Etta Russell (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} funeral_bell) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 20somethings,@ 2022-03-30 16:07:00 |
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Who: Etta Russell, Maria Warrington
What: Passing on some details
When: Wed 30th March
Where: Bell & Russell Funeral Directors, Diagon Alley
Warnings: Death, werewolves, family estrangement
Completion Status: Complete
The shop front of the Bell & Russell Funeral Directors on Diagon Alley looked like a combination between a formal sitting room and an office. There was a formal desk in the corner, complete with phone line and computer, as well as more traditional parchment and quill. There were also two comfortable formal chairs at a small side table and an actual two-seater sofa and chair around a coffee table. There were small arrangements of lily-heavy fake flowers (of the highest quality), and a scattering of brochures on hand which made the purpose of the office clear. All in all it was a slightly old fashioned looking space with some modern hints, in neutral tones with quiet wordless music playing through discreet speakers in the corners. The windows were large, but carefully frosted to protect the identity of any clients who might want it.
Etta Russell was sat behind the desk in the corner with several small stacks of papers in front of her and a box at her side, with two of the drawers open as she organised. They had received an order of reprints of several of the brochures and forms they used regularly and she was using a quiet moment to refill the drawers and check that everything was in the correct place. She was wearing one of her collection of black dresses, her posture straight, knees together and feet tucked to the side for comfort.
As the door opened she automatically looked up with a professionally neutral, but welcoming expression and nodded. She smoothed over her lap and stood. "Good day, I'm Etta, how may I help you?" she asked.
Maria had been surprised when Kieran asked her to run a couple of errands for the Belby office - it appeared she’d been moved up from stamp licker, chair stacker, and tea maker to errand boy - but she’d agreed if it would help them out. She’d only been in the office for about ten minutes before she had a list in hand and had headed out into the bustling street. Maybe she’d stop on her way back to get lunch for her and Kieran. She swore he didn’t eat enough - there was just something thin and worn and straggly about him at all times.
She entered the funeral home feeling underdressed and out of place, despite not being there for services or anything. She’d never been to a funeral, come to think of it. But she was surprised when she looked up and saw a familiar face. Etta Russel had been a Gryffindor a year older than her in school. “Etta?” She asked. Then again, her list of stops included Bell & Russel so she shouldn’t be so surprised? But she hadn’t put it together. Her greeting wasn’t the most polite and she was technically on ‘business’ so she gave an abashed, thin lipped smile and then said, “I’m here from Belby?” She didn’t know how this was supposed to go, she was just supposed to drop off some papers and take some information about a funeral Belby was arranging for a Were who’d died and had no family.
Maria had sort of even known the guy. He came to the Saturday group. But he hadn’t been in last weekend, and according to Kieran had passed. She hadn’t asked for details at the time, but she’d snooped and read the papers on her way there - really, Kieran should have known better.
Scott - the dead Were - had died of an overdose. He’d been self-medicating, Maria knew because he’d talked about it during group more than once, but she didn’t know it was that bad. But either way, Belby was paying and arranging the thing, and he’d be cremated after a small service at the funeral home. Maria didn’t have the stomach to be curious about where his ashes would go.
“Oh, Maria,” Etta replied, surprised but gentle. “It’s nice to see you again.” She remembered Maria a little from school, but she hadn’t particularly kept in touch with her. She quickly scanned her memory of their current clients and came up blank for a Warrington, which is what she recalled Maria’s surname being.
When Maria clarified she nodded briefly, the individual immediately coming to mind. “Of course,” she said. “Let me just go and collect the file and I’ll be right with you. Please, take a seat wherever you like,” she said, gesturing at all of the various seating options.
She hurried through the closed door leading to the corridor which housed the more private rooms, both meeting and viewing rooms as well as the private office. It was perfectly safe to leave the front empty as they didn’t store any sensitive information there and never left the laptop unlocked.
“Someone is here from Belby,” she said to step-mum as she came into the office, heading for the active files. She was in there doing preparation for the services she was taking in the next few days.
“Do you need me to…?” she asked.
“No, I know her from school,” she said. “I’ll be fine, I have all the info here.” She patted the file she had just located. “I’ll call you if I need you.” She hurried back out again.
