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

by Tara Ford

  Thankfully for Aaron, it was time to go. He drained the coffee mug and jumped off the kitchen worktop. “Thank you for the coffee,” he said, edging towards the hallway and his escape.

  Flinging her arms around Jack, Karen apologised sincerely for her boyfriend’s behaviour and for Jack’s black eye.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy now. I can handle it. Just get things sorted out for you, babe.”

  Nodding her head, Karen showed them to the door and watched as they hurried down the stairs.

  Luckily, the next train was due to arrive within 30 minutes as Jack and Aaron had just missed their ticketed ride home. Seated silently on a metal bench they watched the sun rise slowly in the distance, way down the train track on their left.

  Proud and amazed by his composure during the brawl with Jay, Jack prodded the outer edges of his swollen eye socket and winced. Karen had a bit of a problem with that new boyfriend of hers, and Jay’s jealous streak could only lead to further problems in the future, he concluded. Hoping she would be able to sort it out, Jack wished that happiness would one day fall upon her – she deserved nothing less. The track record for ‘Karen meets boy’ was not a proven one and Jack had always believed that some women could just be too good-looking for their own good.

  The last 12 hours had felt like an oppressive cloud looming above Aaron (by his standards of eternal peace and tranquillity), and one that he never wished to repeat. His plan to get home early and see his mum had not worked and now they would be getting home even later. Sleep was top of the agenda for both of them and Aaron guessed that he would spend a good deal of the day doing it now.

  As for Jack, he was the proud owner of a whopping black eye, which continued to sting as an assortment of colours blossomed in the socket.

  Whatever else happened, at least they could be home in an hour and a half and Aaron would then be able to satisfy the physical craving for his safe, warm and cosy bed. His shell.

  Grant

  Sipping tea on the patio, Grant eased his slipper off and wriggled his bandaged toes. They were much more painful than they had been earlier, and guessing that perhaps Emma had bound them too tightly, he decided to investigate the burns when he showered later, before he went back to the hospital. Wondering which hospital he should go to, Grant decided to phone the General first and find out when, or if, Alex would be returning there. He had quite a story to tell her but would she regard him as a hero or a fool? Probably the latter, he guessed. She wouldn’t be impressed by his rash behaviour or his lack of parental skills and guidance if she knew he’d taken Joe on a vigilante mission in the middle of the night.

  Familiar voices drifted into the garden from within the house and Grant knew that Jack and Aaron had arrived home. Smiling to himself, he remembered that they’d had to endure a long journey back during the night.

  Stubbing out another cigarette, Grant made his way through to the lounge as well as he could manage with sore toes and aching gate-climbing limbs.

  “Hello Dad!” Jack waited for the shocked look on his dad’s face as he peeled Emma from his back.

  Trying to jump up on him again, Jack stopped her in her tracks. “Get off, you lump,” he said.

  Emma had enjoyed piggybacks around the garden for as long as she could remember but huffily, she stopped and got off him.

  “Bloody hell, what have you been up to?” asked Grant, shaking Jack’s hand and pulling him towards his chest as he hugged his firstborn.

  “Don’t ask,” replied Jack, peering over his shoulder at Aaron standing behind him, grinning.

  “Don’t tell me Aaron did that,” laughed Grant in surprise.

  “No, no, he didn’t.” Jack smiled. “I’ll tell you about it later, Dad. Anyway, what’s up with you limping around like an old man?”

  “Don’t ask!”

  “On a serious note, how is Mum?” asked Jack.

  “Emma darling, can you put the kettle on? Come on, we’ll sit in the garden and have some tea.” Grant patted Aaron on the back as the two boys walked through to the patio, leaving their rucksacks scattered on the floor in the middle of the lounge.

  “That’s not fair! Why do I have to do everything just because Mum’s not here?” Emma protested, wanting to be outside with her dad and the boys. Curious about Jack’s black eye, she flicked the empty kettle on and trotted out to join the trio. “I’ll make it in a minute, Dad,” she informed him as she joined them at the table, while Grant was giving them all the details he knew about their mum’s illness.

