By Robert Ferguson
A very, very weak tea
“No, Mr. Dawson, we’ve no patient registered here in that name. Can I be
of any further assistance?”
“No…er, no, thank you.”
So
that was the last of the three local hospitals, and still nothing. Perhaps there
had been an incident in London? Google again, list the enquiry numbers. Pick up
the ‘phone. Getting a bit agitated now. After all, it has been forty-eight
hours. The policeman said I should hear something within forty-eight hours, but
I haven’t.
Eighth
call later.
“No, Mr. Dawson, we’ve no patient registered here by that name. Do hope
you get some news soon. Goodbye.”
And
the ninth, and the tenth.
I
must call the police station again when I get a minute. Oh, this is all taking
such a lot of time! And I must get on with that research old Baxter wanted by
this evening. And then … oh, dear. I suppose I must ’phone Amanda, but I can’t
do that until this evening because she’ll be at work too,
so…
“Oh, yes, George, immediately. I’ll just gather up my papers and come
right along.”
“Good morning, sergeant. I telephoned on Saturday evening. My name is
Dawson. Yes, about my wife. Well, she wasn’t here….well, 46 Ockham Road, … FE14
5BY…. 07367 149 453…well, she wasn’t here when I got home on Saturday evening,
and you said …yes, well, a colleague of yours said, give it forty-eight hours,
and I have, and that was yesterday evening, but now it’s Tuesday and I’ve
telephoned all the local hospitals and all the inner London hospitals … yes, I
told you…your colleague, she was going up to London on Saturday to meet our
daughter…well, I haven’t actually telephoned her yet….well, it’s a bit
difficult, actually, well, we don’t have much to say to each other, you
see…well, all right, if I must…yes, I do see your point sergeant. And I’ll
telephone you again when I’ve spoken …yes, thank you, thank
you.”
“Amanda, it’s your father…Yes, well, I know you know it is…Well, I’m …
that is, … I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you, … did you and your
mother enjoy your day on Saturday? … Amanda? Are you there, Amanda? … Well, I’m
asking you because…well, I can’t ask your mother…She isn’t here…Well, if I knew
that, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?... No, of course she hasn’t left me …
I simply don’t know where she is…She wasn’t here when I got back after last
week… At a conference in Scarborough, of course. …Yes, a business
conference…Yes, I know there are a lot of them. There always have been a lot of
them. It’s what’s …Amanda, you know it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.
It’s how I put clothes on your backs, you and your mother, and food in your
bellies…Well, I did, when you were still at home… No! Why should I change jobs?
How could I, after all these years?...Look, Amanda, it’s not me who’s not here,
it’s your mother. Did she say anything when you met in London on
Saturday?...Whatever do you mean, Amanda?... Well, that’s what she told me…Not
for how long?...Well, has she telephoned you, or written to you? …No, I know I
haven’t either, but you’re a grown woman now, Amanda, with your own work and
your own career. I presumed you didn’t want to be bothered with a constant
stream of…Look, Amanda, I didn’t telephone you for another row. I’ve got enough
trouble at the office…All right, just, if you do hear from her, tell her to
‘phone me…Of course I’m…concerned, but its a particularly busy time at the
moment…Yes, I agree, I’m sure she’s all right, it’s just I’d like to know where
she is, and what she thinks she’s doing, not being here when I expected her to
be. How am I supposed to look after her if I don’t know where she is?...Of
course she needs looking after. How is she going to eat? Where’s she going to
sleep?...Amanda, don’t take that tone to me again! She has no income, and…Well,
as a matter of fact, no, I haven’t checked her wardrobe. No, nor her drawers. I
wouldn’t know, anyway, if anything were missing. Why should I? Why should it be?
