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

by Tara Ford

  “Dad?” Joe towered in the dining room doorway. Grant looked up, PC Oakes looked up, PC Gallimore looked across and Emma stopped mopping and peered around the arch. “What are you doing?”

  I’m having my foot lovingly bathed by a sexy lady dressed up as a police constable, who is on her hands and knees at my feet. It’s just a fetish midnight treat!

  “Don’t ask mate!” Grant shook his head and raised his eyebrows at Joe.

  “I think you will have to get that looked at, Mr Frey,” said PC Oakes as she stood up and went to the kitchen to wash her hands, tiptoeing along the tiled floor.

  Returning to the dining room, PC Oakes took the chair next to Grant. “It looks like three of your toes are burnt quite badly,” she advised him, as the delicate skin on his little toe continued to bubble and blister in the mixing bowl. PC Gallimore left his marriage post, at the archway and joined the party at the table.

  “Can I sit down, Dad?” asked Joe, pulling another chair out. He was slightly less bemused than Emma as he too had encountered these police officers earlier and guessed that their presence was connected to the bike theft.

  “Yeah, of course mate,” Grant replied as he noticed that the oppressive darkness was starting to lift outside in the garden. Dawn would be upon them within an hour or so. What a crazy situation this was, he thought for a second. Alex would not like it if she could have seen what was going on in her home tonight.

  “Mr Frey, we would like a quick chat and then we’ll be on our way. Is this your son?” PC Oakes looked towards Joe and smiled. “I believe he was with you tonight, in the car?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “You stated earlier that you were looking for someone?”

  Grant shifted in his seat awkwardly as his foot remained below the water level in Alex’s favourite cupcake mixing bowl. “Erm, yes.”

  “Mr Frey, as I said before, we have reason to believe that you have been taking the law into your own hands. As you are probably aware, conducting your own vigilante patrol is quite unacceptable behaviour, and more importantly, illegal.”

  Wandering through from the kitchen with a soaking wet tea towel in her hand, Emma gawked disbelievingly at her dad. “What’s a vigilant patrol, Dad?”

  Shaking his head in despair, Grant glared at her with one of his ‘Shut up – now!’ looks.

  “It has been noted that you called the station to report a stolen bike, is that correct?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I was frustrated. I got a bit angry on the phone. I felt like nothing would be done about it. Joe’s had two bikes stolen in the past. He works very hard at his paper round to scrimp and scrape every penny he can together to buy a new one, and now we’ve had the third one stolen tonight.”

  “Mr Frey, you cannot take the law into your own hands,” PC Gallimore said quietly.

  “I don’t know why I went out looking for them… It was probably because I’d nearly caught them in the garden. I was so angry!” Grant pleaded.

  “Did you get a good look at them, then?” asked PC Oakes as she jotted notes into her pad.

  “One of them, yes.” Grant replied nervously, pondering as to whether he would get away with it. What was Alex going to say? He looked at Joe, then to Emma. Was this all really happening?

  “Perhaps you could give us a description.” PC Oakes sat poised with her notepad.

  “They both had dark clothing on and they wore hoodies. The one I saw at the end of the garden had stubble on his face, and he had dark hair,” Grant guessed, judging by the colour of his unshaven jaw.

  “Height? Build? Could you estimate their sizes?” asked PC Oakes.

  “Both around my height and build, I would say,” he replied, hoping he was steering the officers away from the ‘vigilante’ accusation.

  “Mr Frey, I’m going to give you an informal caution about your behaviour tonight. I do not advise you to patrol the streets in this manner again.” PC Gallimore sounded serious. He wasn’t speaking quietly anymore. “You did the correct thing by calling the station, reporting the crime and receiving a crime number. The matter should have then been left for the police to deal with. I’m sorry if you feel that we haven’t been very helpful in the past, but you must appreciate that we have numerous bike thefts every single night!”

  PC Gallimore was actually quite scary. They always say you should watch out for the quiet ones, thought Grant.

