No One Left to Talk To: A Story “Mum, what are you saying? How can you say you’ve got no one to talk to? I call you twice a day,” her daughter asked wearily. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant,” Nina Anderson sighed sadly. “I just don’t have any friends or acquaintances left who are my age. From my time.” “Mum, don’t talk nonsense. You still have your school friend Irene. And honestly, you’re so modern and you look much younger than you are. Oh, Mum, what’s wrong?” her daughter fretted. “You know Irene has asthma; when she talks on the phone she starts coughing. And she lives all the way on the other side of the city. There were three of us friends, remember I told you? But Mary’s been gone for a long time. Yesterday, Tanya from the flat next door popped in. I made her a cuppa—she’s a lovely woman, often drops by. She even brought over some buns she’d baked for her family. She told me about her children and grandchildren. She’s got grandchildren, even though she’s about fifteen years younger than me. But her childhood, her memories—they’re so different from mine. I just long for a chat with peers, people like me,” Nina Anderson explained, though she realised perfectly well that her daughter wouldn’t understand. She was still young. Her time wasn’t gone—it was just outside the window. She didn’t yet yearn for memories. Sveta was wonderful and caring; it wasn’t about her. “Mum, I got us tickets for a night of classic ballads on Tuesday. Remember you wanted to go? No more sulking—put on your burgundy dress, you look stunning in it!” “All right, darling, everything’s fine. I don’t know what came over me, good night, we’ll speak tomorrow. Go to bed early—you hardly get any sleep,” Nina changed the subject. “Yes, Mum, goodnight. Bye,” and Svetlana hung up. Nina Anderson gazed silently at the glittering evening lights outside… Year Eleven, also spring. So many plans. It seemed so recent. Her friend Irene fancied Simon Mallory from their class. But Simon liked Nina. He’d call her every evening, invite her out. But Nina thought of him as just a friend—why raise his hopes? Later Simon left for the army. He came back, married, lived in Irene’s old house. Back then everyone had a landline. The number… Nina Anderson dialled the number from memory. The tone didn’t come at once—then someone picked up, there was rustling and then a quiet man’s voice: “Hello, I’m listening.” Maybe it’s too late? Why did I call? Maybe Simon doesn’t even remember me, or maybe it’s not him at all! “Good evening,” Nina’s voice rasped a little with nerves. There was more static on the line, then suddenly she heard an astonished voice: “Nina? Is that really you? Of course it is. I’d know your voice anywhere. How did you find me? I’m only here by chance….” “Simon, you recognised me!” A wave of joyful memories swept over Nina Anderson. No one had called her by her name for ages—just “mum”, “granny”, or “Mrs Anderson”. Well, except Irene. But just “Nina” sounded so wonderful, so fresh—as if the years hadn’t passed at all. “Nina, how are you? I’m so glad to hear from you.” Those words made her ridiculously happy. She’d feared he wouldn’t recognise her, or her call would be out of place. “Do you remember Year Eleven? When Simon and Victor took you and Irene out in that rowing boat? He’d blistered his hands on the oars and tried to hide it. Then we ate ice cream on the riverside while the music played,” Simon’s voice was soft and wistful. “Of course I remember!” Nina laughed joyfully, “And that class camping trip? We couldn’t get the tins open, we were so hungry!” “Oh yes,” Simon chuckled, “Then Victor opened them and we sang songs by the campfire. Do you remember? After that, I decided to learn the guitar.” “And did you?” Nina’s voice rang with youthful delight at all these shared memories. It was like Simon was reviving their happy past, recalling detail after detail. “So, how are things now?” Simon asked, but immediately answered himself, “Actually, I can tell from your voice you’re happy. Children, grandchildren? You still writing poems? I remember: ‘To dissolve into the night and be reborn by morning!’ So full of hope! You always were like sunshine, Nina! You bring warmth to everyone, no one could be cold around you. Your family’s so lucky—to have a mum and granny like you is pure gold.” “Oh, come off it, Simon, I’m long past that. My time’s over, I—” He interrupted. “Come on, you give out so much energy I think my phone’s about to melt! Just kidding. I don’t believe you’ve lost your zest for life—not a bit. That means your time isn’t over yet, Nina. So live—and be happy. The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!” “Simon, you’re still such a romantic. What about you? I’m going on and on about myself…” But suddenly there was a crackle and the call cut out. Nina sat there, phone in hand. She wanted to ring back, but it was late—better not. Another time. What a wonderful chat they’d had—so many memories! The sudden ringtone made Nina jump. Her granddaughter. “Yes, Daisy, hello, I’m still up. What did Mum say? No, my mood’s fine. I’m going to a concert with Mum. Are you coming over tomorrow? Wonderful, see you then. Bye.” In an unexpectedly good mood, Nina Anderson went to bed, head full of plans. As she drifted off, she found herself composing lines for a new poem… In the morning, Nina decided to visit Irene. Just a few stops on the tram—she wasn’t a creaky old nag yet. Irene was delighted: “At last! You’ve been promising for ages. Ooh, is that an apricot tart? My favourite! Well, spill, what’s brought this on?” Irene coughed, pressing her hand to her chest, then waved Nina’s concern away. “It’s all right, new inhaler—I’m better. Come on, let’s have tea. Nina, you look younger somehow—come on, tell me!” “I don’t know—my fifth youth!” Nina laughed as she sliced the tart. “Yesterday I rang Simon Mallory by accident… remember your crush in Year Eleven? We got to reminiscing—I’d forgotten half of it. What’s up, Irene? Not another asthma attack?” Irene sat pale and silent, then whispered: “Nina, you didn’t know? Simon passed away a year ago. He lived in another part of town—he moved from that old place ages ago.” “You must be joking! How? Who was I talking to? He remembered everything about our school days. My mood was terrible before talking to him. But after we spoke, I felt life was carrying on—that I still had strength, and joy for living… How could it be?” Nina couldn’t believe Simon was gone. “But I heard his voice. He said such beautiful things: ‘The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!’” Irene shook her head, sceptical of her friend’s story. Then she surprised Nina by saying: “Nina, I don’t know how, but it really does sound like it was him. His words, his style. Simon loved you. I think he wanted to support you… from the other side. And it looks like he did. I haven’t seen you so happy and full of energy for ages. One day, someone will piece your tattered heart back together. And you’ll finally remember—what it feels like to be… simply happy.”

