Calling All Services (Calling All... Book 1)

by Tara Ford

“Okay, Dad.” Jumping up, she went to the kitchen. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

  “I’ve got one here, can you heat it up in the microwave for me?”

  Emma returned, picked up the mug and went to warm it up.

  She was so much like her mum, she would do anything for anyone, thought Grant as he watched her leave.

  Managing to stay awake, Grant finished his tea before retiring to the bedroom. The alarm clock said ten minutes to ten; a good few hours of sleep were needed before he started the inevitable list of phone calls.

  “Do you want me to wake you up later, Dad?” whispered Emma, peering round the bedroom door.

  “Yeah, wake me up about two o’clock please, Em.”

  “Okay Dad, night-night... I mean morning-morning.” She giggled sweetly.

  Opening his eyes, Grant looked at the blurred red figures on the alarm clock perched on the edge of the bedside cabinet; 12.36. He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours and now his head thumped violently like a rabbit’s hind feet signalling a threat. Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled on his dressing gown and hobbled downstairs to the kitchen.

  Joe stood in the corner of the room with a bowl of cereal propped up under his chin, shovelling heaped spoonfuls into his mouth as quick as he could.

  “Why don’t you sit at the table to eat that?” said Grant grumpily.

  “Sorry Dad,” Joe managed to say between the gulps and slurps. “How’s Mum?”

  “She’s okay mate; we’re going back to see her later if you want to come.”

  “Can I skip it today Dad? I’m going bowling tonight after the match, with my mates.”

  “No problem, I expect your mum will be in for the weekend though.” Taking the paracetamol from the cupboard, Grant tossed two into his mouth and swallowed them down with a glass of water.

  “What’s wrong with her?” asked Joe.

  “They’re not sure yet.”

  Emma hopped into the kitchen and looked Joe up and down. “Are you coming to the hospital with us?” she asked, sneering at him.

  “No, I’m going out later. You don’t mind, do you Dad?”

  Grant shook his head and wished he hadn’t as his brain continued to rattle loosely inside.

  “Ah, please come Joe,” pleaded Emma.

  She was close to Joe, probably because they were the two youngest and he also made her laugh a lot.

  “Grandma phoned earlier,” said Joe, finishing the last mouthful of his breakfast/lunch and ignoring Emma’s comment completely.

  “Oh God, did she?” Grant cringed at the thought of calling his mother-in-law.

  “I told her Mum’s in hospital. She said you have to phone her as soon as you get up.” Joe moved towards the kitchen archway.

  “Okay,” replied Grant as he mentally prepared for the aftermath of not calling her earlier this morning.

  “I sent a text to Jack and Aaron last night. Aaron is coming home early I think. He said he’d call you today.”

  “Did Jack say what time he’ll be back tonight?”

  “He hasn’t replied yet.” Joe edged his way out of the kitchen. “I’ve gotta go now Dad, we’re playing at Tallbridge this afternoon.”

  Joe, like his father, loved football. He loved watching it, playing it and talking about it. He also enjoyed playing rugby, cricket and basketball. He was very athletic and had secured a place at college in September to do a sports performance and excellence course for two years. His current success had been a long time coming and somewhat doubtful at times.

  As a younger child Joe had always been the boisterous, loud and outgoing one. Grant and Alex worried about him more than any of their other children. He was a difficult child to understand. That was how the school had described him. He got bored very quickly, which usually led him into all kinds of trouble. His attention span was zero but he was way ahead of his peers academically. Joe didn’t cope well with changes in his life and Alex worried that he also had OCD tendencies. She often fretted over whether he had a form of autism or not, as he also possessed an incredible photographic memory.

  The doctors, the school nurse and his teachers had shunned the idea and attributed Joe’s poor behaviour to a parental handling issue. Alex did not challenge their opinions and spent a lot of time pondering where she had gone wrong with him, when she seemed to have got it right with the others.

