“I’m sure it’s okay,” says Beth, one of the staff at the crematorium – or crem, as everyone calls it. “But let me just double-check.”
Beth is ringing up her supervisor to check whether or not I can take photos. While she’s on hold her colleague, Jane, offers me a chance to look inside one of the two cremators, both of which are running.
I’m not sure what I expect to see when I look through the cylindrical viewing glass. Perhaps a burning panel of wood or a thick wall of flames. Who knows? But judging by the weakening of my legs, I’m not expecting to see what is clearly the top of a human skull engulfed in fire.
I steady myself. “How…ah…how hot is it in there?” I mumble.
