Smile - Episode One

Peter looked into the mirror at his reflection. His eyes looked wired, and his skin seemed so pale. Had he slept? He wasn't even sure. So much had happened in the last couple of days. From the tragic news of his brother to the weirdness that came after. It was hard to keep it all in his head.

From the moment Peter's brother died everything had become a blur; the seconds; the minutes; the hours. The world continued rolling on; night to day and day to night; but at break neck speed. 

Only a few crucial moments stood out in all the haze. Peter remembered sitting on the sofa with Christopher’s arm round his shoulder. Christopher was talking to him; kind loving words Peter was sure; but he hadn't heard a single one. It was as if the world was on mute and Peter didn’t care.

Peter remembered trying to sort out funeral arrangements; money was tight and it was so close to Christmas. It should have been an impossible task but it took Christopher only minutes of searching before he found something.

“Pete. Look at this. The All-Smiles Funeral service, I don’t think this one’s too expensive," Christopher said passing the article to Peter. “Do you want to call them?"

Peter looked at the article and remembered what Adam had said. His dying words, All Smiles. But he couldn’t have meant this could he? Would that really be his last thought before he died, funeral arrangements?

The Phone call was just as much a blur as everything else. They could do it before Christmas and within the price range, that's all Peter could remember. The funeral director would be round later that day to sort out the finer details.

Peter stared at his reflection, he felt guilt that they had to think about what was in their price range. He had hoped Adam didn’t mind; he told them where to go after all; or so Peter had thought.   

His next memory was of Christopher kissing him goodbye; and moments later the doorbell ringing. Peter peered out the window to see a bright blue hearse with cloud decals parked in the driveway. The doorbell rang again. 

“All Smiles," Peter thought. “What have I let myself in for now?"

At the door stood a tall thin man in a light blue suit; thankfully there were no clouds; although there were some on his tie.

“Good evening. I am the director from the All Smiles funeral service," the man said, and he wasn’t lying. Though he had a long thin face, he had the biggest smile Peter had ever seen. All the time the man spoke, the smile never left him. It scared Peter a little. It reminded him of a clown without make-up, but a mask all the same.

The funeral director followed Peter down the hall to the kitchen, but stopped half way to studying one of the many photos that adorned the wall.

“Who’s the photographer?” the director finally spoke after scrutinising the picture for some time. 

“Me, actually.”

“Yes. You’ve captured that magnificently.” He gently stroked the picture in question with one long bony hand. “Black and white photography always seems more striking then colour” he turned to Peter, “don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more, I mostly shoot in black and white.”

“And mostly deal in the living form it seems?”

“I can’t lie.”

“It fascinates me you know,” the director seemed completely absorbed in the photos again. ”How something as simple as light and shadow can alter how you see something. It can make the ugly beautiful, and the beautiful ugly. It can age a child and take an adult back to their youth; only for a split second; but one frozen for eternity” The director studied Peter’s face for a moment then walked past him into the kitchen.

“Ah, but now this one is different.” The director had found another photo, much larger than the others, and in colour.

“How so?” asked Peter “Because it's in colour?”

“All the other photos are for art. But this one, this is for love. And it’s the only one you’ve given a title.”

Peter laughed. “It’s not a title, it’s her name. It's what we used to call her.”  

“Old Girl” The director nodded his head before setting himself up at the kitchen table.

“Right then; let me first explain Mister..?" The director paused.

“Just Peter, thanks."

“Fantastic. You can call me Jacob. As I was about to say; at the All Smiles funeral service we believe in celebrating the deceased's life, not mourning a living person’s death."

“Right, that’s good," Peter knew it sounded right but the way the man spoke made it seem a little wrong.

The two men sat for an hour sorting through everything. All the way through it the director kept his smile. Though Peter swore that every time he looked away the director’s smile turned thin and his eyes grew narrow. Was he staring at Peter maliciously? But when Peter turned back, that same smile still greeted him. It must be in his head. Thankfully, the director had only a couple more questions than it would be finished.

“You said Adam was a journalist. Do you know what he was working on? Could be something we could add?"

Peter had to think as he didn’t always take it in. “Something to do with cowboys I think?"

“One more thing; you've chosen a closed coffin for the service?"

“Yes."

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer open? My brother is also an artist. He’s as fascinated with the living form as you" the director proudly stated; passing Peter a page of photos of what appeared to be people sleeping. “My brother may be a little slow but he really does the best work. They look alive, don’t they?"

Peter shuddered. Was it standard practice showing pictures?

“No, thank you" Peter replied as he ushered the creepy man out the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

“Adam has already been brought to the parlour. I took the liberty after you called." the director said as he walked to his hearse. “We will see you on Wednesday; and remember Peter; keep smiling.”

