Only One Left Standing

Left Alone

Dusk had already settled outside the small Manchester flat, and still, her mother hadnt come back. Emily spun the wheels of her wheelchair restlessly, rolled up to the table, and dialled her mums number.

The person you are calling is unavailable, or out of range, the distant automated voice announced.

Emily stared at the phone, lost. Then she remembered there was hardly any credit left and switched it off.

Her mum had popped out to the supermarket and was taking far longer than usual. This had never happened before. Mum never left her for longnot with Emily’s legs unable to carry her, having needed her chair since birth. There were no other family nearby, just the two of them.

Emily was seven. She wasnt frightened to stay home anymore, but mum always told her where she was going and when shed be back. The minutes dragged. What could have happened?

She went to the big Sainsbury’s, the one we sometimes shop at because its cheaper, even if its a bit farther away. Its only an hours walk there and back, Emily said to herself, checking the clock. But its already been four hours. Im so hungry.

She directed her chair into the kitchen, boiled the kettle, and took a leftover sausage from the fridge. She ate in silence, sipping her tea.

Her mother still hadnt come. Unable to bear the worry, Emily called again.

The person you are calling is unavailable, or out of range, the mechanical voice repeated.

She wheeled herself to bed, tucked her phone under her pillow, and slept with the light on. Without mum, the dark was just too much.

She lay there, waiting, and eventually, sleep found her.

***

The morning sun streamed through the window when she finally woke. Mums bed was still neatly made.

Mum! Emily called out, her voice cracking in the empty flat.

Silence. She dialled again. The same cold, tinny voice.

Fear finally crept in. Tears traced down her cheeks.

***

Oliver walked down a drizzly street on his way home from the bakery, brown paper bag in hand. Every morning, without fail, he fetched buns for breakfast. He lived with his mum since, at thirty, life had handed him far too much trouble: poor health from birth, thin and awkward in body, and with no wife or childrenthe doctors had told him he never could. He had accepted it long ago.

In the grass near the curb, something shiny caught his eye: an old mobile, battered as if a car had crushed it. As a programmer and tech blogger, he knew all there was about gadgetsit was an odd sort of hobby, really. Though he owned the best phones himself, professional curiosity made him pick up the damaged device and slip it into his pocket to inspect later.

What if theres been an accident? he wondered, hurrying home to find out.

After breakfast, Oliver fished out the battered phone, popped the SIM into one of his spares. Most numbers saved belonged to clinics, the council, or other official places, but one stood out: daughter.

After a pause, he dialled it.

Mum! a small, hopeful voice cried.

Im not your mum, Oliver stammered.

Wheres my mum? panic rising in her words.

I found a broken phone on the street and called whoever was saved on it, he said quietly.

My mum went to Sainsbury’s yesterday and never came back. Ive been on my own since, sobbed the child.

No dad or nan? he pressed.

No, just me and mum.

Whats your name? said Oliver, suddenly determined.

Emily.

Im Uncle Oliver. Emily, could you tell your neighbours youre alone?

I cant go outsideI cant walk. And the flat next door is empty.

What do you mean you cant walk? Oliver was thrown.

My legs never worked. Mum says if we save enough pounds, maybe I can have an operation one day.

How do you get around?

Wheelchair.

Emily, do you know your address? Oliver asked, already gathering his things.

YesSeven Windsor Avenue, flat eighteen.

Hold tightIm coming to find you. Well sort this out together.

He hung up.

His mother, Margaret, knocked and peered into his room. Oliver, whats wrong?

I found a smashed phone, transferred the SIM, and called the number saved under daughter. Theres a little girl, disabled, all alone at home with no family nearby. She gave me her address. I have to help her.

Ill come too, Margaret said, already pulling on her coat. Shed raised Oliver alone through years of ill health and understood what it meant to struggle. Now, she was retired, and her boy earned well.

They called a taxi.

***

Buzzing the entry phone, they waited.

Who is it? Emilys timid voice sounded.

Emily, its meOliver, he called.

Please come in.

The door clicked, and they entered. The inside door, too, was already ajar.

A thin girl in a wheelchair waited, her eyes sorrowful. Can you find my mum? she managed.

Whats your mums name? Oliver asked gently.

Jane.

And your surname?

Barker.

Wait, Oliver his mother interrupted, crouching beside Emily. Are you hungry, love?

Yes. I ate last nights sausage, but that was all.

Oliver, nip to the shop, pick up what we usually buy, please.

Got it! He raced away.

***

When he returned, Margaret was busy in the kitchen. She unpacked the groceries, set the table, and soon there was a warm meal.

Afterwards, Oliver took to his laptop, scrolling through the local news for incidents the previous day.

Thereon Park Lane, a woman was struck by a car. Taken to hospital in a serious condition.

He rang the hospital. On the third try, someone answered.

Yes, we received a Jane Barker from Park Lane, brought in yesterday. No ID, no phone, still unconscious.

Her surname? Oliver pressed.