“Did you know Mr Pritchard?” she asked as she came back, unsure if this was somewhat personal for Maria or not.
Maria had sat in one of the armchairs not far from the front desk and looked up from her phone in surprise when Etta returned. Her eyes were wide in shock, and she nodded. “A little, anyway,” she didn’t want to claim grief that wasn’t her own.
“Just from Belby,” she clarified further. She hadn’t even known his last name was Pritchard. They weren’t big on full names - or for some people, even real names - during group.
“Scott was nice,” she felt like she should say something good about the dead, though she didn’t know why. And of course, whether or not others would ever call a drug-addicted Werewolf ‘nice’ was a different matter entirely.
Etta was more than aware of what Belby was a support group for, and they had done work with the group before, but she wasn’t sure how loudly to mention it. Just in case of other clients coming in. There were more than enough people who still held a lot of prejudice against werewolves. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said tactfully. “Even if you weren’t close.”
“I’m glad you’ll have some good memories to look back on, it’s always important to hang on to those,” she said.
“Let’s see what we need, and what information I have for you,” she said, opening the file as she sat on the opposing sofa. She scanned it quickly; the colour-coded tags along the edge gave her some information ahead of time.
“We have the samples here for the service sheets for approval,” she said, pulling out the two different designs they had drawn up and sliding them across to Maria. “Is that your job or not?” she asked. If it wasn’t Maria’s job it would be easy enough for the approval and any corrections to come over the phone.
“Did you have any information for us?” she asked, she had noted that the death certificate was currently missing and they wouldn’t be able to perform the service or subsequent cremation until that was in their possession. Well, at least they couldn’t do the cremation, which generally made the service rather tricky. Hopefully Maria had also brought an idea of numbers, which would give them an idea of how many service sheets to print.
Maria nodded and told Etta, “I think those go to Kieran, but if not him, he’ll know who at the office. He sort of does a little bit of everything there,” she wasn’t sure if Etta had worked with Kieran before. “Not my job, I’m just a volunteer. Essentially their bitch,” she said with a little chuckle. But then she remember where they were sitting and she made herself look appropriately ashamed at her language. “Sorry,” she said with a little shoulder shrug.
Nodding again, Maria put forward the folder she had, labeled Bell & Russell among the other papers she had for her errands. “Yeah, they gave me this for you. I’m not sure if that’s everything you need. Never done anything like this before,” she felt suddenly... Well, Etta seemed so put together and capable, and she was only a year older than Maria.
“That makes sense,” she said. “Let me just mark them.” She grabbed a pen from the desk and quickly marked the two samples with their font and the name of the design base from memory. They were both relatively standard options and combinations. “Let him know he can get in touch when he’s made a decision, phone, email or in person.” There was already a business card with contact details pinned to the front of one of the pieces. It never hurt to make absolutely sure a distraught client knew how to contact them in an emergency. The language did make her professional mask slip a little though and she smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard plenty worse,” she reassured Maria. She’d said plenty worse too, but generally not in this environment.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, holding up a hand to reassure Maria. “This is where we’re experts so other people don’t have to be. Let me see what he’s sent.” She opened up the envelope deftly and leafed through the small amount of documents inside.
She hated it when someone died with few to no people available to mourn them, and it seemed like it was the case with Scott Pritchard. She immediately recognised both the death certificate and the official forms allowing them to process the body for burial or cremation. And a form of the Funeral Director’s own devising which collected information. Often that wasn’t given directly to the families, just filled in by the office from their notes, but the circumstances here were unusual. Referencing against the list of required information she made some rapid notes, transferring the information to their file.
She slid her wand from the concealed pocket along her thigh. “I’ll just make copies of these forms,” she said. The repetition meant it was a spell she was incredibly competent with. She neatly arranged the necessary forms into piles, one which she needed to keep (including the original green burial or cremation form), the other which would be sent back to Belby for safe-keeping or whatever disposal methods they eventually took (including the original of the death certificate). She double checked and slipped the right stacks in the right places, handing the envelope back to Maria, now with samples included.
“I think we have everything I need here, although, hmm there’s a note here. Oh, let me just get that. We were running low on directions to the funeral home when they first came in,” she said. She knew those were among the boxes of printing which had just been delivered.