  “How old are you, lad?” the officer asked Joe.

  “Sixteen,” squeaked Joe. Nodding in acknowledgement, PC Gallimore continued.

  “Mr Frey, may I suggest that you pay more attention to the upbringing of your sixteen-year-old? You have not set a very good example to him.”

  Grant lowered his head in shame knowing he had acted irrationally. “Look, can I explain? My wife was rushed into hospital last night (was it only last night?), and I’ve hardly slept in two days. Then this evening she was taken to Southampton Hospital in an ambulance to have a brain scan. Everything is going wrong and I just lost it when I woke up to find two men in my back garden,” Grant pleaded.

  “Okay, Mr Frey, we can see that you are having some problems. May I suggest that you get some sleep after you have had your foot looked at?” PC Gallimore had returned to being the nice, quiet officer.

  “Yes of course.” Grant felt relieved. Could this be the end of it?

  The police got up to leave. “Please, stay there, we’ll see ourselves out,” said PC Oakes raising her ‘Stop!’ hand again. “Make sure you get that looked at,” she said, pointing to the mixing bowl of soggy foot and musty, cooling water.

  “No it’s okay, I’ll see you out.” Joe jumped up and followed the police officers to the front door, saying goodbye and thank you to them.

  Grant worried about Joe escorting the officers to the door as he wasn’t the most polite, well-mannered person and usually spoke out before his brain had engaged. He hoped and prayed that Joe wouldn’t blurt out something silly like, “Ciao, piggy-wiggies!”

  “Dad, what have you been doing?” asked Emma, as she took on nurse duty and tried to dry Grant’s foot with the soggy tea towel she had used to dry the floor.

  “Oh, it’s a long story Em. I’ll tell you later. Make me a cup of tea darling, I’m gasping!”

  Emma tutted as she got up and went through to the kitchen, wishing her mum was home. She wouldn’t have to make so many cups of tea for her dad, if her mum was home. Probably none of this would have happened if her mum had been home, she decided as she reluctantly filled the kettle.

  “I thought you were going to get nicked, Dad!” Joe chortled, returning from escort duty.

  Grant looked up with raised eyebrows and rolled his eyes, as he shook his head in acknowledgement of the close call.

  “That would have been all we needed, son.”

  “Umm,” laughed Joe. “Mum and Grandma would go mad!”

  The new day was rapidly arriving, and once again Grant felt shattered emotionally and physically. What a weekend this was turning out to be, he thought. If he told everyone at the office about it on Monday, he doubted they would believe him.

  Looking down at his swollen, pulsating toes, Grant recalled the moment when Emma had arrived in the dining room. It must have looked like a scene from a comedy movie to her. He lovingly studied her as she searched through the medical box to find an appropriate dressing. She loved looking through the first aid box because it was full of lots of interesting bits and pieces. For the last few years, Grant and Alex had said she should be a nurse when she grew up.

  “This will do.” Emma unwrapped a small piece of muslin. “Shall I put some cream on first?”

  “What have we got in there?”

  “Hand cream?” Emma held it up.

  “No Em, that’s for your hands.”

  “Well we haven’t got any foot cream. Aren’t hands and feet the same?”

  Grant looked at her and decided that she had just given him more ammunition to taunt her, but he would save it for another
day.

  “Hand cream is not medicated, Em. Let me see in there.” He laughed as he peered into the box.

  “What are you laughing at?” Emma frowned.

  “Nothing honey.” Grant smiled. He couldn’t be bothered to explain it to her now. “Here, look – this is for burns. That’ll do.” Grant passed the tube to her.

  “Dad, this went out of date in 2005!” she exclaimed, carefully reading the instructions on the tube.

  “That’s okay, it’ll do,” he replied.

  Then Emma made a very professional job of binding Grant’s three toes, although he could hardly fit his slipper over the extensive wadding, let alone anything else.

  “You would have made a great job of those Pharaohs in Egypt, Emma. You should take up mummification for a hobby!”

