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

by Tara Ford

  “Grant, is that you? Are you all right?” she asked in astonishment.

  “Yes it is me,” he laughed into the phone, too loudly, making his head hurt more.

  “Are you drunk or having a nervous breakdown Grant? Do you need me to come over?”

  “No I’m not drunk Dot, everything’s fine, we’re all okay here. I just called to let you know that I haven’t actually told Alex about the fire yet—”

  “Why?” Dot jumped in.

  “Well, as I was just about to say, Emma had an accident at the hospital last night which took over everything else. She’s okay... she trapped her thumb in a hole but she’s fine.”

  “Trapped her thumb in a hole? What are you talking about? Do I need to come over and look after her while you’re at the hospital? Where is Alex now, anyway?”

  “Listen Dot, I’m not going to come for dinner today as you already know, because there is too much to sort out, but Emma is fine and she’ll be there, with Joe hopefully.” Pausing for a breath, Grant then continued calmly. “Alex is back at the General, she’s feeling a bit better. They are moving her again today to another ward, but I’m not sure which one yet.”

  “I’ll call the hospital and find out,” said Dot, quite sternly. “Are Jack and Aaron coming for dinner?

  “No, they want to go and see Alex today. They haven’t even spoken to her yet. Well, neither has Joe but I’m not sure that he’d want to go to the hospital – he can’t cope with it, you know what he’s like.”

  “Yes I know he can’t, poor beggar, but if she doesn’t get better, he’ll have to go and see his mum. How many visitors can she have?” she asked, sounding like she’d calmed down.

  “She’s in a small isolation room. I think it’s only two at a time,” Grant guessed.

  “You know that I would love to see her Grant, but I don’t want to interfere with any of your chances of seeing her.”

  “I know, maybe it would be better to leave it just for another day or two.” Momentarily, Grant had forgotten about Tuesday’s events, and then remembered as he continued. “If she’s still there on Wednesday, why don’t you go over then? Or I could take you?” Grant listened intently, as there was a pause at the other end of the phone.

  “Hmm, all right my love. We’re busy most of the day tomorrow, aren’t we? I imagine Charlie won’t feel up to going over there tomorrow night and I know you’ll want to see her, so maybe it’s best to leave it until Wednesday.”

  Sighing with relief, Grant relaxed. “That’s great Dot, and I will break the news to her tonight about the fire. I know she’ll be worried out of her mind but I suppose she needs to be told.”

  “I think she should be told, Grant. It wouldn’t be nice if we all pretended nothing had happened and she came out of hospital to find her kitchen in cinders.”

  “You’re right,” Grant agreed. “What time shall I come over tomorrow morning?”

  “The photographers will be ready at around nine o’clock, so you could come over then. Is that okay?”

  “No problem, I’ll see you then.”

  “All right, love, bye for now.” The phone went silent and Grant put the handset back onto the base. Phew! He’d done it. He’d actually beaten Dot to the phone for once. This called for a celebratory cigarette out on the sunny patio.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I want to go to Grandma’s anyway,” mumbled Emma as she lay in her warm bed examining her black and blue thumb. “It matches Jack’s eye now,” she said, holding it up in the air.

  “Come on then, up you get,” Grant called through the opened door. Crossing the landing, he knocked on Joe and Aaron’s bedroom door. “Joe!”

  A muffled ‘“Yeah!” came from within and Grant knew that Joe was awake. Once Joe was awake, everyone else could possibly be awake. Unable to keep down the volume control of his voice box, he was naturally very loud.

  Having taken a shower, Grant felt slightly more alive than he had earlier. The carefully overwrapped bandage on his toes had slipped off, exposing the burns as he peeled off his sock. He spent most of his time under the shower screaming silently as the warm water trickled to his feet. Upon close examination Grant could see that his toes were still glowing red like angry little devils. Dressing them more lightly than Emma had, he cringed as he pulled on a fresh pair of socks.

