The Final Call

The Final Call

From the moment I woke up, an odd foreboding hung over meas if something was bound to happen.

Something unpleasant

Naturally, I rang Mum right away, but Angela reassured me everything was fine:

My blood pressures spot on, I dont feel faint or dizzy. Whats got into you?

Oh, nothing reallyjust checking in I replied, trying to sound casual. Alright, I ought to get ready for work. But if you need me, ring straight away, alright?

Of course.

Youd think speaking with Mum would have eased my nerves, but even after I put the phone down, the feeling gnawed at me.

I couldnt work out what was behind it. There was no clear reason to worry. Then again, with my job, anything could happen. Especially today, Mondaythe day everyone dreads.

I sipped the rest of my tea, glanced at the clock (half six), pulled on my uniform and coat, grabbed a quick snack, and set out for work.

*****

Down at the ambulance depot, I spotted my driver for the shift, Mick. When he saw me, he beamed and gave a cheery wave, to which I managed only a tired nod.

Emma, you look like thunder today, he said with a lopsided grin, lighting his cigarette. Something up?

Not exactly, Mick. Not yet, anyway. Just a feeling. My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. Something’s going to happen, I just know it.

Oh, dont say thatwhats put such ideas in your head this early, eh? Had a bad nights sleep or what?

I said nothing, looking up at the sky. The clouds hung in a heavy English drape, threatening rain at any moment.

And Ive never liked the rainnot since I was little.

So maybe its just the weather making me anxious? I told myself. Maybe this isnt a premonition at all, just a mood.

I let the thought warm me for a heartbeat, even smiled. But the feeling returned, unsettled and cold.

Have a good shift! piped up a young woman who darted past us.

Mick choked on his smoke and, when hed composed himself, shot her a mock-glare, raising a fist. She looked genuinely stricken.

Oh crikey, sorryI shouldnt have said that, she stammered, flushed with guilt.

She was new, only started last week as a paramedic. Still hadnt learnedwishing the crew a good shift before they went out was considered terribly unlucky.

Great, now something really is bound to happen, I muttered, feeling goosebumps.

Dont tempt fate, Mick grumbled, stubbing out his cigarette.

*****

Every time the dispatcher assigned us a new call on our tablet, my nerves were stretched thin.

Man, thirty-five, severe headache, can barely talkpossible stroke, came the next shout through the radio.

Just what I needed, I thought, sighing inwardly. Were trained for this, of coursewe have to be. But

Every call got under my skin. The ones with tragic endings always knocked me sideways, and a stroke made that a real risk. Especially today.

But as it turned out, the bloke wasnt having a stroke at all.

His speech was slurred because hed spent the night celebrating a mates birthday, and his head was pounding from a hangover. I gave him a couple of paracetamol and told him to get some rest.

What about a pintwould that help? he asked, hopeful.

Definitely not! Itll only make matters worse. If you want a long and happy life, best give the drink a miss now and then.

As I left, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe Micks right, and this ominous feeling is just old-fashioned burnout, I reasoned. Nothing supernatural about being exhausted.

But just as I started to calm down, the dispatcher called againthis time sending us to the cemetery.

To where? Mick asked, incredulous.

The cemetery, I echoed, fingers gripping the tablet.

A well-known local performer was being buried there today (though Id never heard of him, odd as that seemed). The place was heaving with mourners.

People stood quietly, heads bowed, some weeping, others sharing memories. Throughout, I kept expecting the other shoe to drop. Mick fidgeted and smoked in silence.

But nothing happenednobody needed us. The rest of the day was not much different: the usual round of calls.

And, just like that, twelve hours flew by; it was almost time to head back to the depot.

Ten minutes more, I told myself. Then I could be home, showered, and straight into bed. Maybe tomorrow this heaviness would lift.

Just in case, I called Mum againmy tenth time that day.

All fine, darling, Angela said. Just making some supper before I watch telly.

Hows Mum? Mick asked, once I pocketed my mobile.

Shes alright.

There you go! he grinned. Told younothings going to happen today, not really. Youd talked yourself into a state.

