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No One to Really Talk To: A Story of Old Friends, Long-Lost Numbers, and a Conversation That Changed Everything
Honestly, Mum, how can you say youve got no one to talk to? sighed her daughter, the exhaustion plain in her voice. I call you twice a day!
Oh no, darling, Im not talking about that, Nina Barton replied with a weary sigh. Its just Ive got no friends left now, no one my age. No one from my time.
Mum, dont be silly, her daughterCharlottereplied, sounding a little upset. Youve still got your old schoolfriendMary! And youre so with it, Mum, you look years younger than you are. Come on, dont be like this.
You know Marys become terribly wheezy since she got asthmashe cant manage a phone call without coughing, and she lives all the way over in Knightsbridge now. And remember, there used to be three of us. Ive told you about Lucy, havent I? She passed years ago. Ninas voice drifted. Yesterday, Tanya from next door popped round. Shes lovelyoften brings cakes, you know, and tells me about her children and grandchildren. Shes quite a bit younger, but even so, her childhood, her memories of school, are just different.
Nina looked down at her hands, feeling the old ache of nostalgia. I just want to have a proper natter with someone from my own days, you know?
But she knew Charlotte wouldnt understand, not yet. Not when her life was still out there waiting, not when she wasnt yet drawn to memories. Charlotte was thoughtful and caringthis wasnt her fault at all.
Mum, Ive got two tickets for Tuesday night at the opera houseremember, you said youd like to go? So, enough mopingwear your claret dress. You look a stunner in it!
All right, Charlotte, youre rightas usual. I dont really know whats come over me tonight. Sleep well, well chat tomorrow. Do try to get some rest.
Yes, Mum. Goodnight, Charlotte said, hanging up.
Nina sat quietly for a while, gazing at the shimmering city lights through her window.
She was swept away, suddenly, to a spring twenty years ago. So many plans, such certainty, it felt like only yesterday. Her friend Mary had fancied Stephen Mallory back in their class. Stephen had always rung Ninas house in the evenings, inviting her for a stroll, but shed only ever seen him as a mateno point in leading him on.
Stephen had joined the Navy after school; came back after a few years, then married. Hed lived in Marys old street, and had one of those proper rotary phones. The number suddenly, Ninas fingers, almost without thinking, dialled the remembered sequence.
There was a long pause on the line; then eventually, a faint rustling, and a quiet male voice answered, dreamy and far away: Hello? Im listening.
Is it too late? Why on earth did I ring? Stephen might not even remember memaybe its not him at all.
Good evening, Nina managed, voice rough with nerves.
Shuffling again. Then, out of nowherea startled intake of breath, and: Nina? Butsurely its you! Id never mistake your voice. However did you find me? I wasnt expecting
Stephen! You recognised me! A bolt of delight shot through her. It had been so long since anyone had simply called her Ninausually it was Mum, Gran, or Mrs Barton. Only Mary had used her name in years.
Just Nina sounded magical. Youthful. As though no time at all had passed.
Nina, how are you keeping? Youve no idea how glad I am to hear your voice. Just those words warmed her heart. Shed been so afraid he wouldnt remember her, or that her call would be an annoyance.
Do you remember our last year at school? When Victor West and I took you and Mary rowing on the Serpentine? He wound up with blisters, hid them under the table at tea. Stephens slow, thoughtful voice came through, distant as a radio at the end of a corridor.
I remember, of course! Nina laughed, feeling as if shed gone back in years. And our class trip to Epping Forest for the night! The way we all starved because we couldnt open the tinned beans.
Stephen laughed softly, But Vic managed in the end. Then we all sang around the fireremember? Thats when I decided I wanted to learn the guitar.
And did you, in the end? Nina asked, voice bubbling with memories reborn. With every detail, Stephen seemed to resurrect the long-buried spring of their youth.
How are you now? Stephens voice softened even more, then he carried on, Well, I suppose I can tell from your voicehappy, arent you? Children, grandchildren, the odd poemoh, I remember! Melt in midnight, rise by dawns first chime! Always so life-affirming.
You were the sunlight, Nina. You warmed anyone near you. Your familys luckywhat a treasure, having you for a mum and gran.
Oh, enough, Stephen! Nina protested, bashful. My times been and gone
But he cut her off, Nonsense! Your voice is electricmy phone nearly sizzled just now! I tell you, Nina, your times far from over. Lifes not waiting for you to leave it. Its right here, shining just for you.
And the clouds waltz across the sky for you.
And the blackbirds sing only for you.
Stephen, you havent changed at all! What about you though? I keep rambling about myself But the line suddenly crackled, clicked, and just like that the connection dissolved.
Nina sat there, clutching the receiver, torn between the urge to call back and the sense that, after all, it was far too late. Perhaps another time.
She felt lighter than she had in years, positively bubbling over. And when her granddaughter ranga quick Hi Grandma, Mum says were going to the concert, are you all right?Nina answered with a cheery Cant wait to see you tomorrow, love.
Still beaming, Nina tucked herself into bed, threads of poetry drifting through her mind, weaving new plans out of the warmth of an old friends voice.
The next morning, she suddenly decided to pay Mary a visit. A few stops on the tramshe wasnt an old crock yet, was she?
Marys whole face lit up when she saw her. Fancy that! Been agesoh, youve brought apricot cake, my favourite! So come on, spill the beans she paused, hand to her chest as she coughed, but brushed it off. New inhaler, bit better today. And you, Nina, you look younger. Whats up with you?
