The dead body had been removed but the remains of life had yet to be cleared.
The lady had been lying for weeks before neighbours reported the smell.
Mr. Parfitt had been doing this job for fifteen years and had a procedure. Collect all documents that might tell him if there was a family, then pack up anything of resale value before bringing in the house-clearance firm.
Mr. Parfitt wore a paper suit and hat and breathed into a mask. He was too experienced in his job to worry about the dark stain on the armchair.
The photograph on top of the television was a close-up of a cat wearing a Christmas party hat. On the sideboard was the same cat sleeping on the settee.
The flat was full of pictures of the cat but none with people.
In a drawer he found a handwritten letter. ‘Dear Mum,’ it began. It was signed ‘Love Suzy,’ but carried no address. Mr. Parfitt put it in a folder alongside gas and electricity demands.
Encouraged, he rummaged in the sideboard finding another. ‘Dear Mum, I love you so much. You are the most wonderful mother anyone could wish for.’ It continued in purple prose for two pages of Basildon Bond, and was signed, ‘From your loving daughter, Suzi.’
Mr. Parfitt’s heart lifted, the lady had not died in loneliness, she was loved by a daughter.
He resolved to find her and after weeks of fruitless investigation he discovered the cat’s name was Suzi.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 