  Three of the foursome took turns to tell their weekend stories and spent over an hour discussing what had gone wrong for each of them since Alex had been admitted into hospital.

  Emma kept quiet, still sulking about her punishment. If there was a ‘the world is not fair’ expression, she would have been wearing that too.

  The only person who had escaped any unfortunate mishap (apart from his bike) was Joe, but Grant had forgotten about the killer cows.

  “Oh, I’ve got to tell you what happened to Joe last night,” sniggered Grant as he recalled the tale. “Or maybe we should wait until he wakes up and then he can tell you.” Grant winked at Emma. “By the way, where’s that tea, Em?”

  Stomping off, Emma threw herself through the patio doors, went into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on again before returning quickly to the garden – she didn’t want to miss anything, especially given that they might talk about her.

  “No, tell us now Dad,” pleaded Aaron. Any bit of ammunition against his younger brother could only be a good thing.

  “No, it wouldn’t be fair. He did get a bit annoyed last night when he told us because we couldn’t stop laughing, could we Emma?” Grant cracked up as he looked at her.

  “Hmm.” Emma was bored now. She wasn’t getting the usual attention, just because she had been the naughty one getting a letter home, so she sulked some more.

  “Well Jack, I’m sure nothing else can go wrong now. Good to have you back home, son.” Patting him on the back, Grant beamed, he had a superb family. “Is that tea ready yet Em?”

  “Huh,” Emma huffed, as she went back indoors. “Dad, the kettle’s not working,” she hollered.

  Entering the kitchen, Grant looked puzzled. “Bloody hell Emma, you’ve boiled it dry,” he shouted peering into the bottom of the kettle. “Why didn’t you put any water in it? For goodness’ sake Emma. It’s bloody ruined. You’ve burnt out the element.”

  “I thought there was water in it already. I didn’t know,” she grunted, folding her arms and leaning on the sink, pouting.

  “We’ll have to go and buy a new one now. You should always check there’s water first,” said Grant, getting more annoyed, knowing he couldn’t have his tea-fix now until he’d been to the supermarket.

  “We need Mum to get better and come home don’t we?” piped Aaron as he sauntered through and stopped in the archway. “She always makes the tea.” Desperately missing her, he needed to hear it from his dad that Mum was going to get better and she was going to come home.

  “All right, you don’t have to rub it in, Aaron!” shrieked Emma and stormed out, pushing past him with an elbow shove to his ribs as she went.

  “No, you’re right mate,” whispered Grant, “and she will be home soon, don’t you worry.” Grabbing a saucepan from the cupboard, he began to heat a pan of water to make his much-needed cup of tea.

  It was already warming up, although the day hadn’t really got started yet. The kitchen clock reached 9.30 and appeared to tick much louder than usual as Grant crouched awkwardly over his burnt toes. Hiding behind the archway in the kitchen, he could hear his body screaming at him to get some rest, or at least have a soak in the bath to help heal the aches and pains. But losing was not an option – he would get the last hit. Flicking and twisting his tea towel, he prepared himself for the next onslaught of towel-flickers approaching from the rear garden.

  “I’m not playing anymore!” shouted Emma as she stomped through the
dining room, looking for her dad.

  Motionless, Grant continued to squat behind the archway. This could be a ploy, he thought, to get him out of hiding and receive a good thrashing from them all.

  “Dad, what jobs have I got to do?” Emma didn’t sound like she was the bait to catch Grant out.

  “Shush, I’m over here, Em. We’ll sort it out in a minute.”

  Emma turned and headed into the kitchen. “I want to start doing the jobs I’ve got to do,” she huffed.

  “Just wait a minute, you’ll blow my cover,” whispered Grant.

  Rolling her eyes and tutting, she leaned back against the worktop with her legs crossed and arms folded.

  Racing back into the house, Joe shrieked as Jack came hotfooting after him, spinning his tea towel in readiness for another super-slick stinger. Joe wound round the table and back out to the garden as Grant stood up and appeared from behind the arch to catch the tail end of Jack’s legs as he too turned to exit the dining room.

  “Last hit!” exclaimed Grant as Jack stopped dead in surprise. “That’s it I’ve got things to do now. I’ve won, mate.”

