Bring Out Your Dead

 

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Introduction

This is Josiah Oakshott.  

You probably don't feel sorry for him right now, but you should and will.  Note the careworn expression, the slightly haunted look and the inclination to flinch at the slightest sound.  This is because Josiah Oakshott has one thing that you probably do not have.  He has an Archibald Thurble.

I am willing to bet quite substantial sums of money that you too would look and act like Josiah if you had an Archibald Thurble working for you.

To fully understand, you have to imagine what it would be like to know that you were ultimately responsible for the utter destruction of a crematorium, by reason of explosion, simply because you had inadvertently left Archibald Thurble in charge of embalming on one occasion.  You would have to imagine being called to the Police Station because they were holding Archibald Thurble on a charge of attempted murder, after he attempted to feed one pound of John Innes' Potting Compost to an ailing prospective client.  If you can imagine these things, then you may begin to understand why you should feel sorry for Josiah Oakshott.

All of this, of course, pales into insignificance in comparison to having Archibald Thurble accompany you on a trip to Spain, which is what is happening right now.

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Chapter 1

Archibald Thurble paced, agitatedly, in front of the huge windows of the Departure Lounge.  Josiah Oakshott, lost in his perusal of his cryptic crossword, was dimly aware of a shadow passing rhythmically across the, as yet pristine, crossword grid.   Eventually, when the passing of the shadow had achieved an almost stroboscopic effect, he felt obliged to comment.  Folding his magazine carefully, he looked up and said,

“Am I to understand, from your apparent agitation, Archibald, that aviation is not your preferred mode of transport?”

Archibald ceased his pacing and stared at his employer, blankly.

“Do you mean, am I afraid of flying?”  He asked, eventually.

“Yes,” Josiah sighed “that was my meaning”

“Well, I’m not afraid” Archibald said, defiantly.

“That is gratifying to know, Archibald”

“I’m not afraid.  I’m scared sh…”  Archibald saw the look on his employer’s face and swiftly corrected himself “I’m scared rigid” he amended.

“I see” Josiah replied, cleaning his glasses with the end of his scarf “but surely you must have flown before?  How did you cope then?”

“Well, I usually got pi…, I got absolutely bladd…” Archibald thought for a moment about his options and settled on “I normally have a few drinks”

“Alcohol?  Really?” Josiah ceased his work with the scarf and replaced his spectacles, the better to study his assistant.  “Well, I could not condone such a policy on a business trip such as ours.  However, I do have a mild sedative which might help.”  Josiah rummaged through his hand luggage and produced a small package.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr. Oakshott”  Archibald shook his head, violently. “Me mum said to just say NO to drugs”

The mere mention of Archibald's mother was enough to cause Josiah to wince.  Ophelia Thurble was Josiah's cousin on his mother's side and had been a long-standing irritation in his otherwise generally agreeable existence.  In fact, it was mainly due to Ophelia's insistence, and the subtle exertion of family pressure, that Archibald was in Oakshott and Underwood's employ at all.

“I’m not suggesting the ingestion of some Class A narcotics, Archibald.  These are very mild relaxants.  The sort you could buy at a local chemist’s.  They were prescribed for me a while ago, shortly after we had those problems emanating from the explosion at the crematorium.”

“Ah yes, I remember Mr. Oakshott.” Archibald had the good grace to look slightly guilty, “it’s not that I’m not grateful.  It’s just that my family reacts to drugs in odd ways.”

"They would do" Josiah muttered under his breath, out loud he said "It is, of course, entirely your choice, Archibald.  I was merely attempting to alleviate your evident distress"

"Oh, go on then" Archibald responded, grudgingly.

Archibald slumped into the chair alongside his employer, in the manner of a stroppy teenager, and swallowed the small white pill with a theatrical gulp.

"I do wish you had advised me of your phobia before committing yourself to this task, Archibald.  It might have been possible to source a replacement, in spite of the difficulty we had encountered."   Josiah was silently cursing his luck.  If he had known about Archibald's fear of flying it would have afforded him a, what do they call it these days? Oh yes, a window of opportunity. 

