As William folds his morgue clothes ready to place in his locker, his heart plunges at the sound of Ray’s voice. It’s Monday, week two. After a full day of working alongside Arthur, he’s looking forward to getting back to the Finches’. He wonders what the question in the envelope will be and whether Gloria will be wearing her checked slippers tonight, or if she’ll be barefoot, with those small toes that wriggle about in their stocking covers as she sits on the counter swinging her legs. He hopes the envelope he’s just slipped into his briefcase will give him something to talk about with her. She enjoys anatomy as much as he does.

‘What?’ he says, without looking up from folding his plastic gown.

‘Can I come to your digs tonight so we can work together on the theory?’

‘That might be awkward.’ William finally looks Ray in the eye, but continues folding. ‘I live with a family and I don’t know what the deal is with visitors.’

‘No worries’ – he remains upbeat – ‘you could come to mine. I’ve got beers.’

William glances at his watch. 5.05. Dinner at 7.00. If he goes to Ray’s, helps him as quickly as he can, he could be back for tea, and the rest of the evening wouldn’t be disrupted. If Ray comes to the Finches’, he might never get rid of him.

‘I can come for an hour now, but that’s it. They’re expecting me for tea.’

Ray’s smile is genuine, a rare showing of his even teeth. ‘Thanks, William. I could do with a hand.’

It’s the truth. Twice this week William’s heard Ray’s tutor say they’ll need to spend more time together on his assignments.

‘I live just round the corner.’ Ray stuffs his gown into his bag in a big ball.

‘If you fold it, it won’t look such a mess when you put it back on.’ He’s sick of looking at Ray across the embalming table in his gown that’s so rumpled it doesn’t even hang straight.

‘I’ll do it later.’ He grins, patting William on the back. ‘Let’s get this bloody homework out of the way.’

‘It’s not much, but it’s home – isn’t that what they say?’