The coffin slid into the antechamber. The attendant was waiting. An easy job. No lifting or effort . The furnace was ready, but he had one task to do first. He prised the lid loose with a crowbar heedless of gouges in the polished oak. Perks of the job. Who would know. Gold fillings, rings. He `rescued’ them all.

He lifted the lid.

The coffin was empty. Apart from one object. A heart. Then a burly man with a pock-marked face entered the room, his face murderous when he realised the sacrilege.

Leila’s family always believed the ashes were hers.



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