The Mourners

Kate stood quietly amongst the mourners, their rhythmic gestures responding to grief that wasn’t theirs to share. A sea of black canvass waiting for a drop of colour to lighten the mood; her heart sank.

Two weeks in and Kate was just starting to understand the enormity of her role. The first week had been a discussion on the topic of grief, talk about funerals in general, and a get to know everyone. She was told that all she would need to do was watch and learn from the others. She walked out that first week feeling confident that she could pay back the loan sharks fairly quickly; the job was well paid and she would only be required to perform once a month. The second week was where the training began.

“Nice to see you again Kate,” said Richard, looking her up and down, finally settling on a breast and an eye almost simultaneously, she half-smiled and politely shook his hand whilst scanning the room for a place to position herself. “You excited to find out about the deceased this evening? Always gets revealed in the second week” said Richard, rubbing his hands together. They don’t tend to tell us the gory details of the deaths, just expect us to deliver the goods, fair play I reckon, as I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Erm…well yes I suppose so,” said Kate, a little nervous.

“What’s your memory Kate?” said Janet, a fifty-something retired grandmother of four. “It’s hard to keep thinking of 'em, sometimes I just pretend in me head, you know, I think about terrible things that could happen in the future, this always does it. I think this week though boss is gonna help us out a bit.”

“Oh…erm…well I’m…well to be honest,” Kate said, “I’m not sure really, I’ve had a pretty happy life, so…”

“Ok ladies and gents, as promised last week our client this month will now be revealed shortly, get those tears ready. To help you along we have prepared a short video about the deceased’s life and the lives he touched” said the young, enthusiastic vicar.

As the video on a big screen began to play, Kate saw his crinkled face, that dirty fat cigar, heard that nostalgic tune, saw the iconic all in one tracksuit, the laughter of children, and began to weep for herself.

“This month’s client everybody..." said the Vicar, with a sudden surge of delirium, as if he was revealing God himself, "is… Jimmy Saville’s sister.”