  The phone call (instead of a text – Grant was feeling adventurous) to Jeff had been quite humorous, yet also, not funny at all. Jeff listened in disbelief as Grant detailed the course of events and misfortunes, starting at Friday night and finishing his tale at Sunday night.

  “Bloody hell Grant! I can’t believe it,” Jeff responded down the phone. A few more words between the two and Grant knew that everything would be taken care of and he wouldn’t be expected in the office until next week.

  The list-writing and planning strategy was actually working. Grant was feeling better by the minute as he solved one problem after another. Taking a moment to reflect on his morning of successes, Grant sat on the patio with a mug of tea and smoked his cigarette heavily.

  Joe and Emma had gone off happily with Charlie when he came to pick them up.

  Jack and Aaron were still in bed.

  The garden gnomes were busily posing and grinning around the edges of the lawn like they always did. Life was almost great, just for a very brief moment, until Grant remembered again.

  Knowing there was so much more to accomplish today, Grant finished his tea, stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and went indoors to survey the kitchen once again and decide what he was going to do.

  Stomping down the stairs like a Neanderthal man, Jack headed for the kitchen and hazily searched for a breakfast bowl amongst the charred remains of the cupboards. Rising from his bed at midday annoyed him as he felt he’d wasted half of the day and his precious holiday time. The mission today was to lie in wait for his brother Aaron to surface, and then go on the bus to visit his mum.

  Trawling through countless kitchen websites, Grant concluded that it would be a much better idea to wait until Alex was home and feeling well enough before he ordered a new one. If he went ahead now, it would surely be the wrong one – he wasn’t that accomplished as an Alex-clone yet. Switching off the computer, he collected a rucksack from the cupboard under the stairs and went up to their bedroom in search of items that Alex might need.

  Discovering that he didn’t have a clue what Alex would want, Grant screwed up his eyes, opened her knicker drawer and delved in grabbing the first pair he touched. Repeating the process, Grant presumed that she may need two pairs, depending on how long she had to stay in hospital. Gathering up random items and the spare tube of toothpaste in the bathroom cabinet, he realised that he was probably no better at packing a bag for his wife than Emma was.

  As soon as Aaron was awake enough to walk in a straight line (which could take hours), the two brothers left the house and set off to the hospital. Grant had offered to take them over there but Jack preferred the adventure of an English bank-holiday-nightmare bus ride, independence, and of course chance encounters of the female kind. The glorious summery weather was getting more unusual for April as the days rolled by in constant sunshine. This made the bus trip far more pleasurable for Jack. Sightseeing along the way, he pointed out every bit of bare, pink, female flesh he could spot, which bored Aaron to the point of despair.

  “How’s everything going there?” asked Grant, as Zoe politely answered the phone.

  “Hi Grant, yeah everything is just fine. How’s Alex?” The cheeriness of her voice echoed in the phone.

  “She’s getting better slowly. She’s still in hospital. I think it could be a while before she’s well enough to return,” warned Grant.

  “We’ll manage, tell her not to worry. I sent her a text yesterday but haven’t heard back so I guessed she might still be there.”

  “Oh, I’ve got her phone here, it’s charging. You’ve just reminded me I need to take it in to her,” he laughed.

  “Okay, maybe I might hear fr
om her then. But honestly Grant, if there are any problems I’ll call you. I’ve sorted out everyone’s hours and they’re all happy to help out.”

  “Well done Zoe, we knew we could count on you to deal with it. Thank you.”

  “Anything I can do, just let me know and please give Alex our love and best wishes for a speedy recovery,” she almost sang.

  “I will, cheers. Bye Zoe.”

  “Byeeee!” she did sing.

  It was all going really well actually, surmised Grant, replacing the phone and flicking through the TV channels.

  Jack and Aaron would arrive home later, and hungry as usual, but finding something to eat would be fun if they had to guess the contents of each of the tins, carefully scrubbed and peeled of labels by Dot and her evil counterpart Evelyn.

  A flash went through Grant’s mind: Aaron had got up earlier than normal on a holiday.

  The thought nipped and momentarily niggled at his brain.