  “People don’t get mummified anymore, do they?” she asked innocently.

  “No Em, they don’t!” Grant grinned.

  After the events of the last few hours, Joe now had time to think through the night’s affairs and his stolen bike, as he sat in his room sulking. He’d lost yet another bike. He’d saved all his paper-round wages to pay the three hundred pounds for it and it had taken him months and months to save up. His dad had said he would have to buy it himself as the last two hadn’t been locked when they were stolen and he would not pay for another one if Joe couldn’t look after them properly and lock them up.

  But he had locked his new bike!

  It had been locked to the rotary washing line, where he always left it. So how could they have stolen it? Joe lay down on his bed, feeling annoyed and tired, and drifted off to sleep.

  It was another clear, crisp morning as Grant carefully stepped out to the patio and looked around the garden. The glistening grass slept peacefully under heavy dew, waiting for the sun’s rays to creep slowly around the garden, warming on its way.

  Limping round to the side of the house, Grant inhaled the ‘breath of fresh air’ deeply – he always referred to his cigarettes in this way.

  Recalling the events of yet another long night, he looked at the gate and was surprised that he had actually managed to climb over it. He couldn’t do it now with his toes bandaged together and an aching back. He knew he would pay for his nocturnal agility antics now.

  Hobbling back towards the patio, Grant noticed Joe’s bike lock lying on the floor under the rotary line. The chain had been cut in half. So that’s how they got it, he thought angrily. However, he was still puzzled as to how he could have seen the criminals running away without a bike in tow. Bending down to pick the damaged lock up, he stopped abruptly. It might have fingerprints on it. He decided to leave it there and call the police later, not that they would be interested, he thought.

  “Cup of tea, Dad?” Emma stood on the patio, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Yes please.” Grant didn’t know why she was so cheerful now after her sulky all-day protest yesterday. Maybe she had already accepted the punishment. She didn’t usually hold a grudge for long, unlike Joe (the whole family would soon know about Joe’s bike, or lack of it) who would mope around for weeks and weeks. Perhaps Emma was grinning because it was Easter Sunday and she wanted to devour a large chocolate egg in one sitting (which wasn’t uncommon for Emma to do).

  Grant’s mind wandered to Alex. How he missed her this morning and wished she was with him. He was so worried about her mysterious condition and could not contemplate the thought of her not getting better very soon. He wanted her home, he wanted normality and he wanted her love.

  “Dad, what time are Jack and Aaron getting home?”

  Grant looked at Emma in surprise. He had forgotten about them arriving home this morning.

  “I would’ve thought they’d be here by now,” he replied, trying to remember the one text message he’d received from Jack last night. He hadn’t even read all of the messages on his phone yet. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of communications. Usually this was Alex’s department.

  Quarter to eight on a Sunday morning and the phone is ringing – it can only be one person, thought Grant as he stumbled into the house and was met by Emma holding the phone.

  “It’s Grandma!” she whispered.

  Grant tutted. “Morning Dot, you’re up and about early.”

  “Grant, Evelyn tells me the police have been round. What’s happened?” Panicky tones rang through her voice.

  “Dot, no panic – Joe had another bike stolen last night, that’s all.” That bloody woman Evelyn across the road is a ninety-year-old, stick-stomping stalker!

  “Oh no, not another one. But why were the police round so early this morning?”

  “I called them late last night, so they just came round to take a statement as they knew I was up,” Grant lied.

  There’s no way I’m telling her everything that happened last night! She’d set up a stakeout across the road at Evelyn’s house to make sure I was behaving myself!

  “Very efficient! They haven’t done that before, have they?”

  “No, I think it’s because it’s the third time it’s happened,” he lied again.

  “Poor lad, I bet he’s heartbroken, and at Easter too.”

  Umm, not sure that Easter makes any difference to how he’s feeling, Dot.

  “How is Alex? I popped round yesterday evening. Did you get the bag I left for her?”