Certainly Archibald had not been his first choice of travelling companion to escort the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock Bart., DSO, FRSA back to the U.K. from the Baronet's ill-advised and, as it turned out, ill-fated sojourn in Spain.  However, the call had come at a time of periodic staff shortages at Oakshott and Underwood ('Understanding and Sympathy at Your Time of Need')  The concept of allowing Archibald to wreak havoc in his absence filled Josiah with such dread that travelling with him to Alicante seemed the lesser of many evils.

"Flying is, of course, statistically one of the safest forms of travel.  Much safer, by some measures, than bicycling, walking, automotive or even water-bourne transportation. "  Josiah opined, "Fear of flying is, like any phobia, therefore essentially irrational.  I understand that some specialists report favourably on the use of cognitive behavioural therapy , CBT as it is known, as a means of overcoming such fears.  Perhaps you might consider such a course of treatment, Archibald?" Josiah suggested, turning to his companion. 

There was no answer.  Archibald Thurble was as stiff as a board and had formed a perfect hypotenuse to the chair in which he had, so recently, been sitting.

******

“There’s something you don’t see every day”  D.S. Stone remarked, conversationally, as he returned to his study of the in-flight magazine.

“Hmm?”  D.I. Wood responded, without much interest, too engrossed in his e-reader to look up.

“Bloke strapped to a sack-truck, sir.  Looks like they’re wheeling their drunks on to this flight!”

“What are you on about?”  D.I. Wood snapped his e-reader shut in irritation.

“Look, over there.  Tall bloke in a black suit strapped to that sack-truck.  There’s a smaller, odd looking cove, pushing him.”

Sure enough, amongst the melee of holiday-makers attempting to force their bags into the overhead lockers, could be seen the sporadic progress of a small, dark-suited and distinctly unhappy gentleman pushing a truck containing the entirely rigid body of a taller, equally dark-suited man whose blank expression indicated that the lights might be on but there was definitely no-one home.

******

Josiah cursed, moderately but silently, as he attempted to manoeuvre the truck and a comatose Archibald through the throng.  As luck would have it, the flight had been called at the very moment that he had become aware of Archibald’s rigid form.  A little quick thinking on his part had led to the procurement of the truck from an adjacent retail store, in return for a hefty donation to the owner.  As a result, they had been able to present themselves at the required Gate, albeit after everyone else had beaten them to it.

The subsequent debate concerning whether Archibald should be allowed to board, had only been resolved by Josiah making a telephone call to Vasily Karadic, the owner of the budget airline and an old school acquaintance, calling in a few favours. 

With the plane filling fast, Josiah grabbed two aisle seats just one row apart, as the best option available.  He was just in the process of trying to force the unyielding body of Archibald into a sitting position when a voice came from behind him.

“The Captain says he’s got to be in his seat, strapped in, sitting up and taking notice, by the time we push off from the stand, otherwise, off he comes”  It was one of those curt female voices that was clearly enjoying exercising some authority for a change.

“I am entirely convinced…young lady…that he is…becoming more flexible…with each…passing minute” Josiah stopped pushing and straining for a moment to catch his breath.

Archibald was now at a 45° angle, but was still a long way from being seated and strapped in.

“You may reassure your Captain that my colleague will certainly be fit to fly” Even if it kills me in the process, Josiah reflected ruefully.

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Chapter 2

“Do you want me to have a word, sir?”  D.S. Stone began to lever himself out of his seat.

“Good Heavens, no, keep out of it.”  D.I.  Wood ordered, “Why spoil a nice little trip to the sunshine by getting involved in something that’s nothing to do with us?  Think of the paperwork!  Just leave well alone.”

“Ok, ok, I just thought…”

“Anyway,” D.I. Wood said, returning to his book, “they’re both known to me.”

“You know those two?”  D.S. Stone was incredulous.

“Oh yes.”  D.I. Wood responded, mournfully, “The tall one was in for attempted murder a while back.”

“What? Then surely we should be…”

“No.”  D.I. Wood replied, firmly, “It was all a load of nonsense, as I knew it would be.  You wouldn’t believe the bureaucracy involved.  It will be the same if we get tied up with this lot as well.  I’m keeping well clear and I’d advise you to do the same.”

“What did he do?”