  Another flash whizzed by as Grant flicked absentmindedly through the TV offerings. Jack came home yesterday. Jack and Aaron had gone out together – again it picked at the dense matter inside his head, but not enough to spark any recognition.

  Settling for a wildlife documentary about otters, Grant slid down in the recliner to get more comfortable.

  Flash: Jack and Aaron have gone to the hospital on the bus.

  Just time for a quick nap before Joe and Emma get home, thought Grant.

  Flash: Jack and Aaron have gone to visit their mum.

  Heavy eyelids starting to droop, Grant drifted on the brink of unconsciousness as the broadcaster droned on.

  “The Southern River otters inhabit both marine and fresh waters, from rocky coasts to rivers and canals. Medium in size, the otter ranges from—”

  Flash: Freaking Hell!

  Grant’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes opened, wide and alert. Jack and Aaron were on their way to see their mum! Sickness caressed the back of his throat as he gulped and gasped.

  Heaving himself up and out of the chair, he reached for the phone. Heading for the garden, Grant grabbed his packet of cigarettes, flipped the top open and pulled one out with his teeth as he listened intently to the continuous ringing of Jack’s phone.

  Shit, no one answered the call.

  Desperately, Grant fingered through the directory and called Aaron’s mobile number instead. Again, a continuous ringing could be heard, but strangely echoing through the house this time.

  Typical – as usual, Aaron’s phone was ringing upstairs in his bedroom.

  Angrily, Grant hung up, left his cigarette burning in the ashtray and went indoors, frantically searching for his own mobile. That bloody Aaron never takes his damned phone anywhere. I don’t know why he bothers having one, Grant judged harshly, growing more and more uptight as he couldn’t remember where he’d left his own phone.

  Dashing backwards and forwards with a strained groin and tender toes, Grant’s temper rose as the elusive little mobile remained hidden and his desperate urge to send a text message multiplied tenfold.

  “Bloody stupid thing!” Grant shouted, throwing Aaron’s phone across the bedroom.

  Bouncing off the opposite wall, the casing split in half and the insides of the high-tech mobile disintegrated into several small pieces. Attempting to use someone else’s phone to send a text message while in a rage was not a good idea. Grant’s technological aptitude was non-existent and sending a text message on his own phone was difficult enough. He much preferred to simply call people. Hurting and aching from the last few days of injuries, he stomped out of the room, kicking the pieces and scattering them as he went. Fury raged within him and he knew he had to quell it.

  Sidestepping into the bathroom, Grant turned on the cold tap, cupped his hands and splashed water onto his flushed face. Opening his eyes, he glanced up at the windowsill in front of him, and there it was. His mobile phone.

  If you get this, Jack, don’t tell Mum about the fire or anything else. I’ll tell her tonight.

  Pressing the ‘send’ button, Grant’s heated disposition began to melt. A solitary tear smarted in his eye as he mellowed and softened. The weekend of consecutive calamities was catching up with him and taking a toll on his mental state. Short-tempered, overtired, aching and throbbing from head to toes, Grant’s distress was beginning to show in many ways.

  Returning to Aaron’s bedroom, he picked up the pieces of metal and plastic and promised himself that he would buy a new phone for his son, whether Aaron used it or not. It wouldn’t have been an issue in normal circumstances, as it had been today. Troubled with worry, Grant dared to imagine what was going on at the hospital. His wife could have discharged herself by now, he worried, visualising her racing through corridors and hopelessly attempting to manoeuvre a wheelchair in order to escape. Knowing her so well, he guessed what she would think once she discovered the truth. She’d determine that the family and their home really couldn’t survive without her around. A ridiculous assumption, but one that Grant knew that Alex held close to her heart and believed in. The boys had more than likely told her everything. Although they weren’t at home during some of the incidents, they certainly knew it all and could tell a jolly good story.

