‘But this is a vacancy at a local authority crematorium,’ said Cooper. ‘Maybe operators in the private sector earn better money.’

‘I doubt it. No qualifications needed, you see. There aren’t many jobs like that these days. The sort of job a kid could go into straight from school, with no A levels.’

‘What’s this Cremator Technicians Training Scheme, then?’

‘On-the-job training, like. You learn the ropes from your workmates as you go along. Maybe there’s some kind of NVQ you can get.’

Cooper tried to picture the sort of teenager who’d want to leave school after his GCSEs and become a crematorium technician. There must be some, but he didn’t think he’d ever met any. A career spent burning dead bodies wasn’t one he’d ever heard recommended by a career advisor at High Peak College.

He studied the advert again. ‘It looks as though the cremator operators are the same people who act as chapel attendants. I never realized that. I always thought the men in black coats were the undertaker’s people.’

Murfin took a sniff of his coffee and put it down on his desk, where it joined two more cups half-full of cold, scummy liquid.

‘Me, too.’

‘That’s a bit tough, isn’t it? I mean, you might get used to the burning part. The bodies would mean nothing, after a while. It would be just a way of earning a living. But before you do the cremation, they make you mingle with the bereaved family …’

‘What are you getting at, Ben?’

‘It seems to me that would make the job quite different. Much more human. It’s the human aspects that are most difficult to deal with.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Murfin. ‘I’d much rather view a dead body at a murder scene than break the news to the victim’s family.’

‘Exactly. People find emotions in others difficult to deal with. You never know how they’re going to react, whether they’re going to burst into tears at the wrong word. It would make you see a crematorium job quite differently.’

Now an image was starting to form in Cooper’s mind of that elusive school leaver. He saw a tall youth with bad skin, awkward in a black suit that was two sizes too big for him. A bright enough lad, but lacking in confidence and social skills, frightened of other people and their unpredictable emotions. He would be acutely embarrassed among strangers, averting his face and refusing to make eye contact. But the awkwardness would drop from him like a cloak when he found some task that interested him, something he could do well.

‘You know this crematorium,’ said Murfin, taking the bag of jelly babies from his desk and peering inside to see what was left.

‘Yes, Gavin?’