“Don’t ask”

“Oh come on, you’ve got to tell me now”

“Ok, since you’re determined to find out. He tried to shove a pound of John Innes Potting Compost down the throat of an old dear he thought was dying.  That short bloke is his boss.  He sorted it all out, thank goodness, but if I never see them again it will be too soon.”  D.I. Wood returned to his e-reader with a certain determination.

******

After a great deal of effort, Josiah had finally managed to get Archibald seated and buckled in to his safety belt.  What is more, various facial twitches seemed to indicate the return of some form of consciousness to Archibald Thurble.  Thankful for any slight optimistic sign, Josiah collapsed gratefully into his own seat and nodded politely to the man and woman sitting beside him.  Heaving a, deeply felt, sigh of relief, he buckled his safety belt and sat back to study the safety video.  It had been a somewhat rocky start, he reflected, but surely the worst was over and nothing else could go wrong now?

*******

For Lawrence and Amber Hamble, this was proving to be an intriguing maiden flight.  What with the tall man in the dark suit being wheeled onto the plane and then his cadaverous smaller companion coming to sit with them, Amber’s agitation at taking to the skies had reached new levels.  She had only developed sufficient confidence to board the plane as a consequence of an intensive course of therapy, involving the distraction technique of snapping an elastic band on her wrist and taking herself mentally to her ‘happy place’.  Right now, the elastic was snapping at a rapid rate and her ‘happy place’ had disappeared behind a wall of barbed wire and Pit Bull Terriers.

It really wasn’t fair!  She had never wanted to fly at all and would have been quite happy to have holidayed in the Isle of Wight, again.  Lawrence, however, had a thirst for adventure and had insisted they should give Benidorm a whirl.  Lawrence!  She turned to look at her husband with barely disguised loathing.  He, of course, was blissfully unaware and was studying the safety sheet minutely.  Her mother was absolutely right, she should never have married him.  As she said at the time, it was bad enough finishing up with a name that sounded like a particularly bad stammer.

******

Josiah relaxed, as far as possible, in his seat.  He had found the Classical Music channel on the in-flight entertainment and, thanks to the headphones, was now being comforted by a blanket of Beethoven.  This brief interlude was disturbed, as the plane hurtled over the tarmac and began its ascent, by a tap on his left shoulder.

“How did I get here, Mr. Oakshott?”

Evidently Archibald was back in the land of the living.  Josiah reluctantly removed his headphones and turned to his companion.

“How are you feeling, Archibald?”

“Never better, Mr. O.  I’m sorry if I put you to any bother.  I did warn you about my family.”

“You did indeed, Archibald, and I would have done well to have heeded your wise counsel.  However, it is of no matter.  More importantly, we are now in transit and will soon be able to accomplish our mission.”  Josiah refitted his headphones and headed for Haydn.

“Can’t believe I’m going to Spain” Archibald burbled excitedly, “Never thought there’d be an opportunity to travel to foreign parts in Undertaking.  Me mum always said it was a good profession to get into.  She said, ‘Archibald, there are two things in this life that are certain and they are death and taxis.’  Do you think she got that right, Mr. Oakshott?”  The latter part of this was accompanied by Archibald tapping furiously at Josiah’s shoulder.

“What were you saying, Archibald?” Josiah asked, resignedly, reluctantly parting with his headphones again.

“Me mum said that the only things you can be sure of are death and taxis, but that doesn’t sound right to me ‘cos I’ve waited ages for taxis that haven’t turned up.”

“I believe, Archibald, that the quote to which your mother was referring was originally made by Benjamin Franklin and relates to the certainty of death and taxes, not taxis.  She is, of course, absolutely correct that the certainty of death does, happily for us, convert into a useful business model upon which we can rely for a relatively steady income.”  Regrettably, Josiah’s monologue had missed its intended audience as Archibald had been playing with the headphones and was blissfully unaware of his employer’s musings.  As Josiah turned and smiled at him, he realised that he might have missed something important.

“SORRY MR. O, I COULDN’T HEAR YOU ON ACCOUNT OF THESE HEADPHONES.” He yelled above the sound of Black Sabbath doing their worst, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

Josiah sighed and decided to summarise, “I SAID WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE”

It was rather unfortunate that this yelled utterance occurred at exactly the same moment as the pilot completed the ascent and throttled back the engines.  Josiah’s phrase echoed around the, now silent, cabin.

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