  Struggling to compose a lighter, brighter attitude, Grant recalled the morning’s lists and plans that he’d enjoyed working on. Somehow he needed to get back to that brief moment of serenity and hope. Perhaps another cigarette would do it. A ‘breath of fresh air’ would help to clear his mind and clarify what on earth he was going to say to Alex when he visited her later. He could feel it in his bones – she knew about everything. He’d had the chance to tell her last night and he’d blown it.

  Alex

  Most of the morning had been spent talking to several well-dressed, well-spoken members of the hospital’s management about complaints, claims and litigation.

  No! I will not be making a claim for my daughter’s injuries. Stop panicking and go away!

  A representative from facilities management and the Nursing Director’s team of two gentlemen proudly displayed badges that I couldn’t bother to read or even manage to decipher. As they left the room, looking somewhat perplexed by my lacklustre attitude, I sighed with relief. Memories of the previous evening filled me with contempt and embarrassment. Seeing my daughter attached to the plumbing and my exasperated husband sprawled out on the floor, doing the splits, while pink gel dripped off him, I desperately wanted to try and carry on as normally as I possibly could under the circumstances.

  I hoped I’d seen the last of the suited workforce.

  Tottering through the door again, the cheery, fragile old man carried in a small box and carefully placed it under the pipes sticking out of the wall.

  “You’ll be going soon, love. I can fit the new sink then.” He beamed a brown, toothy smile and proceeded to open the cardboard box excitedly, like he had just received a Christmas present.

  “How do you know I’m going? Going where?” I asked excitedly. The dismal room had looked even more prison-like since the old washbasin had been removed. During the night I’d been sure that the walls were closing in around me, and in my condition I wasn’t up for any Indiana Jones dramatics.

  “Nurse said.” Pointing an arthritic finger to the door, the wobbly little man continued. “She said you’re going upstairs so I can get on with the job.”

  Feeling immensely relieved, I thanked him for letting me know and started to collect as many of my things as I could reach. I was moving soon, and elation propelled me to reach further than I should have to grab all my belongings. Gripping the opposite side of the bed with one hand, I just managed to collect everything without repeating Grant’s performance and landing myself on the floor by the old man’s feet. Plumping up the pillows behind me, I sat upright and looked smug as I waited patiently for my departure from the room of doom.

  Straining my eyes to adjust to the sunlight pouring through two large windows, I blinked as the porter wheeled me into the new room
. Another single room, offset from the main ward – nice, I thought as I surveyed my new home.

  Two storeys up, I took in the panoramic view of the bustling, bank holiday bargain-hunters, travelling or queuing in cars, in the town below, and the hazy, azure sea stretching out beyond the town’s perimeter. A cloudless blue sky crowned the picturesque scene, and a strong desire to be outside and feeling the sunshine on my skin overwhelmed me. It almost felt like heaven here compared to the dingy isolation unit I’d come from. Grant and Emma will like this, I decided as I lifted the bags from the bed, reached across and placed them on the bedside table.

  “Hello, you must be Alex?” asked a sprightly young nurse rhetorically, as she bounced into the room like Tigger at a birthday party. Smiling warmly, I nodded.

  “Yes. This is a much nicer place than the assessment unit.” I sighed with relief.

  “Oh, we do try to look good up here.” She laughed, as she took the notes from the end of the bed and left.

  Above my head hung a television/phone unit, ready and waiting for me to give my credit card details. Annoyed that I wouldn’t be able to watch the news for free, I set about filling in the onscreen form to set up an account. At least I’d be able to catch up with the world outside, if nothing else. Craving normality was torturous. I only prayed that the nightmare of being ill and hospitalised would soon be over, and then I could return to my life. The life I loved.

  Regaining a normal existence took precedence over the health issues I was suffering from, which was pretty ironic in the current circumstances and quite a ridiculous notion. Realising I had my priorities the wrong way round, I lay back on the pillows and willed myself to get well soon as I drifted into a peaceful snooze.

  “It’s my mother!” The instantly recognisable voice and familiar catchphrase filtered through my sleepy thoughts as I opened my eyes and smiled.

  “Jack!” I squealed excitedly, rubbing the sleepiness away.