The worrys still there, Mick. I cant help itits just something I cant quite put my finger on.

You know what you need? A pettheyre brilliant for stress, he declared.

Youre joking?

Not a bit of it! Ive got a cat, Chester. Whenever Im home, he jumps in my lap and purrs his head off. Drives all the days worries awayhelps me sleep like a log.

With my schedule? I live alone, Mick. Whod look after it when Im working twelve-hour shifts? Youve got a familykids, a wife. Its different.

I wanted to say more, but just then the tablet pinged and the dispatchers voice returned:

Emma, sorry love, youre not quite doneone last call. 23 Churchill Street. Flat let me check

Flat forty-eight?

Thats right, replied the dispatcher, surprised. How did you know?

Old Mr Campbell lives there. He calls more than anyonewhats up, heart trouble again?

I heard a long, weary sigh from the other end, and then my heart dropped.

Hes passed, Emma. Sometime this morning. Police are on sitewe need you there for the paperwork, you know how it is

I know I answered quietly.

My hands shook as I set the tablet on my lap, glancing at Mick whod heard everything.

He put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Poor old Campbell. From what youve told me, he was a good man. But listenyoure not to blame. He wouldnt go to hospital. Never saw the GP, right? Dont take this on yourself, understand?

Yeah

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and drifted off into my thoughts.

*****

Id met Mr Campbell a month and a half ago. He called for an ambulance, worried about a sharp pain in his chest.

Doorll be open, just come in, the dispatcher relayed.

When I crossed his threshold, a little puppy greeted me in the hallwaybarely bigger than my hand.

He bristled defensively at first, barking his little head off. It was only when Mr Campbell called that the puppy scampered to him, tail wagging.

Found him on the streetbrought him in, the old man said, attempting to rise. Now he thinks hes my guard dog.

Stay there, please, I urged. He is lovelyId have a pup myself, if I could.

Why cant you?

Long story. Never mind, lets talk about youwhen did the pain start, have you seen a doctor?

He answered everything. His heart trouble started after his wife died the previous year. Hed gone to the surgery, but nothing really helped.

Its worse in those waiting room queues. The pain comes and goessometimes its nothing at all.

Could you describe it?

Nothing to describe. It hurts, then it stops. Sometimes a heart tablet helps

Neither of those are treatment, I laughed softly. Lets do an ECG, just in case.

Sure enough, it was abnormal. I urged him to let us take him in, but he flat refused.

Whod look after the pup? Give me something for the pain instead.

I can, but its not enoughyou really should come with me.

All the others before you did just finegave me a jab or a tablet. Im still here, arent I? Ill sign a waiver if you like.

I couldnt change his mindnot that time, nor on the times after. Somehow, I always seemed to be the one answering his calls, which came about once a week.

He swore the pain had never used to be this badbut now it wouldnt let go.

Its because its getting worse, Mr Campbell. You need proper treatment, I would plead, but hed only stroke his puppys head and shake his head.

Theres no one else for him. If I pop my clogs, someone kind will take him in. My neighbours promised to check on him if anything happens. I even showed her where I keep some cash for food.

Why cash?

How else is she to buy food for him? Theres always folk cant take on a stray because of the cost.

He really was a good man.

And now, I was to see him one last timethis time without any chance to talk, to comfort, or to persuade. The last call really was the last.

And, despite what Mick said, I couldnt shake the guilt. I should have done more. Convinced him to get proper care.

Em, were here.

What? I barely heard Mick as he touched my shoulder.

Were here.

Legs heavy as lead, I trudged up to the third floor. Inside Mr Campbells flat were the neighbourhood officer and the neighbour, Mrs Evans, whom Id met before, once when Mr Campbell fell ill on the street and shed rung for us.

Hello Emma, she greeted softly.

Evening, Mrs Evans, I murmured. It was you who called the police?