…I really don’t suppose anyone would bother to kidnap your mother, Amanda. Why
ever would they? That’s one of the most stupid….All right, I’m sorry, no, don’t
hang up, Amanda, I withdraw stupid. Yes, unreservedly. I’m a bit stressed at the
office, that’s all…Well, all right, I suppose… I mean, she was just as usual,
before the Scarborough trip…Well, we didn’t have long conversations, you know
that, Amanda…Now that’s not fair, Amanda. Of course we spoke! We were always …
well, when you’ve been married as long as we have…Amanda, I’m your father. A
little respect wouldn’t come amiss, Amanda. Amanda? Am…”
“Is
that Rosamund? This is Beddy…Bedford…Bedford Dawson, Constance’s husband…No, it
is not a scam call, I’m your brother-in-law! Are you…Yes, Beddy…Oh, good…yes, it
has been ages, hasn’t it? The thing is, Rosamund, I’m not quite sure how to say
this, but…I mean, well, have you seen Constance recently?...Nor spoken to her, I
suppose?...No, well, it was quite a row, wasn’t it? But then, you and she…No,
no, Rosamund, I wasn’t criticising. No, nor taking sides.
Rosamund, I just need to know, have you…has she…Well, that’s pretty clear, I
suppose. OK, thank you, Rosamund…Oh, regards to …er…your husband, by the
way…Yes, Edward, of course…Oh. When did you break up?...Oh, Nigel, then. Yes,
I’ll try to …no, I don’t suppose there is, unless we are likely to meet in the
foreseeable…well, perhaps we might?...Goodbye, Rosamund, nice talking to…” Oh.
“Good evening, sergeant. I telephoned on Saturday evening, and then again
on Tuesday. My name is Dawson. Yes, about my wife. Well, she hasn’t, that is to
say, I still haven’t seen her….yes, that’s right, 46 Ockham Road, … Well, I
wouldn’t say missing, Sergeant. She just isn’t here, and now it’s been a
week, and…Constance Dawson, Sergeant…she’s 46…about five feet two, I
suppose…I’ve no idea what she weighs, Sergeant. She’s quite slim…Fair hair, sort
of medium-ish, between short and long, I suppose…Yes, I’d say she was reasonably
attractive. Everyone seemed to think so, years ago, when we were married…17
years, sergeant, just after the Millennium…The last time I saw her she was
wearing her nightdress and housecoat. It was breakfast time, and I was rushing
to catch my train to…No, of course she wouldn’t go out like that, but how she
dressed that day, when she did dress, I’ve no idea. How could I? Why should
I?...Yes, I’m sorry, sergeant, I do understand you have to ask…No, my daughter
hasn’t seen her or heard from her, apparently, or my sister-in-law. In fact, I
had thought she was having a day in London on Saturday with my daughter, but
apparently that wasn’t so…Well, its what she told me they were doing. I mean, if
people don’t tell you what they’re doing, what they’re thinking, how on earth
can anyone know where they stand, sergeant?...Yes, I do understand that,
sergeant. Yes, indeed she’s a grown woman, but she’s my wife, for goodness sake.
Surely she can’t just swan off without a word?…Well, I have to say, sergeant, I
think that’s carrying the idea of personal freedom rather far…Yes, I do see
that, too, sergeant. Well, if there really is no more you can do than note her
details…No, no, no, I couldn’t possibly afford a private detective…Salvation
Army? Well, we’ve neither of us ever been religious, sergeant…I suppose so, if
they’re that efficient at finding people, but I think that’s a bit of a last
resort for people like us, and it’s only been a week, so far. I’ll give it a
little longer before that, I think, sergeant, and see what happens…Yes, thank
you very much, sergeant, you’ve been very helpful, as far as you can be. Thank
you. Goodbye.”
“Dawson…Oh, good morning, Deborah…The office Christmas lunch? Is it that
time already? Well, I think, this year, I’ll give it a … oh, does he? The whole
crew? Sort of three-line whip, as you might…? Yes, well, in that case, you’d
better put me down…No, Mrs. Dawson won’t be…No, she hasn’t been…Well, there we
are, these things happen…No, just me, Deborah, and give Mr. Blakely my wife’s
apologies…Thank you. Goodbye, good bye.”
I suppose I’ve adjusted quite well, actually. Hadn’t really noticed. Oh,
well, on we go. Now, I must sort out the travel arrangements for the regional
meeting at Bognor next week….
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