  “Ah, come on Dad, that’s not fair, you can’t bail out,” Jack retorted.

  “That’s not fair daddykins, you can’t bail out, boo hoo, blah blah,” mimicked Joe as he poked his head around the patio doors teasing and tormenting Jack. Then Joe shot away, laughing out loud, as his big brother heaved himself towards the door, after him.

  Grinning victoriously, Grant folded his tea towel and returned it to the cupboard. “Right Em, your job today is to clean my car. I suppose we had better do your mother’s yet again as well.”

  “Ah no Dad, I can’t do that. What if my mates see me?” Emma was horrified at the thought.

  “Your mates won’t be up at this time in the morning. Wait a minute and then I’ll show you what you have to do,” he replied, grabbing the bread from the roll-top bin and placing two slices in the toaster, his tummy growling like a rabid dog. Checking that the dial was turned to the highest setting, he pressed the lever and down went the bread. It never failed to amaze him how the kids always had it set on the lowest setting to produce barely recognisable toast, but that was how they liked it: warmed through, limp bread. Yuck. The thing that annoyed him and Alex the most was that they would then put their limp buttered bread into the microwave to warm it up.

  “Right, come on then and I’ll show you what to do quickly while my toast is cooking. It won’t take you long.”

  Emma followed behind him like a depressed caged animal, all the way around the side of the house, through the gate and out to the drive.

  Passing Jack and Joe on the way, Emma noticed that Joe was starting to get angry as usual. Incapable of losing a fun family game, unfortunately Joe’s lack of sleep had made him more of a sore loser than normal.

  “I’m going to football. Let’s stop now!” shouted Joe as he turned and walked away. Following close behind, Jack caught up with him at the kitchen archway.

  “All right mate, last hit,” laughed Jack as he flicked Joe on his behind.

  Reaching for his kit bag and scooting round to the other side of the table, Joe threw his towel across the room at Jack.

  “Missed.” Jack burst out, ducking the flying tea towel, which landed in the kitchen.

  “Come on then, I’m not playing anymore anyway. We’re gonna be late,” snapped Joe as Jack too, threw his towel onto the kitchen top.

  Leaving through the back door, the brothers walked round to the drive and said goodbye to Grant and Emma.

  Joe’s tournament would last most of the day and Jack had promised he would go with him, although he was extremely tired and somewhat headachy from his throbbing eye.

  Aaron had the more sensible idea of going to bed after his catch-up with his dad and Emma earlier. He’d discussed the possibility of seeing his mum today but his dad had explained the complications of not knowing which hospital she would be in and had suggested that both Aaron and Jack leave their visit until tomorrow. Hopefully by then, they would all know where Alex was going to be.

  Emma carried the bucket to the outside tap on the side of the house, filled it with water and returned back through the gate to the drive. The look on her face made it plainly obvious to Grant that she hated every minute of it. She looked up and down the road, checking no one was around that might possibly see her cleaning cars and then she plonked the bucket on the floor next to her dad, splashing cold water over the sides of the container, drenching his feet.

  “Emma, will you be careful?” he hollered as she stood nonchalantly, chewing her bottom lip. “I’ve got bad toes, remember!” Busily preparing a soapy cleaner, sponges and cloths he’d found in the shed, Grant made sure the job would be as stress-free as possible for Emma. He sensed her distaste and didn’t want to prolong the agony any more than he had to.

  “Yoo-hoo!”

  Grant froze as he heard the croaky voice crackling across the road.

  “Good morning Grant!” The whining tongue of Evelyn crept closer and closer.

  Looking up from the bucket that Emma had just plonked on the floor, Grant was so tempted to turn and run.

  “How is Alex?” asked Evelyn as she finally reached the drive, a mere 30 yards from her own home.

  “Morning Evelyn, Alex is okay. She’s doing well.” He smiled weakly.

  Emma had quickly crouched down on the opposite side of the car, just out of Evelyn’s view. Sniggering, she began to crawl on all fours, round to the gate and try and make a dash back into the garden without being seen. Emma’s thoughts were the same as her dad’s. She did not like Evelyn either. At times she’d spent over an hour trying to edge herself away from Evelyn’s idle gossip.