  “Yes thanks, I’ll take it over with me this afternoon. She’s in Southampton – they took her there last night for an MRI scan.”

  “What? Bloody hell Grant, why didn’t you call me? What’s wrong with her?”

  “They still don’t know yet. She’s in good spirits and the doctors are doing everything possible.”

  “How long will she be there?” Dot sounded quite stressed.

  “I think she’s only staying there until she’s had the MRI today.” Grant shuffled back to the sunny patio, desperately needing another ‘breath of fresh air’.

  “Where do we go then if we want to see her?”

  “I’d leave it for today Dot. I’m really not sure what will be going on.” He took a long draw on his cigarette and relaxed as the calming rush of nicotine kicked in.

  “Grant, we are so worried about her, you must keep us informed please.”

  “I will Dot, I promise. It was past midnight when I got home. I was going to give you a call this morning to let you know. You beat me to it again,” he lied yet again.

  Suddenly Grant felt an overwhelming sense of empathy for Dot and Charlie. After all, Alex was their only child. They were great in-laws when life was running smoothly, but Grant was struggling to cope himself at the moment, let alone worry about the feelings of anyone else. He too was desperately anxious about Alex and everything just seemed to have gone tits-up since Friday.

  “I know Grant, sorry, you must have a lot on your plate at the moment, looking after the kids and rushing around everywhere.”

  Erm, the kids can look after themselves, it’s me that needs looking after!

  “Please let us know where we need to go to see her as soon as you can and make sure you look after yourself too. You know we’re always here if you need anything Grant. It’s very hard for you too, I realise that.”

  Touched by her acknowledgement of his predicament, Grant felt sad and sorry for himself. This weekend couldn’t be over quick enough.

  “Thanks Mum.” Grant had usually relented when he called Dot ‘Mum’.

  “Is Jack home now?”

  “No, he should be back anytime soon, with Aaron.” That was another story he did not want to get into now.

  “I’ll call back later on then. Maybe we could have a chat with Jack and arrange to see him as well.”

  Dot hadn’t picked up on the Aaron story, luckily. Grant did not have the energy or inclination to explain anything at the moment.

  “Okay Dot, I’ll talk to you again as soon as I know anything about Alex.”

  “Thank you. Bye-bye for now.” She hung up.

  Gazing across the lawn in a d
aydream, Grant thought about many things and generated a tick list in his head. Perhaps this was the type of thing that Alex did. She always said she had ‘to do’ lists floating around in her mind, waiting to be ticked off.

  His list was relatively short and consisted of five bullet points: buy a packet of fags, get some petrol, sort toes out so I can wear shoes, get Emma to wash my car as one of her ‘payback’ jobs, and sleep. The latter being the most favourable job to tick off first. This time he would go to bed and hopefully he wouldn’t be disturbed by anything or anyone.

  “Here’s your tea.” Emma startled Grant and he jumped back into the here and now. Placing the cup on the table, she went to head back indoors, but halted on the step. “Can I open an Easter egg, Dad?”

  Grant smiled to himself – he knew she would want to open one as soon as possible and he’d been waiting for this. “Have some breakfast first, at least, please Em.”

  Stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray, Grant leaned back in the chair and basked in the early morning sunshine. Jack and Aaron would be home any minute and he could retire to his bed once he’d caught up with them. Really looking forward to seeing Jack after such a long time, Grant grinned at the impending reunion and ‘lads’ chats’ he would have with him.

  Having a close relationship with all of his children, Grant had come to enjoy them more and more as they’d grown older. He was able to relate to them much better as teens and young adults than when they were younger. Learning so much about himself when the kids were very young, Grant had also had to come to terms with the loss of his mum and dad, which took a considerable length of time and a lot of heartache on his part. He felt that he’d missed some of the vital years of their development due to his inability to cope with anything. There were two years of his life that had drifted by almost unnoticed as he tried to come to terms with his loss.

  Continually there and forever understanding, through the good times and the bad times, Alex had been Grant’s proverbial rock.