Maria watched the whole process with a little bit of unconcealed awe on her face. It was very different from the chaos of the Belby office, which was her only experience with such things. She was efficient, and friendly without being too personal, and obviously very good at what she did (though Maria didn’t quite know what it was Etta did...).
“Thanks,” she said, at the end of it all. “Um, so I just bring these back?”
She had an appointment for Belby in half an hour, but it was just down the road at Gringotts, so she had time. “How are you?” She hadn’t seen Etta - to actually speak to her or anything - since school, and she hadn’t known the girl in their time there, but she’d known of her. She was dawdling, by asking, she knew, but part of the reason she’d started helping out at Belby was to get out more and be more social and ‘normal’ - right?
She smiled kindly at Maria’s confusion, unless they’d been through it before people rarely knew how this process worked. “Yes, I have the copies of the things we needed to see and the information we need plus the originals of the necessary paperwork. You, or rather the people at Belby, get to keep the original certificates that might be necessary for other parts of the post-death process. We needed to see them, but not keep them, we just take a copy for our own peace of mind.” Death, as Etta well knew, came with a lot of unexpected paperwork for the bereaved, and she was only usually dealing with the processing of the bodies. She had vague memories of her father sorting out her mother’s estate, which was entirely more work. “I’m not sure if they’ll want to keep them or pass them on to the Ministry, we can advise if necessary.” There was a process for unclaimed deaths and people who died intestate, but she wasn’t especially well versed in it yet. Her Dad and grandparents could step in if necessary.
The more personal question as she moved to grab a few copies of their ‘reaching the funeral’ information (detailing apparition and floo points as well as muggle transport options) sheets, made her give a more personal smile of her own. “I’m well, thank you,” she said. “Working here and at The Creative Collection. How are you? Have you been volunteering at Belby long?” The brightness in her demeanor and voice shifted slightly towards the energy she tended to show outside of the sphere of death care, although she kept an awareness of where she was.
She moved back over with a handful of the information sheets, which she had retrieved from the desk drawer. They hadn’t been replenished yet, but she had been the one to check over the delivery so she knew they would come out at some point as she was organising. “People are always welcome to use our direct floo connection to get to one of our services, the space for that it out of the city centre, obviously.” It might not be so obvious to others, but it made perfect sense to her.
Maria was still nodding and beginning to feel like a foolish bobble-head doll. Etta must think her a total idiot. She did know something about this though, as she’d helped with filing, “Belby keeps the originals, there’s a whole room of file cabinets,” the last bit she said... almost sadly. It had been a big reality check when she’d begun to realize how rarely Weres had families to do this sort of thing, how often it fell to anonymous office workers and volunteers to do all of this, because they didn’t have anyone else. She knew her father was... complicated, but she also knew how lucky she was to have him, especially considering her mother AND her brother had wanted nothing to do with her all her life.
Shaking her head Maria just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, “No, I haven’t. It sort of started as a punishment that involved threats of my trust being shut down if I didn’t... what were the words Dad used ‘get my shite together.’ But then I sort of made a friend there - kind of a first for me,” she mumbled that bit, “and started spending more time. It seems like they never have enough hands on deck, you know?” Maybe it was sort of the same working at a family business? Something maybe they had in common?
She took the extra pamphlets and slipped them into the folder for Kieran with a thank you.
Etta was more than used to people nodding along or being overwhelmed at meetings, providing written copies of information and being able to remind people of details was second nature in this industry. Grief often made processing difficult for people. When she heard there was a whole room of cabinets she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, her hand coming to her chest at the pain the thought provoked. “I’m sorry. I’m glad they had the people at Belby to help them out at least,” she said. She knew there was a special designation for funerals which came from Belby and other organisations like it in their records, but she hadn’t thought how deep that might go. She knew the family didn’t turn them away though. Ever.
Her head tilted slightly and she smiled. It seemed like Maria had maybe started to find a place that fitted her, even if it was because of a punishment. “I’m glad it’s working out for you, the people I’ve interacted with seem like good people,” she said. Sure some were grumpy people and some brighter people, but that was much like anywhere else in the world. She nodded to the all hands on deck comment though, “I work for two small businesses and craft on the side, I know about resources being spread thin,” she said. None of it was hugely lucrative either, thankfully offset by the minimal rent she paid in return for being the primary person on duty overnight most of the time.
