Police Memories

by Bill Williams

  There was a moments silence then came the reply

  “Does the man live alone?”

  “As far I know he lives alone and I never heard of him having relatives,” Ned replied.

  “What about a neighbour?” said the police controller.

  “There are none,” said Ned “This, is an isolated cottage.”

  “I suggest you check the yellow pages for a builder” was the next reply.”

  Ned now believed he was dealing with a very unhelpful public service and one of its servants. Where would he get yellow pages book in these circumstances?

  “You see,” said Ned, “I recall some years ago I found someone in similar circumstances and on that occasion the Police came and made some enquiries to find relatives, then called someone to lock the doors and finally informed Social Services to sort things out.”

  “This is not a police matter, consider contacting Social Services yourself,” was the next response Ned, heard.

  Ned said, “My father was a police officer I recall as a boy, he was always on call, even when we had planned something if he was late off duty or had his day off cancelled and we moaned he always quoted the police officers oath when he was sworn in.”

  “A Constable is a citizen locally appointed but having authority under the Crown for the protection of life and property.”

  “I am not a police officer,” she replied, “Things have changed since those days, in future do not use this number for such calls, use the ordinary number.”

  “I don’t know it,” said Ned and this seemed urgent to me.”

  There was no reply for he had been cut off; he was left holding the baby so to speak.

  After half an hour of anxiously waiting he heard a vehicle stop and then voices, he went to investigate, it was the Ambulance crew, “thank heavens,” thought Ned, help at last.

  He related what had happened to the paramedics then commented.

  “You know, when I called them, I just realised the police didn’t even ask my name, address nor from where I was calling.”

  The ambulance crew looked at each other then smiled and one officer looked up and said, “that’s the way it is these days mate no one wants to know. I recall years ago the cops often helped us, provided escorts for us through busy towns when we had serious cases. Not anymore, in fact only last week we were told the police headquarters had down graded Ambulance calls when the crew were being attacked or assaulted to grade two.”

  “I was speaking with several Coppers,” said the other ambulance man, “They didn’t agree with it but nothing they can do.”

  Claude was loaded up and left for hospital leaving Ned to put away the coats, close the door then finish his round.

  Arriving back at the sorting office, he put away his cycle and once inside the building, now he thought, “Time to explain to the boss.”

  Percy Simmons the team leader was waiting. Years ago so he had the reputation of being a good friendly postman but once promoted he had changed. Always smart and tidy in his appearance, trousers neatly pressed, boots shining his Royal Air Force type handle bar moustache immaculately trimmed, certainly never any trace of the remains of his frothy coffee ever left upon it. He had transformed and was a little over bearing and unapproachable.

  “Late again eh Ned, what’s your excuse this time?” Said Percy.

  Ned looked up and thought, “still as obnoxious as ever eh Percy?”

  “I heard old Claude from Bleak Cottage calling, when I checked, he was lying outside, it appears he must have fallen over, it looked as if he had broken his leg from the shape of it.”

  “A doctor now eh, you do get the Royal Mail involved in some stuff, you didn’t do anything likely to cause the firm to be sued did you?” Said Percy, anxiously.

  “I just called an Ambulance and as he lives alone I had to wait for it to arrive and it took half an hour,” replied the frustrated Samaritan.

  “What about the police didn’t you think of calling them?” Asked Percy.

  “I did,” said Ned; “they didn’t want to know, and they more or less said it wasn’t a police matter.”

  “Oh I see, but it was a Royal Mail matter?” Percy, said with a sarcastic grin, “Well it sounds if you had a good reason this time. I will get the Manager to speak with Mr Rhys Boast, who has complained his mail was late; again, I presume your explanation will satisfy him.”

  “Some people,” muttered Ned, “They will never be happy only think of themselves.”

  “What did you mumble?” asked Percy.

  “Nothing,” replied Ned.

  “We want no flippancy here,” replied the keep to the rules team leader Percy.”

  He was nicknamed locally as Percy the postman, recalling those far off days when he was a real postman and not a tyrant,” thought Ned.

  “There is one thing I ought to do,” said Ned, “Call Social Services, old Claude lives alone I don’t think he has any relatives, the house is insecure.”

  “Forget that,” said Percy, “The hospital will fix all that up, no need to use our phone, remember lad, BT is not part of us any more, we have to pay for our calls same as the rest, now you get off home, we don’t want you claiming overtime now do we?”

  Ned turned and was walking away, after some paces; he stopped for a moment, thought, “What have things come to?” he then left the now silent sorting office.

  Arriving in the cold but fresh air he was just walking through the gate when he heard his name called. He stopped, turned and saw Mr Clive Woodhead the General Manager speaking with Percy.

  “Oh,” said Percy, “The extra two hours, you wont think of claiming them as overtime will you?”

  Ned made no response, turned and continued walking as he did so he muttered to himself, “Bastards.”

  “They remind me of a story,” he thought, as he walked home, of the car park attendant.

