It’s the noise they make that I hate the most. It’s deep and it’s unrehearsed. It’s an anguished, awful desperate noise and I fucking hate it. They know they’re dead, they knew their mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, child was dead long before I arrived. Until this moment they have held a desperate hope something can be done. They see our equipment, our sense of urgency; I suppose they are relieved that someone, at last, is doing something. Just like them, I know they're dead and this pantomime is for them really. Well actually it’s for me too; I want them to believe me when I tell them that ‘we did everything we could’ and that ‘we just wish there was more we could have done’. A doctor gave me a great piece of advice when I started this job; he said ‘when you tell them, do it bluntly, so there’s no misunderstanding what you are telling them “I am sorry your wife is dead” not “she has passed away” or “sorry, she’s gone”. I ensure there’s a lot of equipment around the dead body, lots of opened drug boxes and lots of used oxygen tubing, the defibrillator still on; it helps to convince them we have done everything possible. It’s usually at that point that the noise comes. It hits me physically; I can clearly recall every one I’ve heard, pinned to my memory like moths in a display case. They often fall against me, desperate for comfort, desperate for a tender embrace and the opportunity to hide from the hideous scene around them. I hug them and try to lead them away. They haven’t begun crying yet, it’s not time. I know there’s another awful thing coming, I can’t warn them, can’t stop it happening; there’s always someone else who must be told immediately. When they hear the familiar voice on the phone they are often unable to speak or will only manage a few words before they break down in tears, sobs wracking their chests. They proffer me the phone, a pleading look in their tear brimmed eyes; I take it and explain to the other person what’s happened and there’s that awful noise again, not softened by the telephone. Another moth pinned in place.