THE WAKE UP CALL

The sun was streaming in the window heralding a new day. Apparently, it was Saturday but in this house, it was no different from any other day. It was neither a house of mourning nor of sadness, it was just another one of those “nothing” days. The youngest member of the house felt it most. Where was Daddy going now? He did not even say goodbye. His little boy was resigned to feeling left out and tried not to look glum, but it was still unfair.  He stamped his little foot and went back into bed crying himself to sleep.

Paul was only four and did not understand why Mummy was always home alone and Daddy was rarely home. She took him everywhere, and unless Grandad was staying, and they did things together, he saw his friends with their Daddies and he could not understand, why his Daddy was not there too. What is more, Mummy always looked tired and sad and no matter what he did, he, Paul, could not make it better! Mummy understood what he was trying to do, but though she ruffled his hair and pushed the swing; though she made his dinner and cuddled him when they watched TV, he sensed she was unhappy. If Aunty Audrey came over, they laughed a bit, but Paul felt sad too. Aunty Audrey was lovely, but she was not Daddy she was his sister and she and Mummy were good friends.

Sometimes he looked into the spare room where Daddy’s trombone ‘rested’, and there was an electric guitar too, but Paul was not allowed to touch them. On his last birthday Aunty Audrey gave Paul his own guitar so he could sing and accompany himself; but when he showed Daddy expecting he would be excited, he, Daddy brushed him off as though it were of no importance. Paul cried on his birthday.  Mummy noticed, and Grandad took Paul out to McDonalds for a cheeseburger. It was nice but it should have been Daddy who took him, who dried his tears. Daddy? Daddy just…well, he was Daddy, a distant figure in his son’s life and his wife’s too, if Paul only knew, but at the age of four how would he understand? Yet the seeds once planted would remain.

CHRIS

Chris Smythe had always wanted to be a musician. Unlike the other boys his age the Beatles did not do much for him, but dance bands: Glen Miller, Johnny Dankworth, and the like, fascinated him. When his mates were asked what they wanted to do for a living, the answers were mundane at best, common at worst; teaching, plumbing, medicine, military service: no, Chris had dreams. He wanted more than anything in the world to be a musician, and not in a military band either. He learned the trombone and trumpet, preferring the trombone, then he discovered he had a pleasant enough voice and persuaded his parents to help him get guitar lessons too. Audrey his younger sister played the piano beautifully. She had potential, she could have made it in any orchestra, but she had a yen for nursing, which in Chris’s opinion was lunacy. He did have the good sense to know he should not, could not tell Audrey how to run her life. Perhaps the only time in his life where Chris listened to the inner voice of common sense.

He took a clerical job where he met Joan; their friendship developed. He realised that he had feelings for her, but he was determined to follow that part of his heart where his dreams developed, retaining the clerical job to put butter on the bread. Joan seemed to accept that Friday and Saturday nights were usually busy for Chris. She went occasionally to see and hear him and foolishly fell for the would-be musician, believing that he would have time for her. It worked for a while, dinners out, flowers… then distance, acceptance, loneliness and sometimes, tears.  Joan did her best to keep up the wifely act and was a wonderful Mum, but she needed what also came with a wedding ring, companionship, and certainly devotion.

As Chris saw the sad eyes of his son looking at him from the bedroom window, he was pensive. He had not even gone in to say ‘Hi’, it was shameful.  Like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind, Chris could not think about that now: “he’d think about it later when he could stand it.”

It was nearing time for the audition; the boys had practised and Chris’s new song was going to be a hit. Jerry and Karl were waiting, with Jim lagging behind. Jim was apologetic; his daughter was unwell and needed a Daddy hug to cheer her. Chris smiled, thinking once again of Paul. When last did Chris give his son a hug? Come to that when last did Joan get anything more than a hurried peck on the cheek?

They warmed up once out of the cold, and tuned up, knowing they were the first on. It sounded great but Chris missed his cue, Jerry began again, the intro just a little more pronounced than before. Chris got into the swing of it, but he sang out of tune. They did their second piece where Jim sang and Chris hid behind the trombone. They failed the audition. What a surprise!

Chris left in disgust. He was so preoccupied with disappointment, he failed to stop at the red light and very nearly had a child under his wheels. He stopped the car; his hands were shaking. Just then his mobile rang. Believing it to be a client he answered:

“Chris Smythe, how can I be of service to you?”

The caller was crying, then he could hear a familiar voice and the phone being handed over to the other.

“Chris, it’s Audrey. Get over to the hospital emergency unit right away; Paul’s been hurt.”

“Eh?”

Chris cut the crap, Joan needs you. For once leave the brass bellows behind.” the call ended.

He wasted no time in getting to the emergency unit, his thoughts racing. He found them waiting.

Hugging Joan he asked, “What happened?”

“He fell from the oak tree and landed on his head,” she answered wearily. “He’s in Xray!”

The examination was thorough, the Xray’s showed that there was no real damage Paul was bruised and hurt and would be raring to go soon, according to the medic, provided he rested as often as a four-year-old could.

Paul awoke; his little face searched for Mummy then, he looked again

“Daddy?” he said hopefully.

“Yep it’s me mate” Chris felt uncomfortable

“Are you staying home?” Paul sounded sleepy

“You bet mate; you are going to see more of your old Dad, I promise.” he looked at Joan and Audrey, and smiled sheepishly “I mean it Joannie.”

“What are you going to do, Chris?” Joan asked

“I’ve had two wake up calls today love, but …”

“There is always the military band,” said Joan “you would suit a uniform.”

She got more than a peck on the cheek, irrespective of the audience. Paul was smiling, Aunty Audrey was satisfied. Chris may have come to his senses, at last