An Odd Bird

by Fiona McLoughlin

‘I got a job!’ Bríd shouted excitedly to her flatmate Cassie.

‘That’s great Bríd, congratulations, I’m delighted for you. Did the hairdressers open again?’

‘No, shur they may never open. Bloody Covid! No, in Kelly’s. I start on Monday.’

‘Kelly’s?’ ‘The Funeral Director’s?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you sure about this Bríd? How often do you sleep with the light on at night?’

‘Cassie! I’m not going to be working there at night. It’s nine to five, meet and greet. That’s all I have to do. It doesn’t pay much, but it’ll get me out of the house and it’s more than the dole. And it’s something different. A receptionist. I think I’ll be good at that.’

‘No bother to you!’

Honestly, Cassie couldn’t have guessed in a million years that her friend would take a job in a Funeral Director’s. It was beyond belief. Bríd who avoided wakes like the plague, and must’ve used every excuse under the sun not to attend any, even when she really should have. Bríd’s usual occupation was hairdressing and sometimes make-up although it was hit and miss with the latter. This new career change took Cassie by complete surprise and she wondered if Bríd was slowly losing her grip on reality having lost her job in the first round of Covid-19 lockdowns. It had been months now since she’d had a job. But funds were running low and needs must. Covid had been good for business and Kelly’s were hiring.

Bríd arrived early to her new job. The first thing she noticed was the smell. A stale, musty smell with a hint of chemicals. Unpleasant. Was this the smell of death, she wondered. It was eerily dark too. She quickly turned her thoughts to the job. How hard could a receptionist job be? She was good with people and could answer phones no bother. Bríd had even dressed the part – or at least her version of what she envisaged that to be. Dolly Parton’s character in “9 to 5” wouldn’t have had a look in!

‘Ah great, you’re here Bird’ said Mrs Kelly putting down her CV.

‘Bríd.’

‘Now Bird, do you have a driving license? Eddie, our driver, is off today and Marlon doesn’t drive.’

‘Well, yes, I do but I did mention at the interview that I don’t have a car.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter dear. We have one. Here,’ coaxed Mrs Kelly handing Bríd the keys to the hearse ‘all you have to do is drive to this address and collect poor Betty Murray, God rest her soul. Marlon will go with you. He knows what to do.’

‘But…’

‘Don’t worry dear’, and with that Mrs Kelly disappeared upstairs.

 Mrs Kelly, an English lady in her senior years, ran the business single-handedly. Her husband had died years before. She was very traditional in her ways and commanded respect from everyone. She had one middle-aged son, Marlon, who had worked with her since he left school. But she would never hand over the reins. The joke on everyone’s mind was that he must’ve felt like Prince Charles all those years, believing that he’d probably die never having actually done the job he was raised to do. Marlon was named after the handsome Mr Brando. His mother adored Brando. Unlike his namesake though, Marlon had more of a face for radio. He never married nor had children so there was no heir to the empire, something his mother goaded him about regularly. There were rumours of him with an older woman years before. There was also talk of money changing hands but nobody knew exactly what had happened. Mrs Kelly took no prisoners and got what she wanted. She was very manipulative while disguising herself as a helpless old woman.

Bríd and Marlon drove to collect the deceased, Betty Murray. She was to be waked at the funeral home. Manoeuvring the coffin was not the impossible task Bríd had thought it would be. Soon they were on the road again. When they arrived back, Marlon showed Bríd the room where the deceased would be laid out and told her to stay at reception in case anyone came. With that, he disappeared into the lift with the deceased.

Bríd headed to reception. So, this was going to be her work space. It had everything she needed to be a receptionist, she thought. A new beginning. Organising her workstation, she felt both excited and apprehensive about her new role. After a while, as she was swivelling around in her chair, Bríd heard Mrs Kelly calling her.

‘Bird? Bird? Can you come downstairs, please?’

‘Yes, of course, Mrs Kelly. I’ll be right there.’

‘Take the stairs dear. It’s quicker.’

‘Hello…?’

‘In here, dear.’

 Bríd entered a large sparse room lit with fluorescent lights. There was a sickening chemical-like smell. It made her stomach turn on entering. The deceased was lying on a plinth in the middle of the room fully dressed in her Sunday best. Bríd was a little confused as to why Betty Murray wasn’t upstairs in the wake room.

‘Now, dear, we all know that Betty was a very glamorous woman in her day. I think it would be only fitting that we do our best to make her look her best in death.’

Bríd stared from Betty Murray to her new employer and back again. What did she mean? Surely not…

‘I’ve been asking around, dear, and I hear that you are a very good hairdresser. And you also do makeup I’m told. It was one of the reasons I hired you’.

‘Oh no, Mrs Kelly, I applied for the receptionist job.’

Yes, of course you did, dear, but we all help out around here. I know you’ll do a great job. The deceased’s family are arriving in a couple of hours and poor Betty will have to be ready by then. Call Marlon when you’re finished and he’ll take her upstairs.’

‘But she’s dead Mrs Kelly, I’m not great with dead people’.

‘You’ll be fine, Bird.’