  She now believed that Joe was more than likely on the autistic spectrum, even if only slightly, although it had not been, and probably never would be, officially diagnosed.

  Joe was impulsive and outspoken, both qualities that could get him into difficult situations, but all in all, everyone accepted that Joe was just Joe and everyone loved his sense of humour and caring nature.

  “We may not be here when you get back, Joe. Can you take your key please?”

  “Yep, see you later then.”

  Leaving the room, Joe bounced, two at a time, up the stairs to his bedroom like a wallaby in an uphill marsupial race. While Emma tiptoed after him like a fairy on hot rocks and retreated to her pink and purple (no boys allowed) girlie sanctuary of a bedroom.

  Returning to the living room with another mug of tea, Grant picked the phone up from its base and sat down on the sofa. Staring at the handset, he imagined the conversation he would have with Alex’s mum. He did not want to make the call, but he knew he would have to sooner or later.

  A shrill sound rang in his delicate head and Grant realised he had nodded off again. The phone rang and rang persistently. Where was the answer machine when he needed it, he thought, angrily. Damned kids had probably turned it off again. Reluctantly, he picked up the handset and pressed the answer button. “Hello.”

  “Grant, did I wake you? What’s going on with Alex? Joe told me she’s in the hospital. What’s wrong with her?”

  “Dot, I was just about to call you. No, you didn’t wake me,” he lied. “Calm down, she’s okay. They’re not quite sure what’s wrong with her yet—”

  “What do you mean, they’re not sure? They should know what’s wrong with her. They’re supposed to be the bloody doctors!”

  “Look, I’m going back there in a while. I’ve just woke up, Dot. I’ll know more about it later, and then I can call you.”

  “How can you have just woken up? You said you were just about to call me.”

  Dot didn’t miss a thing, he was sure she had an internal tape recorder installed in her brain that scrutinised everything that everyone said or did.

  “Where is she? At the General? What ward is she on?”

  “She could be moved today. She was in the Assessment Unit last night. I’ll let you know later Dot. I’ll text you when I’m at the hospital, okay?”

  Grant’s head was still pounding and he wondered whether she could hear it beating down the phone.

  “Please make sure you do Grant, I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t know what’s going on. Dad’s panicking too.”

  “Look Dot, as soon as I know something I’ll call or text you.” Grant began to sweat from the pain in his head.

  “Okay, well you must be tired if you’ve been awake all night. Get some sleep, it’ll do you good.”

  Grant raised his eyebrows in sheer amazement at her stubbornness and wilful lack of tact.

  “Will you send her our love?”

  “Of course I will. Talk to you later.”

  “Thank you Grant, I’ll wait to hear from you. Bye for now.”

  The phone went silent, much to Grant’s relief. Inhaling a deep breath, he thanked God it was over, although it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Perhaps Dot was right and he was just overtired. His dull head didn’t make things any better.

  Ring, ring, the phone went again.

  “Hello.”

  “Grant, sorry I forgot – it’s today that Jack comes home isn’t it?”

  “Yes, he should be back tonight, Dot.”

  “Oh good, we’ll have to see him before he goes back. And how did Aaron get on with the train
?”

  “Well, he managed to get there in one piece!” Grant smiled.

  “Good. Okay, talk later love. Please don’t forget to call me as soon as you know anything. Bye for now.”

  Beep.

  Then Grant’s mobile phone played a melody from the pocket of his jacket (which he’d slung on the dining room table earlier), indicating that a text message had been received. Dragging himself up, he groped around in the pocket for his phone. There was a message from Aaron.

  I’m coming home today. Getting train at 1pm. Hope Mum is all right xx

  It was now ten past one. Aaron would be on the train already, thought Grant as he replied to the text.

  Your mum’s okay. See you tonight when I get back from the hospital, mate.

  Grant had a feeling Aaron would come home early once he heard the news, although it was only a day earlier. He wasn’t actually due back until tomorrow night.

  Alex hadn’t wanted Aaron to go to Wales on his own by train. She’d known, deep down, that Grant was right though. She had to let go of the reins she still held for Aaron, as she had done with Jack.