  “A perfectly nice friendly guy, goes to church, collects for charity, and opens doors for ladies. When he arrives at his part time job as a car park attendant and puts on his uniform, consisting of a worn out Supermarket coat, an old band cap, and worse, finally arming himself with a bunch of keys hanging on his belt. This seemingly innocent equipment gave him the power to open gates and the cash machine, and most important, direct people where to go. When the unsuspecting public arrived to park their cars he changed into a menace at best, a tyrant at worst.”

  “Heaven knows what they are like at home when there is a full moon,” said Ned under his breath.

  He laughed and then thought of his wife waiting with lunch, which soothed his mood.

  As anticipated, there was a drink on the table as he entered the house and simultaneously he could smell the aroma of cooking food. His ever loving and faithful wife Mavis was preparing a wondrous evening meal.

  He took off his coat and sat down in his favourite armchair, next to the open fire. Yes, he thought “My chair even the Grandchildren get up and vacate it when I arrive.

  Resting his weary feet having been up since just after 4 am, he was ready to sit back and consume the warm soothing tea with the usual home made scone and jam, he hoped!

  “Had a good day?” asked Mavis.

  “Better than some,” he replied.

  “Oh dear has that Percy been playing up again?” replied Mavis. “Oh by the way I have a tale to tell about him.”

  “Go for it,” said Ned “Enlighten me, what wondrous adventure has he been up to this time.”

  “Well,” said Mavis “I was in the town this morning, I called in at Johnson’s coffee shop, you know the so called, up market, place where all the yuppies go. I negotiated the various men who sit in the front of the shop not actually doing or saying anything wrong but one can see from the look they give, they have eyes for Mrs Johnson. They don’t have a chance of course but they go in every day in the week when it is quiet, spend hours sitting there and of course spending money.”

  Ned called, “I know the place I have delivered there and seen the
fellows, late middle to old age with more money than sense. Often drive sports cars with open tops, wear dark glasses even when there is no sun and sport a cravat and a 1930s cap, they live in the fantasy world of Jeeves.”

  “They are the ones,” replied Mavis.

  She continued, “Well as I was saying, I passed them and was sitting in the rear room. A very nice lady and gentleman arrived and sat at the next table, I couldn’t help over hearing them in conversation with a couple who joined them.”

  The newly arrived gentleman said, “How is that son in law of yours, old Percy, the postman?”

  “Very well indeed and still as obnoxious as the day he first arrived at our house,” replied the lady who was obviously Percy’s, mother in law.

  “We came over especially to help him out and Janet our daughter of course. They have been on holiday for a few days and didn’t want to pay kennel fees for Percy’s dog. When they arrived back all was well considering, then, just now before we left he handed me this.”

  She retrieved a piece of paper from her handbag and showed it to the visitors.

  “Well I never,” said the gentleman, “He has given you a bill for accommodation and food for two days.”

  “Can you believe that?” Said Mavis, “Gave his mother and father in law a bill for staying there, in spite of the fact they were doing him a favour.”

  “Sounds about right,” said Ned.

  “Oh,” retorted Mavis “I was so excited to tell you the story I forgot, tell me, what happened today, you seemed a bit down when you came in?”

  “Well,” answered Ned “I found old Claude Friendly the retired copper, lying flat out, it seemed to me he had been there for hours.”

  “Good gracious,” she said, “Whatever did you do?”

  “I called an Ambulance,” replied Ned, hesitating as he bent down to remove his boots, then he continued.

  “Ah, that’s better aching feet, oh yes, I then called the police to get something done about his house being left insecure but it seems things have changed according to the police operator. They weren’t interested so I had to leave the house as it was.”

  “Good heavens,” said Mavis “I hope Claude will be Ok and his house.”

  “Um,” replied Ned “I mentioned it at the sorting office, as you realise now, I was late getting in, but Percy wouldn’t allow me to use the phone said the hospital would do it.”

  Mavis stopped, thought and said, “You do it Ned, a friend in need so to speak.”

  Ned thought, then stood and walked over to the bureau and after a search, finally found the telephone directory. He dialled the County Council number and after listening to the mass of options, followed with a message that all staff are busy, try the Web site, and in any event his call would be recorded for training purposes. Eventually a voice answered.

  “Pauline Campbell duty Social worker, how can I help?”

  “That sounds promising,” thought Ned and he introduced himself followed by the tale of his experiences that morning, there was a pause, then.

  “You see,Ned it is 4 pm I am about to go off duty, and in any event we don’t normally act in cases such as this unless we are approached by one of the official bodies, police, medical profession or care home.”

  “We get so many calls from the public it would be impossible to answer them all, so by having a policy of acting in response to official calls, this cuts down our work load and investigating inappropriate cases.”

  “I will note your call but you have no worries I am sure the hospital or other body will contact us, if it proves necessary, thank you for your call.”

  The line went dead, he replaced the receiver, looked at Mavis and said, “Mavis whatever you do, don’t get old and don’t spend all our savings, when you are old and penniless no one wants to know.”

  “I take it Social Services weren’t interested,” she said.

  He laughed and shook his head, “Just don’t get old.”

  Chapter 2

  “Good morning Mr Friendly wakey, wakey, come along you are in Newport General Hospital, do you remember what happened to you?”

  Claude was sleepy but heard the question and replied, “Sorry I can’t remember a thing.”