  An expert in entrapment, Evelyn would hang around in her front garden, across the road, waiting for an unlucky passer-by and then she would pounce. There was no escape for anyone. She was like the avenue’s personal, woman-sized spider, sat in her web, waiting and watching for the next innocent fly to cross her path. Sometimes she would venture out to spin further webs in the neighbouring gardens, capturing unsuspecting homeowners who were going in and out of their houses. The unassuming gardeners of Pinewood Avenue had no chance of absconding as they tended their front lawns and hanging baskets.

  Now she had caught Grant and he knew there would be no one to bail him out for hours. He had to come up with a cunning plan to get rid of her.

  “I hear poor Joe has had another bike stolen. Those little beggars, I hope the police catch them,” Evelyn sneered as she entered the drive and propped her gnarled body against Grant’s car.

  “Yeah, it’s bloody annoying to say the least. The police don’t seem to do much about it either,” he sighed, wishing he could walk away from the silky threads she was beginning to wind tightly around him.

  “Have they said what is wrong with Alex yet?” she asked as she scanned up and down the avenue for more potential victims.

  “They’re not sure at the moment.”

  Peering over the roof of the car, Grant could just see Emma’s head bobbing up and down as she crawled her way round to the back.

  “I spoke to her mum earlier. Poor Dorothy and Charlie are so worried about her.”

  “Yes I know, we all are,” stated Grant as he watched from the corner of his eye at the tail end of the car, trying to catch a glimpse of Emma’s epic escape.

  “Where’s young Emma gone? I thought she was with you a few minutes ago,” the arachnid asked.

  She has arachnophobia Evelyn, she’s the lucky one; she has fled from your evil fangs.

  “Think she went indoors.” Grant’s eyes swivelled round to the gate while he smiled sweetly at Evelyn. Catching sight of Emma’s backside, he could just see her crawling through the gateway on all fours, he knew she had escaped and would not return until the black widow had disappeared.

  Propping herself up by the gate, Emma sat quietly and listened to the conversation on the drive, giggling softly to herself. She knew he
r dad detested Evelyn’s snoopy behaviour, and it served him right for making her do horrible, degrading jobs like cleaning cars. Resting against the wall, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes as the warmth of the sun kissed her face that wore a big smirk.

  “She is growing up quickly, isn’t she?” droned Evelyn. “I hear your Jack is home today too, what a courageous young man he has turned out to be. You must be so proud of him.”

  “Yeah, he came home this morning but he’s gone out with Joe now.” Grant tried his hardest to be polite and civil but his mind was saying, Go and rot somewhere – slowly!

  Usually Grant was a calm and caring person who could listen to anyone, help anyone and talk to anyone, but not this weekend. He’d experienced quite enough traumas for one weekend and Evelyn was a trauma in her own right.

  “I’d better get this car cleaned before I go back to the hospital to see Alex,” he said, picking up the bucket of water.

  “Why are you limping? Have you hurt your leg?” queried the eight-legged spy.

  “No, it’s my foot, it’s just a bit sore but it’s no problem.” Sod off! Grant screamed inwardly. He didn’t often swear but this was a cursing occasion and he would have happily said it out loud if he thought there would be no repercussions from Eve’s best friends, Dot and Charlie (but mainly Dot). What made it all the worse was the thought of Emma watching him and probably laughing her head off at his entrapment.

  “Ooh, there’s a police car coming down the road,” said Evelyn straining her ragged neck to watch the vehicle heading along the avenue.

  Barely visible at the very top of the road, the car steadily moved closer – Grant was sure that Evelyn had eagle vision to go with her web-spinning capabilities.

  Popping her head around the side of the gate, Emma peeped at her dad as he turned and spotted her hiding. Giggling, she moved back again so that the spider wouldn’t catch sight of her with one of its many eyes.

  The police car drew closer and slowed to a halt, as it parked directly outside Grant’s drive. What now? Placing the bucket on the floor, he approached cautiously and recognised the two officers from earlier.