutes, he stopped and looked at the coffin with bemusement.

"Anything wrong?"  Chantelle asked, sweetly.

"Well, it's funny.  I've just been screwing…" The collision of Archibald's words with his underlying train of thought caused him to temporarily lose his way with the conversation, "I mean, I've been fixing, well, trying to fix the lid to the coffin, but the screws don't seem to be long enough.  There's something wrong.  I'll have to go and tell Mr. O."

Had it been a cartoon, a small light bulb would have illuminated itself above Chantelle’s head.

“Oh, I wouldn’t concern him with it.  He seems like someone who has rather a lot on his plate, at the moment, don’t you think?”  She looked at Archibald, innocently, with eyebrows raised, “Perhaps it’s just the way they do things around here?”  She suggested, relying heavily on the British tendency to believe that anything done in a foreign country will inevitably be inferior to the British practice.

“D’yer reckon?”  Archibald asked, doubtfully.

“Well, it could be, couldn’t it?”  Chantelle smiled winningly at him, “it would be a little embarrassing if it turned out that this was exactly how it should be, eh?  Perhaps it’s something to do with Customs?”  She added in a moment of inspiration.

“What, like Morris Dancers and Maypoles and stuff?”  Archibald frowned.

“Well, no, I was thinking more about the Customs Officers having access to the coffin when it enters the country.”  Chantelle explained, patiently, “after all, we could be smuggling anything in this, couldn’t we?”

“Oh, right, got you!” Archibald nodded and, with some relief, set back to work with the screwdriver.  “I’ll go and tell Mr. O. that I’ve done” he said, eventually, when the last screw had been put in place.

Archibald leaving the room gave Chantelle one last chance with Frankie.  She levered the lid up and hissed at him

"Frankie, if you're not dead, you're going to wish you were by the time I've finished with you!"

She couldn’t be sure, but she strongly suspected that his fixed smile had just got a little broader.

Now read on with Episode 17