Keep smiling. Don't you have to be smiling to begin with to do that? Peter tried to smile in the mirror but he looked ridiculous. It was all ridiculous and getting more so by the hour. 

When Christopher had returned home later; Peter decided to ring Adam’s boss Malcolm to update him personally as he knew they were close.

“Peter. I’m so sorry about Adam" said Malcolm when Peter finally got through on the phone. “He will be missed. He was a good man; an excellent reporter and a close friend. If there’s anything I can do please just ask.”

Peter thanked Malcolm but told him they had everything covered, even the funeral. It was arranged for Wednesday. When Peter told who it was with however, Malcolm fell silent.

“Malcolm, are you still there?” Peter asked.

“I’m sorry it was just a shock.” Peter could sense something in Malcolm’s words and feel the weight of the silences in between. Malcolm didn’t just sound sad, there was something else there. "It’s just; I don’t know how to say it.”

Christopher mouthed ‘what’ to Peter; in response Peter turned the loud speaker on before pressing Malcolm further.

“Please just say it as it is.”

“It’s about the article Adam was writing" Malcolm continued.

“Right, about cowboys wasn’t it?"

“No, not cowboys. Like cowboy mechanics, dodgy builders that sort of thing."

“Oh."

“The thing is; it was about dodgy anything; even funeral parlours."

“What?"

“He said he heard some disturbing things about this All Smiles place; there were rumours about bodies going missing; how the staff seemed a little, inappropriate. And now you tell me they have his body."

“Oh my god. What the hell do I do; they’ve got Adam’s body? Do I ring the police?”

“And tell them what. We have no proof they’ve done or are going to do anything. And if they have; you can't let them know you are on to them. But for all we know it could just be rumours.”

“What the hell do I do then? I don’t want my brother’s body there if there is even the slightest hint of something dodgy.”

“I know someone who could help; someone who deals in the more, complicated situations.”

“I haven’t any money for a private detective.”

Malcolm laughed, then apologised.

“When they hear your story they will help. They generally don’t accept money because they simply enjoy the adventure; and don’t worry they aren't private detectives.”

“Who are they then?”

“Huxley and Finch” Malcolm said with what sounded like a pinch of pride; as though just knowing them was enough to stand taller. 

“They are mostly discreet and always get results. A spooky funeral parlour sounds right up their alley.”

Malcolm passed on Huxley and Finch’s number and told Peter to ring them soon, very soon, preferably as soon as they got off the phone.

“Okay I will. Thank you Malcolm I’ll let you know if we find out anything.”

“And Peter, good luck mate” said Malcolm before Peter could put the phone down.

“Thank you, this All Smiles sounds truly terrifying.”

“No, I meant with Huxley and Finch”

“Why?”

“They have a way of doing things. Sometimes they can make things a hell of a lot worse before they make them better.”

“But they always make things better?”

“In the end.”

“That’s going to have to be good enough for me.”

There was a click and the line went dead. Malcolm was gone, leaving Peter with too many questions swimming around in his head. There was nothing else for him to do except call the new number, so he did. It didn't take many rings before someone picked up.

“Hello, Huxley and Finch” said the voice of what sounded to Peter to be an older lady; which was not what Peter was expecting.

“Hello. My names Peter.”

“Well, I say Huxley and Finch but of course I’m only half of Huxley and Finch. I’m the Finch.”

“Nice to...”

“Sorry not ‘The Finch’, that would be silly. I’m Betty Finch. And the other half’s Barbara Huxley. Not my other half; my partner in the business; the one that talks sense.”

“Right,” Peter was beginning to regret this phone call. “I’m ringing because I need your help.”

“Of course you need our help; why else would you ring?”

“Malcolm gave me your number.”

“Newspaper Malcolm?” Betty’s voice sounded excited.

“I guess?”

“Brilliant, I always wondered what happened to him after the Brighton incident.”

“Brighton incident?”

“You know when the Brighton Pier...”

“Betty discretion, remember” said another slightly muffled voice. “We don’t talk about our other adventures.”

“Not even the really cool ones” Betty’s voice sounded a little sulky.

“Betty, what do they want?”

Peter gave Betty a quick rundown of the events leading up to the phone call.

“Peter, Malcolm was right. Sinister smiling funeral directors who may or may not have been snatching bodies; is without question so up our alley; it’s through the door and sitting on our sofa waiting for some tea.”

That was Peter's day; and now here he was at the end of it staring at the reflection of a complete stranger. Everything felt different now; like the whole world and all in it had been tainted. But his biggest question of all; why hadn’t he cried yet? He had waited for it to come, any second now. But it hadn’t. Did he even feel sad?  In fact, did he feel anything at all?

Tomorrow Peter would be seeing Huxley and Finch. He hoped that while helping to get his brother back; they could help him find himself too. 

To Be Continued Tomorrow...