Incident No: 627428
Time of Call: 07:27
Call Handler: SUE YOUNG
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: I’m calling about my daughter.
Call Handler: Can you tell me your daughter’s name please?
Caller: It’s Lily Vestry.
Call Handler: Lily? That’s a lovely name. May I have your—
Caller: Rebecca Hattersby. It’s my maiden name.
Call Handler: Very good. And can you please let me know why you’re calling about Lily today?
Caller: She’s got flu. She’s in a wheelchair and has got very special health needs. I have to get to work in an hour, her father’s not answering the phone and her carer’s going to be late, so can you send a doctor over, please? I’m a bit worried about her temperature and I’ve not got the time to bring her to the A&E.
Call Handler: Alright.
Caller: Oh, thank god.
Call Handler: No. Sorry, I’m just trying to find … Have you tried contacting your G—
Caller: No. We’re well past that. Look. Lily’s GP isn’t all that helpful as her needs are so specialised, but yes, I’ve gone through the paces. I know the drill. Hang on, darling. I’m just on the phone. Have some of your ice chips, yeah? Look. Sue, was it? I’ve been through this drill before, love. I’ve tried calling the GP. They’re closed. I’ve tried calling her useless father. He isn’t answering. I’ve tried calling the hospital. They suggested keeping Lily at home as they’ve got norovirus concerns. I’ve tried calling everyone apart from an ambulance which I’m fairly certain she doesn’t require, not yet anyway, which is why I’m on the phone with you, hoping you have a brain in your head and aren’t relying on that bloody script they supply you with because all I need is for you to send a doctor over, alright?
Call Handler: Right. Okay, well, if we could just run through—
Caller: Please let’s not go through this charade, Sue. I need you to send a doctor over.
Call Handler: Can you describe her symptoms please?
Caller: Coughing, congestion, fatigue, chills, fever, aches and pain.
Call Handler: Okay. Hang on just a minute while I—
Caller: Please just send the doctor. I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m not trying to ruin your day. I sound rude because I haven’t slept properly in over a week. Years really. I simply need a doctor to come to my house to take a look at my disabled child before I head off to work so that I’m not panicked she is going to die while I’m away trying to pay for the roof over our heads and the food on our table.
Call Handler: I’ll organise a doctor straight away.
Caller: Thank you.
Call Handler: Rebecca?
Caller: [Heavy sigh] Yes, love.
Call Handler: I hope she feels better soon.
Caller: Thank you, love. [Sobbing noise] Oh, god. Shit. Sorry. Thank you for listening. You don’t know how rare it is. You’ve actually made my day.
Call Handler: You’re welcome. Do call back if you need anything or her symptoms worsen.
Caller: I will, love. Believe me. I will.
Call Handler: Thank you for calling 111. [Sound of nose being blown] [Call ends] Rachel, sorry? Is it alright if I—? Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Something in my eye is all. I won’t be a min—
Chapter Thirty-One
Tactics. That’s what this situation required. Tactics.
Flo gave Stu’s shoulders a rub. ‘Alright, darling?’
He gave his hmmmnnn noise which meant he was properly engrossed in his puzzles.
Perfect.
‘So, I won’t be heading into work today.’
‘Oh?’
‘No. Not today.’
Hmmnnn.
‘I’m off shift for a while now.’
‘Very good. Good. Hmmnnn.’
There. That was done. Easy peasy.
Right.
Step two.
‘What do you think of this, Stu?’ Flo brandished her wrist in front of him with a flourish. It was weighted more heavily than it had been during her Fitbit days.
‘Oh! You’ve got yourself a watch, have you? Snazzy.’
Flo rolled her eyes in irritation. It mightn’t look like one of those great lunking things the lads who trained for triathlons and Iron Man contests wore, but it was, according to Cycling Magazine, the business. GPS, Wi-Fi, ANT+, whatever that was. It was a proper bells and whistles number. She’d ordered it from Amazon two days back after coming home from Sue and Raven’s. She’d been so happy that night. Helping the two of them get all set up in Sue’s cosy little home. So full of hope. Possibility. Oh, she knew everything wouldn’t be roses and rainbows, not with all of that baggage in tow, but Raven had looked less terrified than when Flo had first shooed her out of the car and Sue hadn’t collapsed into a sobbing ball of grief when they’d found that mountain of unpaid bills. Not that it would’ve been a bad thing (better out than in), it just may have made things a bit trickier for Raven.
Saying that, Raven had a few surprising tricks up her sleeve. Volunteering, as she had, to help Sue with going through the papers. It might be easier that way. Having someone emotionally uninvolved work through what looked to be an Everest worth of discovery. Poor lass. In all fairness, if Stu were to drop dead on the back of plundering their life savings on, oh, a golf club pyramid scheme, say (he’d never do that, he was far too practical, but this was all hypothetical, so …), the last people on earth she’d want helping was family. All of that tutting and clucking her daughter was perfecting at far too young an age. So disapproving for someone with so much life ahead of her. Perhaps Jennifer might like to join her—No. She checked the thought. Jennifer’s life ran on year planners. Spontaneity didn’t factor in. It was one of their ‘issues’, according to Jennifer. A divergence of life approaches.
She smiled at her watch, brushing her finger over the shiny white face, its features waiting to be taken advantage of. Each of them awash with possibility. Activity-tracking