No one to even have a chat with. A Reminiscence

“Mother, honestly, what are you talking about? How can you say there’s no one for you to talk to? I call you twice a day,” her daughter replied wearily.

“Oh, no, darling Emily, I don’t mean that,” sighed Mrs. Nina Watson, “it’s just that I haven’t got any friends or acquaintances left who are my own age. From my time, you know.”

“Dont be silly, Mum. Youve got your school friend, Helen. And really, youre quite the modern woman you look far younger than your years. Oh, Mum, come on, whats really the matter?” Emily fretted.

“You know Helen has asthma she cant speak on the phone, starts coughing. And she lives all the way across town. There were three of us who were such close friends, Ive told you before. Well, Margarets been gone a long while now. Yesterday, Tanya from next door popped in. I offered her a cup of tea shes a lovely woman, comes by often. She nipped down to the bakers, brought some buns shed made for her lot. We chatted about her children, her grandchildren. She has grandkids herself, though shes at least fifteen years younger than me. But her memories of school and childhood are instantly different, not like mine.

What I crave, Emily, is a good old chinwag with someone my own age someone who remembers what I remember,” Nina Watson spoke into the receiver, but she knew her daughter wouldnt understand. Too young yet. Her world hasnt slipped away, its all there still, right outside her window. Shes not at that stage where youre drawn into the past. Emily was a good girl, so caring. It wasnt her fault.

“Mum, Ive got tickets for the Tuesday evenings song recital. Remember, you said you wanted to go? And stop being gloomy, will you? Put on that claret dress, you look stunning in it!”

“Alright, Emily, everythings fine, dont know whats come over me tonight. Goodnight, well talk tomorrow. You get off to bed early for once you never get enough sleep,” Nina steered the conversation away.

“Right, Mum, goodnight,” and Emily rang off.

Nina Watson sat quietly, watching the faint twinkle of the evening streetlamps from her window…

Year Eleven, also spring. So many plans, so much ahead. It seemed just yesterday. Her friend Helen had fancied Tom Marston from their form. But Tom well, he liked Nina. Hed phone her in the evenings, on the old home telephone, to ask her out for a walk. But to Nina, they were just friends she never gave him false hope.

Afterwards, Tom went off to do his National Service. Came back, got married. He lived in Helens old building. In those days, it was landlines for everyone. The number… On a sudden whim, Nina dialled the number which flashed unbidden into her mind. The ring seemed to last an age; finally, someone answered. There was a shuffling noise then a quiet male voice:

“Hallo, whos there?”

Perhaps it was too late in the evening? Why did I call him? Perhaps Tom doesnt even remember me or it could not be him at all!