  “I am Sister Jodie Hallam, Men’s Orthopaedic Ward, you were found by the postman yesterday morning lying on the yard at home. You have had an operation to repair your left leg which was broken, so you will be here for a while. Would you like a drink of tea, coffee or similar?"

  He opened his eyes and saw standing before him a smiling, very pretty lady in her mid thirties wearing a navy blue uniform dress and white apron. She had soft blue eyes and long blonde hair.

  “I would appreciate a drink of tea please,” he replied.

  She smiled and told him she would get someone to bring him one and the Almoner would come to visit him on Monday to take his details.

  He asked, “What day is it?”

  She told him it was Saturday and the time was 9 am and finally, as she left told him he had missed Breakfast. As a consolation prize she would arrange for one of the ward assistants to bring him a drink.

  She left and he looked around him, he saw the man in the next bed was asleep and on the table over his bed was a tray containing cereal, toast and a fried egg, there was a cup of tea or coffee, none of it had been eaten or even touched as his stomach gave a grumble for the want of food.

  It was an hour later when a lady who looked nothing like the first, arrived. She was small, stocky, and not quite obese but gave the impression she was fond of food. She wore round thick spectacles, had long unkempt hair. Finally adding to her unfortunate appearance she had at least two if not three of her top front teeth missing, easily visible as she yawned on picking up the various items.

  She picked up the tray from the adjacent bed made no comment that nothing had been eaten and was about to leave when Claude spoke to her.

  “Sister promised to send me a drink,” he said.

  “I know,” she blurted out in a strong North Wales accent. “I am aware of it but everyone is too busy we are short of staff see,” and she was gone.

  “Thank you Ceinwen,” he muttered when she had gone, assuming that was her name having seen such on her name badge together with the title, kitchen assistant.

  Thirsty, he saw a jug of water and a glass on the chest next to his bed but he was unable to reach it or the glass by its side. He attempted to move but was unable to do so. When he regained his senses he could see his left leg was raised and supported by a cradle. He gave up and as the room was so warm and stuffy, he eventually dozed off.

  It seemed only moments when he awoke but looking at the clock on the wall he saw it was 1 pm and lunchtime. It was he thought, the lady putting his lunch tray onto the table over his bed that had woken him.

  It was the correct assumption but the incorrect person. A man brought in the tray on this occasion; presumably Ceinwen had left duty, Claude took a deep breath as he viewed the new arrival.

  A tall man, at least six feet in height, aged in his later forties, he was unshaven, blessed with jet black hair which had been heavily greased which caused it to lay flat on his head.

  This reminded Claude of the old days when Bryl Cream had been used by almost all the well to do men, to give this effect.

  Claude wondered if, as he had never seen such cream for many years if the man had used lard as he himself had done when he couldn’t afford the genuine item.

  As the new waiter drew closer Claude shuddered as he viewed the once white overall now varied in colour from off white to a tea stained brown. It was almost camouflaged in design from the amount and variety of food remnants and stains upon it.

  He was also sporting a name badge “Alf, Kitchen Assistant” but, unlike Ceinwen he was so slim that he clearly either ate nothing which was unfortunate from his attire or perhaps he was one who could consume as much as he wanted but never put on an ounce of weight.

  The tray he brought appeared to contain all that w
as required for a lunch, including, at long last, a drink. Not tea as he had ordered, but a glass of water, which he thought was now more appreciated than tea.

  As good old Alf walked away without speaking, Claude looked down, “Mother always said one can judge the cut of a man by how polished his shoes were.”

  Alf would have failed her test. His trousers were half mast, as stained as his overall, his shoes black or brown, it was hard to distinguish which for they were covered in grease and Claude was sure there was some unmentionable fouling on the bottom of the soles as he squelched away.

  Now alone, Claude was unable to sit up so managed with difficulty to reach some food with a spoon, the meat he couldn’t eat for he couldn’t cut it up, so he made do with the potatoes and vegetables followed by the Jelly and Ice cream.

  Having consumed what he could, he lay back then said a prayer that Alf had only carried the food and had no part in its preparation. The last thing Claude needed was a dose of the “Delhi Belly.”

  He envisaged himself being performing the “Quick step” to and fro from the toilet with Ceinwen his travelling companion, it wasn’t he thought worth thinking about. The imagination of it made him unsure whether to laugh or cry.

  Looking about him, he saw three other patients in the ward they were sitting up and were devouring their meals with no problem.

  The man in the adjacent bed who had not consumed anything was either more or less fortunate, only the hours would tell when those who had consumed Alf’s food had digested it. The patient in the adjacent bed simply lay there appearing to be semi conscious.

  It was 2 pm when Alf returned and cleared away the meal trays. Claude noted his neighbour had still eaten or drunk nothing.

  At 3 pm he was again awoken by voices, and on opening his eyes he saw a man and woman arrive and sit beside his neighbour. The lady produced some mashed food and over the next hour and using all her patience, fed the old man and gave him drinks.

  Claude eventually spoke and said, “Excuse me, your friend, he doesn’t get much attention.”

  The Man said, “I know, they are too busy, we try to come twice a day to feed Dad ourselves, it works quite well.”