No documents with her. Are you a relative?

Well Im helping her daughter. Ill come down now.

He went to Emily.

Do you have a photo of your mum?

Yes, Emily wheeled to the sideboard and fetched an album. We took this not long ago.

Shes beautiful, Oliver smiled, snapping a picture with his phone. Im off to find her, all right?

***

Lifting heavy eyelids, Jane stared at a sterile white ceiling. Images flickered in her heada screech, a roaring car, flying glass

She tried moving, pain shooting everywhere. A nurse hovered beside her. Youre awake?

Janes eyes widened in panic. How longhow long have I been here?

Two days.

My daughters at home alone

Jane, calm now! the nurse gently pressed her shoulder. Yesterday a young man visited. Left you his numbersaid your phone was run over.

Jane gasped, Please, can I call her?

The nurse pressed daughter on the phone and held it to Janes ear.

Mum! Emilys voice flooded the line.

Sweetheart! Are you all right?

Yes! Grandma Margaret and Uncle Oliver are here.

Whos Uncle Oliver?

Just rest now, the nurse cut in as the doctor arrived. No more excitement.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut. Ill call you again, darling. She handed the phone back.

The doctor checked her over, nodded at the nurse who set up a drip. Once alone, Jane pleaded, Please, just one more minute with my girl.

“Doctor said rest,” the nurse replied, but she still dialled the number and handed it back.

“Sweetheart…”

Janethis is Margaret. My son found your phone and traced your daughter and you. Im a pensioner; while youre in hospital, Ill look after Emily. Dont you fret! Here, she wants to speak.

Mum, dont worryget better soon! Emily piped up.

Be good for Grandma! Jane whispered, her voice trembling with hope.

“That’s enough now, phone off,” insisted the nurse.

***

The next day Jane moved to a regular ward. That evening, during visiting hours, a rather awkward, thin young man walked in.

Hello, Jane. Im Oliver, he smiled shyly, setting a large bag on the table. Hope you dont mind me being informal.

Jane blinked. I dont even know you, she said, lost.

I found your broken phone, got your SIM working, phoned Emily, then tracked you down. Thats all.

Hows my Emily?

Lets find out.

He grabbed the phone hed left earlier, made a few taps, and held it out.

Jane saw Emilys face on the screen.

Mum! Are you hurting? her daughter asked.

Not anymore, darling. Are you alright?

Grandma Margaret comes every day, Emily grinned.

Jane and her daughter talked a long time. Oliver waited, patient. When shed finished, Jane smiled weakly.

I owe you everything.

“Don’t be daft, Janejust call me Oliver!

Thank you, Oliver. Show me how this phone works, will you?

***

Two weeks passed.

The man whod caused the accident brought Jane a cheque for £5,000 at the hospital, his solicitor in tow.

The next day, she was discharged. Oliver picked her up.

Mum! Emily called, voice ringing with joy.

Jane knelt, hugging her daughter tightly, sobbing into her hair. She turned to Margaret:

Thank you, Margaret. Thank you for everything.

Margaret waved her off. Think nothing of it. Emilys almost a granddaughter to me now.

Margaret, Jane fumbled in her handbag, they gave me some compensation. Pleaselet me thank you

Put that away! Margaret chided. Oliver and I wont starve, but youll need every penny for Emilys operation. Olivers already been in touch with a clinic.

Mum! Emily cried. Uncle Oliver says I might walk if we see the doctors!

***

Jane and Emily spent two weeks in hospital. New rods were fitted, with three more surgeries set over the next few years. If all went well, by the end Emily would walk.

For now, she still used her chair, and the rods made her uncomfortable, but there was hope at last.

Yet fate refused to let these four be. Margaret suffered a heart attack and landed in intensive care.

Jane stayed by her hospital bed for three nights, dashing home only to cook and sleep. Oliver looked after Emily those nights.

On the fourth day, Margaret came round. She fixed her gaze on Jane. Her voice was quiet, heavy with meaning.

My dear, I wont be on this earth forever. Marry Oliver. Hes a good man, and together, youll get Emily up and running.

Margaret Would Oliver ever?

A rare smile creased the womans face. Of course he would. He most certainly would.

***

A silver-haired woman gripped the hand of a tall girl with a schoolbag and a bunch of daffodils. If not for her height, onlookers would think it was her first day of primary.

But it was her first day at schoolalbeit at the age of ten, and she was starting Year Four. The last three years had been spent home-schooling, but now, at last, Emily walkedwith her own feet.

Gran, Im a bit scared.

Come now, Emily. Youre ten years old! Lookheres mum and dad!

Jane caught up to her. Darling, why the long face?

Shes just nervous, Margaret laughed softly.

Oliver took Emilys hand in his own. Come on, lets go together.

With you, Dad, Im not scared at all, Emily smiled.

And so, togetherfather and daughter up ahead, mother and grandmother behindthey walked, joy brightening their faces as they went to school, the happiest of families.