I cannot bear to look at the strange stiffness that was once my mother yet again, so I allow PC Jenifer Tomlinson to lead him up to her bedroom. I sit in the drawing room alone. DS Stephen Badminton and Aiden have left. The DS has more important matters to attend to than the death of an elderly woman. Aiden spent ages in the bedroom with Mother’s body, but now has gone back to his flat in Chelsea. He said spending time with her had helped with closure. But he wanted to go home to cope with his grief alone. I’m not ready for closure. Not yet. I am still in the first throes of shock.

The boys are still at school, and are off to stay at a friend’s house tonight. So at least they are spared any angst for now. You and Hayley are pottering about in the kitchen. Saffron, you did not want to see my mother’s body, as you felt too squeamish about it. I hear the periodic clatter of dishes as the dishwasher is unloaded.

Time stops. I sit in the drawing room, back in my mother’s arms as a child. Snuggled in her arms, head leaning on the cushion of her breasts.

‘I love you, Miles. I’ll love you forever.’

That is what she always used to say to me, every day when I was young. Tears roll down my cheeks as I realise I will never hear her say that again. Never hear her voice again. Never watch her ready smile light up her face.

After what seems like hours, but when I look at my watch I realise is fifteen minutes, Dr Pettyfour reappears with Jenifer Tomlinson. He stands running his fingers through his floppy hair in the middle of our drawing room, shoulders wide, legs slightly apart. You have appeared and are standing in the doorway, Saffron.

‘I cannot ascertain the cause of death. I’ll have to refer this to the coroner’s office,’ Dr Pettyfour announces.

You turn paler than pale.

143

Saffron

Keep calm. Breathe. Breathe. I was expecting this.

144

Miles

‘The coroner’s office? What does that entail?’ I ask.

‘They’ll send a coroner’s officer to examine your mother’s body. I’m very sorry, but I expect they will need to perform an autopsy.’

‘An autopsy?’ I stammer.

‘Yes. It is a requirement when death is unexplained.’

It feels as if a knife is stabbing me repeatedly in the chest. The thought of my mother’s body being desecrated is giving me a panic attack. Saffron puts her arms around me and I cling to her like ivy.

145

Saffron

We’re talking to the funeral directors today, even though we’re not sure when your body will be released. At the moment it is too early to set a date.