  “But Aaron is different to Jack,” she had tried to reason.

  Grant admitted that Aaron was very shy and introverted, unlike his siblings, but Alex had to let him start making his way in life on his own. If he wanted to go on an adventure and travel to his Aunt Josie’s house in Wales, on a train, on his own, then he should go. He’d saved the train fare from his hard-earned wages working at the weekends in the storeroom of a local supermarket. “He’ll be 18 this year Alex, he’ll be fine. Let him go,” Grant had insisted.

  The phone began its familiar ring again. Almost sensing who was at the other end of it, Grant hesitated, and then pressed the handset to his reluctant ear. “Hello?”

  “Grant, I’ve just been thinking. Is there anything I can do to help you out? Do you need any bread or milk or anything else?”

  “Dot... umm, no, everything is fine thanks. I don’t need anything.”

  “Dad said to tell Alex that she had better get herself better for next Tuesday.” Dot attempted a laugh.

  “Next Tuesday?” Grant couldn’t think properly. He hadn’t had much time to think at all and the drumming beat-box disco inside his head was getting louder and faster.

  “The blasted boat Grant, remember?”

  “Oh yes, of course, I’ll remind her. I’m sure she’ll be okay by then.”

  Alex would probably rather stay in the hospital and have both her legs amputated, thought Grant as he imagined his wife poised on hands and knees, holding onto the hem of the doctor’s white coat and begging him to let her stay in the hospital until after Tuesday. Smiling inwardly at his imagined scenario, he knew that she loved her mum and dad dearly. It was just that she felt her dad was really pushing the boat out this time – literally!

  “Do you want me to come and sit with the kids while you’re at the hospital?”

  “No Dot, they’re quite capable of looking after themselves now and Emma’s coming with me.” For heaven’s sake, is she in a time warp? Has she missed the last five years of their growing up or is she completely senile?

  “Give me a call if you need anything Grant, you know I’m always at the end of the phone line.”

  “Oh, I know Dot, thanks.”

  “Bye for now.”

  That was the problem with Alex’s mum. She was always at the end of the phone line – always! She believed that the telephone was the greatest invention ever. ‘It brings people together, no matter the distance between them,’ she liked to dictate regularly.

  Alexander Graham Bell had a lot to answer for where the ‘Dots’ of this world were concerned.

  Grabbing the phone, Grant squeezed it tightly to stop any more calls getting through as he meandered through to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on again. Wanting to make an important call, he needed to intercept the phone line before Dot could claim a hold on the whole telecommunications network.

  Calling directory enquiries, he asked for the number of the General Hospital.

  By the time Grant had finished stirring his tea, he’d conquered the trail of extensions and reached the correct department.

  “Alex is doing well,” said a female voice, vaguely. “We’re waiting for some test results, and then she’ll be seen by the doctor again.”

  “Could you tell her I called and I’ll be there soon?”

  “Yes Mr Frey, I’ll give her the message.”

  The mail had arrived and still lay discreetly on the front doormat. Mr Postman Pat (a name given by the children, when they were small, to any person who walked up the drive carrying mail) was getting later and later, thought Grant as he shuffled through the envelopes.

  Bill, bill and a letter from the school. Tucking them under his arm, he carried them outside to the patio along with the phone and yet more tea.

  It was beautifully bright outside, although the light strained his eyes and irritated his aching head. Increasingly warm for the beginning of April, it had to be 20 degrees by now, he thought. The glowing heat of the sun made Grant’s eyelids feel heavy. He hadn’t had enough sleep. His mind wandered to an image of dear Alex lying in the miserable, dingy room, while he rested in a high-backed green resin patio chair, taking in the spring newness of their garden.

  Suddenly, the peaceful existence in Grant’s tranquil, landscaped domain was abruptly shattered.

  Ring, ring...

