Three Days Without a Call
Margaret Elizabeth checked the phone for the fourth time that morning. She lifted the receiver, listened for the dial tone, and set it back down. The line was working fine—so the silence wasn’t technical. She glanced at the clock: half past ten. Normally, Daniel called at nine sharp, right when he got to work. But this was the third day in a row without a word.
“Maybe he’s ill?” she muttered, dusting the telephone table. “Or perhaps they sent him on a sudden business trip?”
But Daniel always warned her ahead of time—their unspoken rule. She poured herself tea, but it tasted bitter, even with her usual sugar. She sat by the window, watching the street. Her neighbour, Eleanor Whitmore, was hanging laundry, humming cheerfully. Eleanor’s children phoned daily, her grandchildren visited every weekend. And Daniel…
The phone rang sharply. Margaret lunged for it, nearly knocking over the chair.
“Hello? Daniel?”
“Sorry, wrong number,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
“Oh… my apologies.”
She lowered the receiver slowly. Her heart pounded in her throat. How silly, getting so worked up over a wrong number. Returning to the window, she couldn’t focus on the street anymore. Her thoughts tangled, each one worse than the last.
Daniel drove for a logistics firm, covering routes across the region and sometimes farther. Had there been an accident? The news was full of motorway incidents. Margaret jumped up, pacing the room. Her hands shook as she dialled his number again.
“The person you are calling is currently unavailable,” the automated voice said.
“Goodness, what’s happened?” she whispered.
She remembered their argument last week—something stupid. Daniel had visited, and she’d pressed him about settling down. At thirty-five, he ought to be starting a family. He had frowned, insisting it wasn’t the right time—he needed to get his feet under him first. She hadn’t let it go.
“Mum, please, drop it,” he’d said wearily. “I’ve enough on my plate.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? You’ve a steady job, a flat, a car—what’s missing?”
“Understanding,” he’d muttered before leaving early.
She’d sulked all evening. Now, she regretted every word. Was he staying silent out of spite? No, Daniel wasn’t the type.
By noon, the worry was unbearable. She threw on her coat and went next door. Eleanor answered, startled.
“Margaret! What’s happened? You look—”
“Can I come in? I’m beside myself.”
They sat in the kitchen. Margaret spilled her fears; Eleanor listened, nodding occasionally.
“Have you been round his flat?” she finally asked.
“How? I don’t have a key. And it’s not proper to turn up uninvited.”
“You’re his mother! Go, knock. He might be laid up with flu—too poorly to call.”
“And if he’s not there?”
“Ask the neighbours. They’ll understand—mother’s worry, they know it well.”
Margaret hesitated. It made sense, but what if he wasn’t alone? What if he had company and she barged in?
“Maybe I should wait. He might ring tomorrow?”
“Three days, Margaret. That’s not like him. Better to know than torment yourself.”
That evening, she couldn’t bring herself to go. She lay awake, straining for the phone. Silence.
By the fourth morning, she couldn’t wait any longer. She took the Tube to his neighbourhood. His building loomed, nine floors of brick. On the fifth floor, she hesitated before the familiar door.
The bell echoed inside. Silence. She pressed again. Something rustled—footsteps.
“Who’s there?” Daniel’s voice was rough.
“It’s me, Mum.”
A pause. Locks clicked. The door cracked open. Daniel stood in rumpled pyjamas, unshaven, dark circles under his eyes.
“Mum? What’s wrong?”
“Daniel!” She moved to hug him, but he stepped back.
“Come in,” he muttered, retreating into the flat.
The place was a mess. Empty takeaway containers, beer bottles, an ashtray overflowing. The sofa was buried under tangled sheets.
“Daniel, what’s happened? I’ve been frantic—three days with no word!”
He dropped into an armchair, rubbing his face.
“Not now, Mum.”
“Not now? Are you ill? Have you a fever?” She reached for his forehead; he batted her hand away.
“I’m fine. Just…” He stared out the window.
“Just what? You’re frightening me.”
A long silence. Then, quietly:
“I got sacked.”
“Sacked? Why?”
“Crashed the van. My fault. Now I owe for the damages.”
Margaret sank onto the sofa. So that explained it—the silence, the mess, his hollowed-out look.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I’d scold you?”
“What was there to say? I’ve lost everything—job, reputation. No money, the mortgage due…” His voice cracked.
She went to him, sat beside him. This time, he didn’t pull away when she took his hand.
“Daniel, this isn’t the end. You’ll find work. The important thing is you’re unharmed.”
“You don’t understand. Thirty-five, no family, no savings, no proper trade. Just debt.”
“You’ve got a mother who loves you. And you’re clever with your hands—you’ll manage.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Clever hands? Couldn’t even keep a van on the road.”
“Tell me what happened.”
He exhaled.
“Running behind on a delivery. Boss insisted it couldn’t wait, but the roads were gridlocked. Took a shortcut—wet tarmac. Skidded on a bend, hit the barrier. Cargo ruined, van totalled.”
“And you?”
“Bruises. But the rest…” He waved a hand.
Margaret stood, heading to the kitchen. The clatter of washing-up filled the silence. She returned with teapot and cups.
“Tea first. Then we’ll sort it.”
“There’s nothing to sort.”
“Don’t be daft. Jobs are out there if you look. As for money—I’ve some put by.”
“I won’t take your savings.”
“It’s not taking. It’s help. From your mum.”
He looked at her then—the same lost expression he’d had as a boy, coming home with scraped knees or bad marks.
“Remember your maths GCSE? Thought the world had ended over one failed mock.”
“Vaguely.”
“And what happened?”
“You tutored me till I passed.”
“Exactly. There’s always a way—you just don’t always see it straight off.”
They drank in silence. Margaret cursed herself for waiting three days. A mother’s instincts were never wrong.
“Mum… I’m sorry. I was ashamed. Thought I’d sort it myself.”
“Oh, Daniel. You mustn’t hide such things from me. I’m here for the hard bits, too.”
“Didn’t want to upset you.”
“And I thought you were cross about… well, the marriage talk.”
He huffed a laugh.
“Not that. Though… you might’ve had a point. If I’d a wife, I wouldn’t be sat here like a hermit.”
“You’ll find one. First, get yourself right. When did you last eat properly?”
“Can’t recall.”
“Exactly. You’re pale as a sheet. I’ll pop to the shops, make you a proper roast.”
“Mum, don’t—”
“I will. You shower, shave. We’ll tidy up after.”
At the door, she turned.
“And never—never—go three days without calling. I need to know you’re safe.”
“Alright. Every other day, at least.”
That evening, they sat to a clean table. Daniel ate two helpings of roast beef. The flat smelled of lemon polish and gravy.
“Maybe it’s for the best, getting sacked,” he mused. “Hated that job. Rotten hours, foul boss…”
“What would you rather do?”
“Thought about a garage. I’m decent with motors. No capital, though.”
“What about a partner? Or start at an existing shop, get experience?”
“Robinson—old mate from school—runs a small garage. Said he needs mechanics.”
“Ring him tomorrow. I’ll help till you’re on your feet.”
“Mum—”
“No arguments. I saved that money for you.”
He stood, hugging her tight.
“Thank you.”
“I’m your mother. Who else?”
Next morning, the phone woke her.
“Mum! Morning. Sleep well?”
“Daniel! Oh, I’m so glad you called.”
“Promised, didn’t I? Met with Robinson—going in today”We’ll see how it goes—and I’ll stop by yours tonight with the news.”