‘My name is…’ and with that Mrs Kelly was gone ‘…Bríd’.

Bríd closed her eyes in disbelief. How did she manage to get herself into this situation, she wondered. Bríd was always getting herself into ‘situations’. Only last week she was lifted by the guards. That particular evening, Bríd was all glammed up waiting outside the local posh hotel for a date to arrive. Bríd being Bríd made all the excuses of the day as to why she should wait just a little longer. An hour and a half later, she realised that she’d both been stood up and was in trouble with the guards. There was a report of a prostitute operating in town. A victim of Murphy’s law again.

She opened her eyes and thought about quitting. She didn’t sign up for this shit—doing hair and makeup on dead people. But she was over a barrel. If she didn’t have a job she’d have to move back in with her parents and the thought of that outweighed her fear of the dead. She took a deep breath and looked around for the necessary equipment. Everything she needed was there and the smell was becoming almost bearable.

Bríd lost herself in her work. It helped to imagine that Betty Murray was just sleeping and she’d wake up to a lovely surprise. She remembered how much she loved styling hair. To her amazement, the texture of dead people’s hair was the same as when they were alive. So, no problems there. There was, however, a slight problem with applying the makeup. One of Betty’s eyes kept opening. Each time Bríd freaked out. A dead eye looking at her! That same feeling as when she passed the fish counter in Supervalu—those dead fish eyes staring. Urgh! Luckily, there was a roll of Sellotape in among the makeup. That did the trick.

With half an hour to spare, Bríd was finished. She called Marlon to come and take Betty upstairs to the wake room. Marlon arrived minutes later.

‘That’s a smashing job you’ve done there, Bríd’ he said ‘very glamourous altogether. But what’s that on her eye?’

‘Oh feck! I almost forgot. I had to put Sellotape on it to keep her eye shut. Gave me the shivers. Just give me a minute ‘til I take it off. I don’t want to mess up the eye shadow.’

With that, Bríd carefully pulled the Sellotape off, only to take most of the eyelashes with it.

‘Oh Christ, Marlon, look what I’ve done!’

‘Don’t worry pet. Have you any of those ones like you’re wearing?’

‘You mean false eye lashes?’

‘Yes, love, shur one of them would do the job nicely, wouldn’t it?’

‘Maybe you’re right but I don’t have time to go and buy some now.’

‘Shur just take off one of yours. Stick it on with a wee bit of Sellotape. Nobody will know any different.’

‘Do you think that would work, Marlon?’

‘Yes, darling. The family won’t be here for another while. Plenty of time. I’ll wait here and take her up when you’ve it done.’

‘Thanks Marlon, I’ll be five minutes.’

Bríd quickly removed one of her own false eyelashes, attached it to Betty Murray’s dodgy eye with a small piece of Sellotape and applied a little extra mascara on both eyes. She topped-up the lipstick and was finished in no time.

‘No bother to you, pet. Beautiful’, said Marlon wheeling the deceased away to be laid out in the coffin and taken upstairs before the family members arrived.

Heading back to reception, Bríd breathed a sigh of relief. It surely wasn’t how she saw her morning panning out but, somehow, she got through it. Despite everything, she was chuffed with herself. Her first hair and makeup job on a deceased person went really well. Bríd thought maybe she could do this after all!

Marlon had Betty Murray all laid out in the wake room in good time. The eldest daughter, a very successful business woman, arrived some time later. Bríd greeted her and offered her condolences. Then she directed Betty’s daughter to the wake room and returned to reception. Bríd had no sooner sat on her swivel chair when she heard an almighty scream.

‘Bird!’ roared Mrs Kelly ’Bird!’.

Bríd bolted.

‘Bird, lock the front door!’ yelled Mrs Kelly but Bríd was gone.

‘You’re home early’, Cassie said as Bríd walked in the door, ‘how was your first day?’

‘Don’t answer the phone if it rings! And don’t answer the door either!’

‘Is something wrong? Did you see a ghost!?’

‘I’m not going back. Betty Murray’s daughter actually screamed when she saw her mother. Mrs Kelly is livid…and she kept calling me BIRD!

‘What?!’

----------

Later that night Cassie was watching the local news.

‘Bríd, come here quick! It’s the funeral home on tv!’

‘What?! Oh Jesus! They’re going to arrest me!’

‘Shussh!’

On the news that night was a picture of the funeral home and one of Marlon. A scandal was unfolding. The newsreader reported that a man in his 50s had been arrested. Gardai declined to comment further. Since the arrest, several previous employees had come forward with disturbing allegations. Payoffs and bribery were also mentioned. The news around town was that Marlon was seen being dragged from the funeral home by two gardai. There was red lipstick all over his face and what looked like a false eyelash stuck to his forehead. Mrs Kelly had fled.

Bríd found herself back at the dole office signing on the next day. The whole town heard what had happened and were taking the piss out of Bríd for doing such a ‘good’ job on Betty Murray that Marlon couldn’t resist. She couldn’t see the funny side of it until months later. Eventually, she looked back on it as a silver lining though. At least Betty Murray looked glamorous ‘til the end. Bríd always was a bit of an odd bird.