A Chance Phone Call
Is this Paul Johnson? The voice on the other end was as frosty and formal as a tax inspector.
Yes, I am Paul Johnson. Who am I speaking to?
This is the manager of the Little Ones Care Home. Your daughters turning three next week and well have to transfer her to another institution. Are you sure youre not picking her up?
Wait, what little one? Whose daughter? Ive got a son, little Harry Im mumbling in shock.
Hope Pauline Simms. Isnt she your daughter?
N-no, not mine. Im Johnson. Paul Johnson.
Apologies, the voice sighed wearily. Seems theres been a mix up.
A second later, the dial tone blared in my ear like a fire alarm.
What on earth?! I fumed. A daughter, a little one, can you believe it! Whats going on with their paperwork?!
But the call stuck in my chest like a stubborn splinter. I started thinking about those children living without a warm home, caring parents, or doting grandparents. Harry had all of that, plus aunts and uncles galore.
Ella noticed my distracted answers straight away. Nothing escapes a sharp-eyed wife you’ve known since primary school and lived with for nearly ten years.
She waited until dinner before asking outright what was going on.
What’s her name? she said.
Whose? I replied, baffled (how did she know about a girl? Maybe she got a call too?).
Hope, I said. Hope.
Oh, Hope, is it Im your Ella, and shes Hope?! Ellas voice rose.
Yes, I said. Hope Pauline Simms.
Why dont you give me her passport number while youre at it! Ella shouted.
She doesnt have a passport, why would she?
Is she a refugee then? my beloved howled, lowering her volume marginally.
Whos a refugee? Now I was completely lost.
Your Hopes a refugee? Wants to get residence, does she? Come on, confess!
What should I confess? I sat there, utterly gobsmacked, dinner forgotten.
And then Ella started to cry. Not dramatically, not theatrically, just angry tears rolling like peas onto her apron.
Im off to my mums tomorrow. And dont think youre keeping Harry! she said through her tears.
Ella, whats happened to you? Why your mum?
Did you think Id stick around to play servant to you and your mistress, Hope?! she shrieked.
Slowly, the absurdity started to dawn on me.
I took Ella by the shoulders, sat her on the kitchen bench, and told her everything about the mornings phone call.
Now Ella cried for Hope tears of pity, apparently endless in supply in women. Honestly, women cry for anything! And Ellas tears, especially, I cant stand. They scare me.
After all that upheaval, Id lost my appetite and just picked at my food.
I woke up to find Ella searching through my phone! In nearly ten years together, shed never done that. Clearly, she didnt believe me, was hunting for traces of illicit texts. That stung. Really stung.
She murmured, Paul Paul and nudged me gently.
I played asleep.
Paul, this number that called you, it’s the landline, right?
Yes, automatically.
Go back to sleep. Ella left the bedroom, taking my phone.
Easy for her to say sleep! Fat chance. I heard the computer fire up. I lay there a bit more, then snuck into the living room.
Ella was so absorbed in moving the mouse that she didnt notice me.
In the search bar: Little Ones Care Home and our town.
The computer churned, then spat out the official site: address, telephone and even a photo of the building. Ella checked my phone.
Paul, its a match!
What is?
The phone number! It matches theirs!
Thats what I said. So youre checking up on me?
Ella spun in her chair.
Not checking clarifying.
Why??
Paul, the place isnt far at all, she mused, ignoring me.
Shall we go there? How did they even get your number if youre a complete stranger?
I hadnt thought of that. Really, how? Maybe we should pop over and clear things up. Otherwise, random children will keep getting assigned to me and Ill be left sorting them out!
Sleep was impossible that night. Just as I was nearly drifting off, Ella poked me in the ribs.
Paul Paul
What now?
Are you absolutely sure there wasnt you know a little fling, maybe? With your first love, for instance. You met her again after all these years, sparks flew, maybe she didnt tell you anything, just left the girl at the hospital. Eh? Paul? Paul!
Ella, honestly! Once I sat next to you in Year One, thats how its been ever since! Four years ago, remember, Harry was turning three, started nursery, always ill, you went back to work, who was at home with him? Me! Had to work from homeremember? Endless medicine, strict meal plans, constant doctor visits. Mistresses? I was barely standing, fell asleep before my head hit the pillow! Never had anyone else, not then, not ever.
Then how did your number get there? Someone must have left it!
Even I couldnt shake that question. I mentally ran through every possibility all the girls Id ever met, just in case. Nothing ever happened with any of them. But knowing their mischievous flair, who knows?
But they were all off the list: some got married, some had their mums minding the kids, the most dramatic one left the country five years back.
But life has a knack for throwing up impossible situations, so I made a decision tomorrow wed visit that Care Home.
We arrived early but werent first. By the directors door sat a scruffy little fellow, pale hair, just barely holding some papers, hands shaking a bit nerves or hangover, your guess is as good as mine.
After me, he boomed unexpectedly.
Then the door opened and he was invited in. For fifteen minutes, a steady voice was punctuated by bassy protests.
Finally, the man emerged, tousled, now empty-handed, and we were called in.
Good morning, a pleasant brunette of indeterminate age stood by the window, nibbling her glasses. Your business?
Were here about yesterday, I quipped.
She sat at her desk.
I havent got time for guessing games. Please state your problem clearly and briefly.
I reminded her about the call (the voice was unmistakable).
Ah, right she smiled tiredly. Im sorry, it was a mistake. We called the wrong person.
How wrong, when youve got my number? Where did you get it?
You see, Paul Johnson, I misdialed. The number shouldve started 020, but I dialed 030. The fact you’re Paul Johnson too pure coincidence. He was in before you.
Who? I asked, though I already knew.
Paul Johnson Simms, the girls father.
So I apologise again and must ask you to leave. I have lots to do.
The badge on her desk read Theresa Simmons, Care Home Manager.
Ella clearly saw it too, because she asked:
Miss Simmons, will that Paul Johnson take the girl?
The manager looked at us and sat down again.
No, he wont. The girls mum passed away and Paul Johnson has seven kids by different women. In three years, hes only visited twice, and only because we pressured him. Hope means nothing to him. Any more questions? If not, goodbye.
We left, stunned by all this.
The older children were outside playing: one swinging, another sliding, two boys racing matchbox cars on a bench.
As I watched, it dawned on me what was wrong.
It was too quiet. Bring Harry out and its instant mayhem shouting, shrieking, proper hullabaloo. These children didnt make a racket. They never laughed out loud, just quietly chatted. Tiny old souls, these kids had become adults straight away. No childhood just survival: cold, hunger, no toys or clothes, adults indifferent or sometimes cruel.
I glanced at Ella. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Again with the tears! Prepared for anything.
We ambled to the gate and suddenly, a cry shattered the silence: Mummy!. Every child turned. A little girl in a silly bobble hat charged toward us.
Mummy, Mummy! she shouted. Im here!!!
She flung herself at Ellas legs and sobbed, heartbreakingly, so much that I had tears in my own eyes.
Hope, Hope! a carer hurried down the path. She tried to lift the girl, but Hope squirmed and clung fiercely to Ellas leg.
A chocolate bar sorted things out, and we practically sprinted from the care home.
In the car, silence reigned. Ella visibly shook, and I felt just as rattled. My hands trembled, so I pulled over to regroup.
Ella pointed to a nearby shop with her eyes.
Without a word, in complete harmony, we walked hand in hand to Toys R Us.
For a doll and a pink dress.
Our Hope will be the prettiest little girl there is!