Maria gave her a small smile when she... complimented Belby. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of funeral homes and businesses still won’t work with... Belby.” She almost said ‘us’ but that felt somehow too personal, even if people from school knew her condition.
“I’ve only really ever worked with Kieran, but the other office people seem nice,” she kept using that word, ugh. But, she was making pleasantries, that was progress, right? And then Etta mentioned her work and Maria cocked her head, “Two businesses?” Etta had two jobs? And crafting? Like... making stuff? Why would make stuff when you could just buy it? That seemed like a personal question, though, and so Maria didn’t say it out loud.
Etta had to fight to keep her face professional because she had some pretty strong opinions about people being refused service by the funeral industry. It definitely didn’t surprise her, unfortunately. “Unfortunately prejudice seems to still run deep,” she said diplomatically. There was also a prominent funeral business considered premium which not-so-subtly turned away muggleborn clients. “Even in death-care.”
“Glad you’re having a positive experience,” she said. She knew of Maria’s status given they were close enough in age, but just like one didn’t mention to clients the overwhelming smell of smoke or body odour in their homes, one didn’t mention things like werewolf status if they didn’t bring it up first. And Maria wasn’t actually the client directly. She managed to chuckle slightly and nod. “I’ve never worked here full time and we have quieter and busier times, so I also work part time at The Creative Collection on Victory Road. It fulfils different things for me.” It was kind of hard to explain why she did both, even to herself at times, but she had definitely become happier once she had started doing that too. Allowing herself to be a little more free in her interactions, her dress and so on was a good contrast for her mental health.
The nod Maria gave her was grave and, in a way, intimate. She knew all too well the prejudice her kind faced, even if her father’s money and control shielded her from the worst of it. She’d only learned of those things - violence, homelessness, and even more - when she’d ‘befriended’ Kieran. He’d been abandoned by his family entirely, had it not been for Hogwarts, she didn’t know what would have become of him, and that was a thought really didn’t like. She liked Keiran, in a weird way, and she felt somehow protective of him, in a way she had never really felt about anyone (and even if it was a little strange considering he was older than her and technically her ‘boss’ even if she was just a volunteer and of course the fact that he was still basically a stranger to her, but whatever).
“Oh,” Maria replied, it made sense, if this was just a part-time job. “That must be...” she searched for a word, “nice.” She ended lamely. She just didn’t know what was normal or nice or even awful about having a job. Any job. Gods, she was so useless.
She thought a moment though and then cocked her head again, “I can see the pros and cons of doing both - working with family and not working with family,” she finished with a small smile. She felt like that was a thoughtful statement and maybe even a little funny. Maybe she could get better at this whole ‘conversing’ thing.
Given that people were often awkward and out of sorts when dealing with death and funeral arrangements Etta barely noticed that Maria was struggling for what to say. Truly she had heard the oddest things said in meetings. “I rather enjoy it,” she confirmed.
The comment about working with family made her giggle slightly. “Oh, yes I love my family but working with them every day can be a little much, so the Collection is a nice break,” she said. As she finished she smoothed her skirt once more and stood.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting a client for a meeting shortly,” she said. She would rarely push a client out of the door in such a fashion, but having concluded their business and with Maria only being a messenger she didn’t feel bad about giving her a little push.
When Etta mentioned another appointment it was like Maria was snapped out of an awkward haze, “Oh!” of course people had things to do at their job besides sit around and chat, “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “Of course,” and then she laughed. “To be honest, sometimes I forget people have, like, jobs.” She rolled her eyes at herself and apologised again before gathering her things and heading for the door from the seating area in front of the desk. She stopped and turned to shake Etta’s hand, “Thank you for helping, Scott was a nice guy, I’d hate to think he wasn’t taken care of,” it was probably the most personal thing she’d admitted to a near-stranger, ever, about herself or her condition or her community. But it felt good to say out loud. Etta seemed like she understood, in a way, and that helped.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said with a small smile and then headed out, turning down the street toward Gringotts for her next errand, folders firmly in hand.