Yes, well, someone had to. That puppy of his wouldnt stop barking this morning. I did think it odd, him not taking the dog out. Thought maybe he was feeling low. I went off to my allotment, and when I got back this evening, the barking was worse, so I called the police. They came with the maintenance chap and got the door open. Found him in there. She waved toward the bedroom.

Thank you.

I walked quietly to the bedroom, fighting back tears, and filled out the required forms. Then, something nagged at meI glanced around the flat, checked the kitchen, the bathroom, even the small balcony.

Sorry, but are you looking for something? the officer asked, following my movements.

The puppyhe must be here somewhere. Have you seen him?

A little black chap, isnt he? Yes, he was about, making a racket, darting underfoot. The neighbour took him, I think.

Thank goodness, I sighed.

It would have broken Mr Campbells heart for that tiny creature to end up on the streets.

I left the flat and, on a whim, went to knock at Mrs Evans doorshed left earlier, mentioning things to attend to.

Oh! Emma. Is everything alright? she asked, surprised.

I just wanted to thank you for taking in the puppy. Is he coping?

Who?

The puppyyou do have him, dont you?

Oh, him? No, hes not here. Why would I keep him?

The officer said you had.

Well, yes, but I just let him out for a run. He was making such a fuss, and my head was splitting, I thought hed be happier outsideno point keeping him inside now, his owners gone.

You let him back on the street?

I didnt throw him outI merely let him roam. He can look after himself, or someone kind will take him in.

But Mr Campbell said he arranged with you, and even showed you where money was kept for food.

For a moment, Mrs Evans looked stricken, then turned cold.

He told you that? Well, I know nothing about it. Now, if youll excuse me, I have things to do. That dog will copetheres always kind souls around.

*****

I hurried downstairs and outside. By now, an English drizzle had set infine but persistent, soon ricocheting into heavier drops.

Emma! Youll catch your deathget in the car! Mick called from across the road.

I left the medicine kit in his car but closed the door again, not getting in.

What on earth, Em? Mick came round, confused.

Mick, you head back to the depot. My shifts over, but I need to find that puppy.

What puppy?

So I explained the whole story, as quickly as I could. Mick lit another cigarette, listening in silence.

He cant have gone far. Hes got to be nearby. Please, you goIll look for him myself.

He ground out his cigarette and shook his head.

Not a chance. Im not leaving you here, not when its getting dark. Well look together.

But you cant just abandon the ambulance.

No one will ever know, he shrugged, winking. Come on, Emma, whats the worst that could happen tonight?

We searched the courtyard and nearby streets for ten minutes. Even the police officer joined us.

Got him! Mick shouted finally, and I ran over, relief surging.

Underneath a bench, opposite Mr Campbells old block, was the puppysmall, dark, trembling, baring his teeth at Mick.

Little rascalhed rather see me off than say thanks, grumbled Mick, but fondly.

Lucky, my dear! Tears pricked my eyes and merged with the rain on my cheeks. Do you remember me?

He didhe slunk towards me, whimpering softly, eyes wide and lost.

I know, sweetheart. Mr Campbells gone. Hes not coming back.

Mick turned away discreetly to wipe his cheek. The officer tilted his head skyward in silence.

I cant replace your owner, I whispered, but Ill do my best. Will you come with me, Lucky?

And he did.

He knew I meant well. Besides, neither of us liked the rain much.

*****

At first, I was beset by doubts. How would I manage? But Mum came to the rescueas always.

When I was on nights, she popped over, fed Lucky, and took him out for walks.

On my days off, the three of us went to the parkMum, me, and my scruffy puppy.

Not for one second have I regretted taking in that unwanted little dog. Life finally feels full of purpose. I even understand Mr Campbell a bit moreeven if, as a medic, I still wish hed accepted help.

In time, our little circle even grew by one moreour local police officer, Tom, whod helped us search for Lucky that rainy evening. Back then, I couldnt imagine anything starting amidst such sadness, but sometimes life is strange.

When Tom came round with flowers, Lucky gave him a sniff, then barked once in approval, as if to say the newcomer could stay.

And with that, at long last, happiness slipped quietly injust when Id stopped believing it would ever come.