Outside the window it’s getting dark, and still, Mum isn’t back. Chloe, twisting the wheels on her wheelchair, rolled over to the table, grabbed the phone, and dialled Mum’s number. “The person you are calling is unavailable,” said a strange automated voice. The girl stared blankly at the phone, then remembered it had hardly any credit left and switched it off.
Mum had gone to the supermarket and hadn’t come back. That never happened; she never stayed out long, because her daughter was disabled from birth and couldn’t walk. She got around in a wheelchair, and besides Mum, there were no other relatives. Chloe was seven now and wasn’t scared of being home alone, but Mum always said where she was going and when she’d be back. The girl couldn’t understand what was wrong:
“She went to that big supermarket outside town today, the one where things are cheaper. We go there often. It’s not even that far, really – you could walk there and back in an hour,” she glanced at the clock. “It’s been four hours already. I’m starving.”
She wheeled into the kitchen. Switched the kettle on, got a pork pie out of the fridge. Ate it, had some tea.
Still no Mum. She couldn’t stand it, grabbed the phone again and dialled:
“The person you are calling is unavailable,” the automatic voice repeated.
She shifted onto her bed, tucking the phone under her pillow. She didn’t switch the light off either; it was so scary without Mum.
She lay there a long time, but eventually fell asleep.
***
She woke when sunlight peeked through the window. Mum’s bed was neatly made.
“Mum!” she yelled towards the hallway.
Silence answered. She picked up the phone, called again. The same strange, metallic voice replied. Fear washed over her, tears spilling down her cheeks.
***
Benjamin was walking back from the bakery café. They sold fresh pastries there every morning. It was their ritual with his Mum; she’d make breakfast while he popped out for the buns. Benjamin was thirty now, but he’d never married. Girls and women just never seemed interested; he was plain, thin, sickly looking. Illnesses had plagued him since birth. He’d needed expensive treatments, but Mum had raised him alone. The final diagnosis came when he was grown-up, telling him he couldn’t have children. He’d made his peace with never marrying. Something glinted in the grass by the kerbside – a crushed, old mobile. Phones and computers were both his passion and his job; he was a programmer and blogger. He had fancy mobiles, sure, but pure professional curiosity made him pick this one up. The phone was shattered, as if a car had run over it and kicked it aside. “Wonder what happened?” The thought flickered as he shoved the broken thing in his pocket. “Sort it at home.”
***
After breakfast, he slid the SIM card from the found phone into one of his own. The numbers saved were mostly for the NHS, the pension service, and places like that. But the first contact was saved as ‘Daughter’. He hesitated, then dialled the number.
“Mum!” came a relieved child’s voice.
“It’s… It’s not Mum,” Benjamin stammered, flustered.
“Where’s Mummy?”
“I don’t know. I found a broken phone, put its SIM in mine, and called. Are you okay?”
“My Mum’s gone,” the voice broke into sobs. “She went to the supermarket yesterday and never came back.”
“What about your Dad? Your Nan?”
“Haven’t got a Dad or a Nan. Just Mum.”
“What’s your name?” Benjamin knew he had to help. “Chloe.”
“I’m Benjamin. Chloe, go outside and tell a neighbour you’re alone.”
“I can’t go out. My legs don’t work. And no one lives next door.”
“Hold on, ‘don’t work’?” Benjamin was totally lost.
“I was born like this. Mum says we need to save up some money and then I can have an operation.”
“How do you get around?”
“In my wheelchair.”
“Chloe, do you know your address?” Benjamin switched to action mode.
“Yes. 7 Church Street, flat eighteen.”
“I’m coming over right now. We’ll find your Mum.” He hung up.
Margaret came into her son’s room: “Ben? What’s happened?”
“Mum, I found a broken phone. Put its SIM in mine. Called the number. Well, there’s a little girl, all alone in her flat, and she’s disabled. No other family. I got her address. Have to go.”
“We’ll go together,” the woman said, already reaching for her coat. Margaret had raised her often-ill son single-handedly; she knew exactly what it was like for a lone parent with a poorly child. She was retired now, but her son earned very good money. They called a taxi and set off to help.
***
They buzzed the intercom. “Who is it?” came a small, sad voice.
“Chloe? It’s Benjamin.”
“Come up!”
They entered the building. The door to the flat was already slightly ajar. Inside, a thin girl in a wheelchair watched them with sad eyes.
“Will you find my Mummy?”
“What’s your Mum’s name?” Benjamin asked quickly.
“Emily.”
“Surname?”
“Smith.”
“Hold on, Ben!” his mother stopped him, turning to the girl. “Chloe, are you hungry?”
“Yes. There was a pork pie in the fridge, but I ate it yesterday.”
“Right, Ben, dash to our regular Sainsbury’s, get what we usually do.” “On it!” he said, rushing out the door.
***
When he got back, his Mum had already started something on the hob. She quickly unpacked the bags and laid the table. After they’d eaten, Benjamin started searching for the girl’s Mum. He opened the local news site and scanned yesterday’s incidents.
“Right, right. On Park Street… Driver of a Fiat hit a woman. Victim taken to hospital in critical condition.”
He got his phone out, dialling the hospital. On the third ring, someone answered.
“Yes, we admitted a victim from Park Street yesterday. Critical. Still unconscious.”
“What’s her surname?”
“No ID or mobile found on her. Are you family?”
“Um… not sure yet…”
“Come to…”
“Know the address. On my way.” He hung up and knelt by Chloe’s wheelchair. “Got a photo of your Mum?”
“Yes,” she wheeled to the cabinet and pulled out an album. “Here, we got this taken recently.”
“Your Mum’s beautiful!” Benjamin took a photo with his phone, giving Chloe a reassuring smile. “Right, off to find her.” He left.
***
She opened her eyes. White ceiling. Consciousness slowly returned. Memory flashed: a car speeding towards her… She tried to move; pain shot through her whole body. A nurse approached, speaking softly:
“Awake?”
Suddenly Emily’s eyes widened in terror: “How long have I been here
and choked out, “Nurse, my daughter Chloe—is she safe?” as the nurse gently squeezed her hand and assured her, “She’s with Ben and his mum, love, safe and sound. They’ve been taking wonderful care of her.”