“Good evening,” Nina managed, her voice trembling with nerves.

There was more rustling on the line, and then, to her astonishment, an excited voice:

“Nina? Is it really you? Of course it is. Id know your voice anywhere. How on earth did you find me? I answered by chance…”

“Tommy you recognised me!” A warm, joyful wave of memory washed over Nina. No one had called her by her name for ages only “Mum,” “Gran,” or “Mrs. Watson.” Only Helen sometimes remembered. But plain “Nina” how delightful, how fresh it felt, as if those long years had never passed.

“Nina, how have you been? Im honestly chuffed to hear you,” Tom said, and she was glad. Shed feared he mightnt know her, or think shed called at an awkward moment.

“And do you remember Year Eleven? When Vic Bradley and I took you and Helen out on the boating lake? He had blisters from the oars, tried to hide them. We went for ice cream on the promenade after; the band was playing” Toms voice grew dreamy and soft.

“Of course I remember,” Nina chuckled, happiness lighting up her face. “And that class camping trip? How we couldnt open the tins for supper, starving as we were!”

Tom laughed, “Yes! And Vic finally prised them open, then we all sang round the fire with someone playing the guitar, remember? I decided to learn after that.”

“And did you?” Ninas voice was vibrant again, revived by their reminiscing. Every detail Tom recalled shone brighter in her mind.

“And how are you really?” Tom asked, but ploughed on, “No, never mind I can tell from your voice youre happy. Kids? Grandkids? Still writing poetry, I suppose? I remember! Dissolve in the night, be born again at dawn! So uplifting!

You always were like a ray of sun, Nina. With you, life felt warmer your family must be blessed to have a mum and gran like you.”

“Oh stop it, Tom, too many compliments now! My times passed, you know…”

He interrupted:

“Now, dont you talk such nonsense. Theres so much energy coming down this line youre going to set the phone ablaze! Im serious, Nina I just cant believe you of all people would lose your zest. That means, surely, your times still here. So go on, Nina, live and rejoice. The sun is shining for you,

And the breeze blows the clouds across the sky for you,

And the birds are singing for you!”

“Youre still such a romantic but what about you? Ive gone on all about myself” She broke off, as the line suddenly crackled and then went dead.

Nina sat for a few moments holding the phone. She almost rang back, but it seemed a bit much so late at night. Another time, perhaps.

How wonderful it had been to talk to Tom, to recall so much… The sharp ring of the phone startled her from her reverie. Her granddaughter.

“Yes, Molly, hello, Im still awake. What did your mum say? No, I feel quite perky, really. Were going to the concert together. Youll stop by tomorrow? Wonderful, see you soon, love.”

With her heart full, Nina Watson went to bed. So many ideas were bubbling up in her mind. As she drifted off, new lines of poetry spun through her thoughts…

The next morning, Nina decided to visit her friend Helen. Just a few stops along the tram route she wasnt an old nag yet.

Helen was delighted. “Well, its about time, you promised ages ago! Oh, is that an apricot tart from the patisserie? My favourite! Come on then, spill ” Helen coughed sharply, pressing her hand to her chest. Then, with a wave, “Im fine, got a new inhaler; Im much better. Come drink your tea. Nina, you look younger, whats your secret?”

“I dont know on my fifth youth, perhaps,” Nina laughed, slicing the tart. “Yesterday, by pure chance, I rang up Tom Marston. Remember, your sweetheart in Year Eleven? He started reminiscing jogged my memory for a lot Id forgotten. Youve gone quiet, Helen… Is something wrong?”

Helen sat pale, staring at her friend. In a whisper she said, “Nina, you didnt know? Tom passed away a year ago. And he hadnt lived in that flat for ages. Moved across town.

You must be mistaken. Or perhaps it was a different Tom?”

“What? Are you sure? But we talked about so many memories from our youth. I felt so down before the call and after, I realised theres still life ahead, strength and happiness to be found. But how could that be?” Nina was confused.

“But it was his voice, Helen, I know it. He said and it was so lovely The sun is shining for you. The breeze blows the clouds for you. The birds are singing for you!”

Helen slowly shook her head, clearly unsure what to believe. Suddenly she said, “Nina, I dont know how to explain it, but maybe it really was Tom it sounded just like him, his sort of words. He cared for you, Nina. Perhaps, somehow, he wanted to lift your spirits, even… from the other side. And I think he managed it. You havent looked so bright and full of life for years.

Someday, someone will gather up all the scattered pieces of your well-loved heart. And at last, youll remember you are truly happy.