Viridian Tears. Rachel Green
or traditional burial. “Would you like me to leave you alone to discuss it?”
“Mebbe.” The old man bent to confer with his daughter.
She spoke up. “What if we wanted a traditional cremation?”
Eden sighed. It was always a possibility. People were always afraid of the new. “Then you’re quite free to choose another funeral service. We’ll keep the late Mrs. Claremont here at no charge until the new company collects her. I could give you a list of names if you like. They’ll all take care of a cremation for you.”
“But not you?”
“I’m afraid not. Our results are more efficient and ecologically sound. But you can still end up with your loved one in a decorative urn, if that’s your wish.” She stood. “I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes. Can I offer you some refreshments at all?”
Mr. Claremont tapped the leaflet explaining the cryomation procedure. “It says here you press the…” He struggled with the word. “…remains into a one of a variety of shapes. Does that mean I’ll be able to take her home? Bury her in the garden, like?”
“Yes. That’s the beauty of the process, sir.” Eden smiled. She’d already spotted his fingernails worn down to the quick with dirt ingrained beneath them, a sure sign he was a keen gardener. “They’ll keep indefinitely if they’re kept dry but if buried they’ll rot away to nothing in three to six months. That’s why the process is loosely termed ‘composting’.”
Mrs. Johns gripped her father’s arm. “But there are plots here, aren’t there? If we wanted one.”
“Of course, both for composting and traditional funeral. Either way, we have a huge variety available as we’re so new.” She patted his arm. “Bury her in the garden by all means, Mr. Claremont. There’s no law against it. Plant something over the top of her, perhaps. Did she like roses?”
“She did, but she won’t be there to appreciate them. Besides, I want to grow potatoes there now. Would that be all right, do you think?”
“Dad!” Mrs. Johns let go of his arm as if he’d given her an electric shock. “Don’t be awful.”
“The remains are perfectly sterile.” Eden clasped both her hands in front of her. “However, for decency’s sake I’d suggest you avoid root vegetable for the first year.” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll leave you to talk about it, shall I?”
She left through the staff-only door and cross the hall to the small kitchen. She poured herself a coffee from the pot and leaned back against the sink, inhaling the aroma while it cooled enough for her to sip.
The door opened and Emily stuck her head in. “Are you done with your clients?”
“Not yet. I’m just giving them five minutes to talk it over, why?”
“There’s a couple at reception asking about plots.”
“So?”
Emily fidgeted. “It’s a bit weird, to be honest. They want to buy plots for themselves.”
“So? A lot of people arrange their own funerals. We can accommodate them. We’re not even at ten percent capacity yet.”
“It’s just a bit odd. She’s a lot older than him and from the way he’s talking it sounds like he intends to do her in.”
Eden stifled a yawn. “Sorry. All right, I’ll have a word with them. Would you take a pot of tea in to the Claremont party and give them my apologies? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.” Emily showed such a degree of relief that Eden felt slightly guilty about leaving her to deal with the front-of-house guests to begin with. The number of staff was too small not to have everyone covering all the work but honestly, Emily was rubbish on the front desk. She was, however, an absolute genius with make-up and taxidermist’s putty.
She went through to reception where a young man of twenty-something was studying a plan of the cemetery while an older lady she assumed was his mother studied the paintings on the walls. Eden was pleased to see her smiling at the Portrait of a Suffocation. It really was one of her best pieces of the previous year. “Hello. I’m Eden Maguire, the owner of Eden Gardens. Can I help you?”
“Yes please.” The young man smiled at her. He was really rather handsome, in a Johnny Depp sort of way. “We want two burial plots and one burial plan.”
“Just one?” Eden pulled out her folder of burial options. “May I enquire what you were thinking of?”
“Nothing too expensive.” The young man pointed to the cemetery plan. “Which are the cheaper plots? The ones fathest from the amenities?”
“More or less. It also depends upon how long you want to rent the plot for. If you want to rent it in perpetuity it’s obviously more expensive than renting it for a few years.”
“Renting?” He turned up the corner of his mouth. “I though you bought plots in perpetuity. You know…in the ground for ever.”
“There’s certainly that option, sir.” Eden turned to the relevant page in her catalogue. “But many of our clients aren’t exceptionally wealthy and wish to only rent the space for as long as it’s needed. We encourage it, in fact. How many times have you walked through a cemetery and seen overgrown or broken graves? Often it’s no fault of the family of the deceased. It’s just the descendants have either moved away or died themselves. We prefer to make such plots available for re-use. It’s good for us, it’s good for the people visiting their loved ones and it’s good for the environment.” She leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Did you know they’re building an underground necropolis in Mexico? There’s just isn’t enough land to bury the dead in a civilized manner. Do we want that happening in England?”
“Of course not.” The woman smiled at her. “You sound like a very sensible and shrewd woman, Miss Maguire.”
Eden pressed her hand. “It’s Mrs., but thank you.”
“How long does one generally rent a plot for?” The young man returned to the plan. “Presumably one would build in a redundancy for the length of time it takes a body to rot away plus a number of years. What if there are still descendants visiting when the lease runs out?”
“Then we offer an option to renew.” Eden found the page with the relevant information to show him. “The decomposition of a body can take anything from three months to twenty years, after which all that remains are the bones. We generally offer a lease of ten years, twenty being a maximum. Extensions are in ten-year increments.”
“After which time the body is disinterred and what?”
“This is only our first year of business but our projections are the dead will undergo a reduction to powdered remains.”
“Cremation?”
“Not exactly. We use a cold process that’s better for the environment.” She turned to the page showing a diagram of the procedure. It was no accident the diagram resembled the one illustrating the circle of life in all basic biology texts. “We envisage a return to the earth afterward.”
“And the grave site will then be available for re-use?”
“Theoretically, yes.”
“So if we bought one plot we could both use it?” He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “My wife and I would like to be together for as long as it matters.”
Eden swallowed her surprise at their relationship and hoped it hadn't shown on her face. “It’s impossible to say when a plot will be available for repeated use but you could always stipulate a re-burial later, if the earlier occupant hasn’t yet…”
“Decomposed?”
Eden smiled. “I was going to say ‘embraced the cycle of life’ but ‘decomposed’