Just a cheap artificial one – covered with brightly-coloured tinsel, blinking lights, and little plastic angels – but it lent the dissecting room a slightly festive air. They’d even managed to find a big star for the top of the tree: a nodding Elvis doll that twitched and lolled every time a refrigerator drawer slammed shut. All shook up. It wasn’t exactly Santa’s grotto, but at least they’d made the effort. Sandra leaned back against the sink, mobile phone jammed between her ear and shoulder, eating a Chicken-and-Mushroom Pot Noodle. ‘Kevin? Hello? You there?’ Pause two, three, four. ‘Pick up, OK? Kevin?’ The answering machine went bleep. She glanced at the pale mass of flesh on the cutting table, body cavity hollowed out and empty. ‘Kevin? I’m gonna be late, OK? We’re up to our ears in some fat bastard got himself hanged. I won’t be round till later.’ Sandra shovelled a forkful of noodles into her mouth and mumbled her goodbyes. ‘Love you.’ Then hung up.