Ive no ideamy fifth youth, maybe! Nina grinned, cutting the cake. Youll never guessI ended up ringing Stephen Mallory by accident last night. Your old school crush, remember? He was dredging up all sorts of memories Id nearly forgotten! Hey, youve gone quiet, Marywhats wrong?
Mary had turned pale, staring in disbelief. Then she whispered, Nina, didnt youdidnt you know? Stephen passed away a year ago. And he moved ages agoyou must have dialled the wrong number.
What? Ninas voice trembled. Butwho was I talking to? It was definitely Stephen, every memoryit made my whole day, talking to him. Reminded me theres still so much to enjoy.
It was his voiceIm telling you. Clear as anything. And do you know the last thing he said? The sun shines for you. The clouds drift for you. The birds sing just for you!
Mary just shook her head, doubt creasing her brow. Then she said, quietly, Nina, I dont really know what happened, but it really sounds like it was him. His turn of phrase, all of it. He loved you, you know. Maybe he just wanted to give you a bit of hope. And you know what? He managed it. You look more alive now than you have for years.
And so, in a place balanced halfway between memory and dream, Nina knew: Sometimes, someone gathers up your battered old heart, and you remember youre simply happy.
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A Grandson’s Request: An Uplifting Story “Gran, I need to ask you something—it’s really important. I need a lot of money.” He arrived in the evening—nervous, restless. Normally, Daniel popped round to see Lilian twice a week, happy to fetch her groceries or pop out the bins. Once, he even fixed her old sofa. Always calm, always confident—never like this. Lilian always worried—it was a strange world out there. “Daniel, love, can I ask—why do you need the money? And how much is ‘a lot’?” Her voice was steady, but her heart thumped. Daniel was her eldest grandson—a good lad, kind at heart. He’d finished school a year ago, working part-time while studying. His parents hadn’t voiced any concerns, but why would he need so much cash? “I can’t say yet, Gran, but I promise I’ll pay you back—just not all at once…” “You know I’m only on my pension,” said Lilian, torn, “How much exactly?” “One thousand pounds.” “Why not ask your parents?” Lilian asked absently, already guessing his answer. Daniel’s dad—her son-in-law—was strict, expected children to solve their own problems and not stick their noses where they didn’t belong. “They wouldn’t help,” Daniel replied, confirming her thoughts with a sigh. Had he got mixed up in something serious? Would giving him the money only make it worse? But what if not giving it made things even harder? She studied him with concern. “Gran, it’s nothing bad, I swear. I’ll pay you back in three months—promise! Don’t you trust me?” She probably should lend it, even if he never returned it. There ought to be someone in his life who has his back; someone he can trust—so he never loses faith in people. She did have that money set aside for emergencies. Perhaps this was the one. After all, Daniel had come to her. Funerals could wait—life was for the living. It’s family—family you must trust. They say if you lend money, be prepared to lose it. The young can be unpredictable… but Daniel had never let her down. “All right, I’ll lend you the money for three months, as you said. But wouldn’t it be better for your parents to know?” “Gran, you know I love you, and I always keep my promises. If you can’t help I’ll try to get a loan—after all, I do work.” The next day, Lilian went to the bank, withdrew the money and handed it to Daniel. He beamed, gave her a grateful hug, and dashed off: “Thank you, Gran, you’re the best. I’ll pay you back—I promise!” Lilian returned home, brewed herself a cup of tea, and pondered. So many times in her life she’d desperately needed help. Every time, someone came through. But now, these days, everyone looked out for themselves. Times were tough. A week later, Daniel popped in again, cheerful. “Gran, here’s the first bit back—I got an advance at work. Oh, and can I bring a friend round tomorrow?” “Of course, love. I’ll bake your favourite—poppyseed cake.” She smiled, relieved—whatever it was, she’d soon know. Daniel came that evening. Not alone. A slender young woman stood by his side. “Gran, this is Lisa. Lisa, meet my lovely Gran, Lilian.” Lisa blushed, “Hello, thank you so much, Mrs Taylor!” “Come in, both of you,” Lilian relaxed—they seemed good together. They sat and chatted over tea and cake. “Gran, I couldn’t tell you before. Lisa’s mum became suddenly very ill; there was no one else to help and Lisa was so worried—she made me promise not to explain why I needed the money. But it’s over now—her mum’s had the operation. The doctors say she’ll recover.” Daniel looked at Lisa, squeezing her hand. “Thank you—you’re so kind. I can’t thank you enough,” Lisa said, turning away to hide her tears. “I told you, everything’s all right, don’t cry,” Daniel smiled, “Come on, Gran, we’d better be off—getting late.” “Take care, dears, goodnight—may everything work out for you.” As they left, Lilian crossed herself (old habits die hard). Her grandson had grown up—a solid young man. She was glad she trusted him. It wasn’t really about the money; it brought them closer. Two months on, Daniel repaid her in full. “Just think, Gran. The doctor said if we hadn’t acted so quickly, it could have ended much worse. I didn’t know how I could help Lisa. I realise now—there’s always someone willing to step up when things are hard. And I’ll always look after you, Gran—you’re the best in the world!” Lilian ruffled his hair, as she had when he was little. “All right, off you go—and bring Lisa round soon!” “Of course,” Daniel grinned, hugging her. As she closed the door, Lilian remembered what her own gran used to say: “You must always look after your own. It’s the English way—never turn your back on family. Remember that!”
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