  Stalling for a moment, he listed the possibilities; firstly as to the nature of the call and secondly, but more importantly, the caller, as the phone trembled on the plastic table. Concluding that it could be someone important he answered. “Hello?”

  “Honey, I’m going into town to get my hair done. Dad’s dropping me off. Should I pick up some magazines for Alex?”

  Resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, propped up by his elbows on the table, Grant replied. “Dot, I think we should wait and see how long she will be there for.”

  “All right, I just thought that, knowing Alex, she would be bored silly.”

  “When I left her this morning, she just wanted to sleep.”

  “Well, can I get you anything at all while I’m down there?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m going back to the hospital again soon. I phoned them and they’re waiting for more test results, but she’s okay.”

  “Yes I know, I phoned them too. They said the same thing to me. I’ll let you get on with things then Grant. Talk to you later. Bye-bye for now.”

  “Bye.”

  The equation was Dot + phone = blood-boiling frustration at the best of times.

  Leaving his disturbed sunny haven, Grant decided to take a shower. At least he couldn’t answer the phone while he was standing under relaxing streams of warm water, cascading from the shower head.

  Feeling refreshed but still dull-headed, Grant stepped out of the shower and reached for a soft towel. He thought he’d heard the phone ring but he couldn’t be sure as it had been left in the garden.

  He wished that the friendly-faced little garden gnomes (that were Alex’s pride and joy) would carry the handset away to a secret hiding place at the far end of the lawn and bury it deeply, where it could not be seen or heard ever again.

  “Dad, Grandma’s on the phone, she wants to know if she should get some grapes for us to take to the hospital?” came Emma’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Tell her we’ll get some, don’t worry.” For goodness’ sake, that woman is insatiable, he concluded.

  Collecting the forgotten letters from the patio table, Grant made another cup of tea and a sandwich which would temporarily occupy a small area of the emptiness in his stomach. He then sat down in the dining room, one of his favourite places in the house.

  Both he and Alex firmly believed that the family should eat dinner together, at the table. It was a time to have family conferences, share news and have a chat about anything and everything. Many good memories had formed within the
se four walls.

  The elegant, rectangular glass table stood in the centre of the room, guarded by six high-backed grey leather chairs. A matching sideboard took second place along the back wall. Two statuesque black glass vases reigned in the corners of the room, like Grenadier Guards, with silver and black floral arrangements tumbling and twisting from them in a resplendent display of curliness.

  Grant picked up the letters and browsed through them. First letter, credit card bill – he tossed it back down on the table. Second letter, electric bill – it joined the first bill, discarded until another day. The third letter was from Joe and Emma’s school. What did he have to pay out for now, another trip? Or had Joe acted impulsively again and been punished with a detention for calling the teacher a stupid fat git? Opening the letter, he noted immediately that it was about Emma.

  Dear Parent/Carer,

  I am writing to you regarding your daughter Emma Frey. Unfortunately, it has been brought to my attention that...CCTV...

  £70.00... Police... Prosecution...

  Grant scanned the contents of the letter briefly. Then he needed to read it again, more carefully.

  A heated rage, mixed with tones of disbelief and sadness, began to bubble inside his stomach, working its way upwards to join the battle in his pulsating head.

  Surely this couldn’t be about his sweet little Emma?

  Aaron

  “Well you’ve managed to do it once now, so come back soon and stay for longer next time,” said Josie as she pretended to pick her nose and wipe it on Aaron’s jacket. Impulsively jumping back and away from his aunt, Aaron checked himself for traces of slime and chuckled. “Give your mum our love. Tell her we’re all thinking of her and if she doesn’t hurry up and get better, I’ll be over there to sort her and those doctors out!”

  Nodding his head like the Churchill dog on a rear parcel shelf, Aaron beamed as they stood on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. He loved his Aunt Josie; she was an unquestionably jolly and bubbly person and much more relaxed about life than his mum or dad were. There was never a dull moment in Josie’s company. Playful, funny and completely crazy, she was ‘only’ 41 years old.