George rested his furry chin on her shoulder.
The poor old chap had outlived his ‘sell by’ date, too. A ripe old ten and a half. Positively ancient for a Wolfhound.
A wash of looming grief doused the flames of excitement. She and Captain George were living on borrowed time. Not Stu, though. His parents had both lived well into their nineties. Died within days of one another, peacefully, in their sleep. Stu had years of puzzle pages ahead of him. Decades.
She gave George a final kiss then climbed into bed, determined to wake up without worrying about when she was going to die. She’d pop in to the call centre tomorrow on the way to Halfords. Invent an excuse about trying to find a misplaced jumper in lost property. Accidentally on purpose arrive at break time and have an inspiring chat with Raven and Sue, to ensure they would join her. (Yes, she’d taken a picture of the schedule before she’d left so she knew when they were on next. Mischievous, she knew, but she wasn’t going to let Rachel Woolly get one over her.) Once they were on board, she’d pop into that lovely little shop down the village and get herself a proper bicycle and any other accoutrements she might need. She gave Stu a pat on the shoulder then turned off her bedside lamp. She’d not sleep for a while yet, but she had too much to think about to read. Ready or not, Flo was going to ride her bicycle across the country.
Incident No: 38928901
Time of Call: 02:43
Call Handler: SUE YOUNG
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: I just … I was wondering if you were free for a minute?
Call Handler: May I have your name please?
Caller: My name’s Becky.
Call Handler: Hello, Becky. My name’s Sue. Can you tell me why you’re calling tonight?
Caller: Oh, god, I …
Call Handler: Are you hurt, Becky?
Caller: No. Not unless you count loneliness.
Call Handler: Oh, well, I – you know we do, Becky. We do count loneliness.
Caller: You do? Can you send a doctor?
Call Handler: Are you registered with a local GP?
Caller: Yes. [Muffled swearing] Forget it. You’re the same as everyone else. A jobsworth. Don’t worry. You won’t be able to do anything. Just like the rest of them.
Call Handler: No, Becky, wait. Let’s talk for a minute.
Caller: What?
Call Handler: I mean, I can recommend some numbers, where there will be trained people who can talk …
Caller: [Bitter laugh] Like I said. You’re a jobsworth. What makes you think ringing anyone else will make a difference?
Call Handler: It could. You don’t know until you try …
Caller: I’ve tried it all love, believe me. And just so we’re clear? I was trying to score. Not to talk. So well done for not succumbing to the ploys of your local crack addict.
Call Handler: I – sorry – hello? Has anyone ever—? She was trying to get drugs. Do you think she mean to ring someone else? Ooop—
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kath would never admit it, but she was absolutely terrified.
‘Thirty seconds.’
Her producer gave her a grim nod. Things were not going according to plan.
Kath mouthed ‘ready?’ to Fola.
He nodded. This meant as much, if not more, to him as it did to her. ‘Alright, lads.’ His deep voice rang out over the higher pitches of his young football team. ‘Everybody gather round and zip it until you’re asked a question, yeah?’ Astonishingly, the dozen or so jumble of twelve-year-old boys did exactly as they were told. The thirty or so who’d gathered to watch proceedings did not.
Through her earpiece, Kath heard Kev wrapping up his piece on keeping your figure on an all-you-can-eat cruise. ‘Note to self … avoid the deep-fried Mars bars!’ Kev har-har-har’ed, no doubt sharing a fist bump with the perky fitness trainer sitting in her spot on the couch. His voice turned serious. ‘But tell me, Kylie. If that dessert bar is too tempting to resist, what can our viewers do to make sure they fit into their bikini the next morning by the pool? I know I like to have my cake and be poolside ready, too.’
Oh, good grief. He was flirting. You give a man an inch …
Kev loved days like this. Being on his own in the studio. Said it made him feel like the all-powerful Oz. So much so, it sometimes made her wonder why he hadn’t tried to wheedle her into retirement rather than plastic surgery. Get someone young and perky like Holly Willoughby to bounce around the studio and give the set that extra zing he was after.
Something in her hardened.
He wanted zing?
She’d give him zing.
‘Ten seconds and we’re ready for you, Kath.’
It suddenly struck her as odd that Kev had agreed to this segment so easily. It wasn’t in the Brand New Day remit at all. Normally he would’ve savaged it at the pitch meeting and yet, when she’d put it forward a few days back, he hadn’t put up the slightest bit of a fight.
Kev needed her. That was why. Needed her for the all-important female demographic. The married female demographic. Besides, there was no one else idiotic enough to put up with his self-aggrandising, sexist shenanigans but her. She popped on her camera-ready smile.
The producer cued her that they were five seconds out.
‘Everyone ready?’ She beamed at the camera crew, most of whom had been giving her the evils all morning. A playing field at one of Birmingham’s poorest schools wasn’t really their thing. She
