At Dead of Night Page 2

  ‘Unless you dialled it wrongly the first time. Is there any way of checking that?’

  ‘Yes, there is. The phone stores any number you call.’

  ‘Permanently?’

  ‘I doubt it. It probably just stores the last five or something like that.’

  ‘Well, are you going to check?’

  ‘Yes, okay.’ So David pressed the Redial button and saw the last five numbers that had been called. There he saw Susan’s number, followed by 1471, then by two identical numbers which confirmed that he had not dialled incorrectly. ‘No, I didn’t make a mistake,’ he said, ‘so the fault must have developed in the interval between the first time I tried to call back and the second.’

  ‘Perhaps after she made the call she realised that she had stupidly rung the wrong number, and was so upset that she threw the phone at the wall and smashed it? After that it would ring as unobtainable, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it might. No, wait a minute! It’s more likely that, even if the phone had stopped working, you would still hear the ringing tone at your end, because the tone you hear comes from the exchange, I think, rather than from the other person’s phone. But I don’t think that’s really what happened, because the first time I rang back I could hear it ringing out. It was only when I tried again that it was unobtainable.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Is it still ringing unobtainable?’

  ‘I don’t know, because I haven’t tried this morning. I’ll try now.’

  So David dialled the number once more, and once more he heard the number unobtainable tone.

  ‘Wait a minute, David, I’ve just had an idea!’ said Margaret.

  ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘There are certain phones from which people can make calls, but they are not able to receive calls.’

  ‘Which sort of phones?’

  ‘Phones in a ment department, for instance. That means that someone who works at GCHQ may be able to call out, but if you try to ring them back you can’t get through. I don’t know, but I suspect that if you try to ring a forbidden number, you would hear the ‘number unobtainable’ tone!’

  ‘That’s a good idea on the face of it, but it can’t be the answer in this case!’ said David.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if it had been a call from a GCHQ phone, I wouldn’t have been able to find out that it was from a Bishop’s Cleeve number! Nice try though!’

  ‘Oh, I see. So do you think that what really happened was that the line developed a sudden fault after you tried to ring back?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘It might.’

  ‘Granted, in the sense that any fault has to have a beginning, and that could happen at any time. But equally, it might not. There’s something else that’s bugging me though. The caller said that it was your family that had called the police, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So the police had been involved, therefore it must have been a pretty serious matter, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but what do you think I should do, call the police myself?’

  ‘Yes. I think that’s the least you should do. If it were me, I would also double check the number the call came from.’

  ‘I have double checked!’

  ‘Then triple check!’

  ‘I did, just now! And what if it’s a number that doesn’t exist?’

  ‘It can’t be!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if the call you got was from a number that hadn’t been allocated, you wouldn’t have got the call at all! You can’t make a telephone call from a non-existent number!’

  ‘No, of course you can’t! I hadn’t thought of that! So I need to call the exchange too. Good thinking! It’s a good job it’s Saturday and we haven’t got to go out anywhere! Which do you think I should try first?’

  ‘Don’t think it matters really... No, wait, perhaps you should ring the exchange first, because if there is anything fishy, the police would need to be in possession of as much information as there is available.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that makes sense. I’ll do it straight after breakfast.’

  So, once he had shaved, showered and dressed, and had his two customary slices of toast with marmalade, accompanied by a cup of coffee, David first tried calling the number from which the call originated to check that it was still ringing unobtainable – which it was – then called the telephone exchange.

  ‘How may I help you?’ asked the operator.

  ‘I’m having difficulty calling a certain number. I wonder if you could check it out for me.’

  ‘Yes, sir, of course. What’s the number?’

  David read out the number concerned from the slip of paper on which he had written it down during the night, then waited a few seconds.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the operator said, ‘I’m afraid there seems to be a fault on that line.’

  ‘Is there somebody working on repairing it?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no information on that matter, sir.’

  ‘Would you mind telling me whose number it is?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I’m not allowed to give out information of that kind.’

  ‘Is there any way you can get in touch with the subscriber who has that number?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir, until the line is repaired. Could you tell me why you think I should?’

  ‘Well, it’s quite a long story, but it might be important, because the police are involved. I was awoken by a call from that number at a quarter past two this morning...’

  ‘If you want to complain about a nuisance call, sir, you should call the police.’

  ‘I’m going to call the police as soon as I finish this call to you. This is what happened...’

  So David finished up telling the operator the whole story, after which she was still unable to be of any material help, so he rang off, made himself another cup of coffee and sat down to have another little think.

  After he had finished his coffee he finally called the police. This time he decided that a different approach was needed.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, once a policeman had answered the phone. ‘I was woken by a telephone call at a quarter past two this morning.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the policeman, but complaints about nuisance calls should be made to your service provider, not to the police.’

  On hearing the policeman’s response David felt extremely annoyed, because his service provider had just told him to phone the police if he wanted to complain, and now the police appeared to be saying the opposite. He was also angry because both operator and policeman had automatically assumed that complaining was the reason for his call, even though he had not said as much. Complaint was far from being the reason for his call anyway, so David strove to keep calm, and went on to explain to the policeman that he wished to help the police, not to complain.

  ‘Right, sir,’ said the policeman, ‘so how can we help you... um… I mean, how can you help us?’

  David explained in detail what had happened, but the policeman still failed to understand that it had anything to do with the police. ‘So what do you want the police to do about it, sir?’

  David drew a deep breath. ‘It’s not a question of what I want the police to do, it’s already a police matter.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Can you tell me the crime reference number?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have one.’

  ‘If you’ve already reported a crime, you must have a crime reference number...’

  ‘I didn’t say I had reported a crime...’

  ‘So you mean you want to report one now... Tell me what happened.’

  ‘But I’ve already told you...’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think you told me about a crime...’

  David sighed, then started to repeat his story of the night time telephone call, but the policeman interrupted him.

  ‘You’ve already told me that, sir, but I don’t see why it has to be a
police matter.’

  ‘Because my daughter – or the person I thought was my daughter – said that she had not called the police, it was my family that called the police.’

  ‘So tell me the name of the person who got in touch with the police.’

  ‘I don’t know who it was.’

  ‘But it was a member of your family, your daughter said so...’

  ‘No, it wasn’t my daughter at all. I thought that it was my daughter calling, but I was mistaken. Whoever it was that called me said that somebody had called the police, and I just thought that since the police already knew about it – whatever it was – it would be helpful to the police if I told them about this phone call.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but if you can’t give me the crime reference number, or the name of the person who reported the crime, I can’t help you.’

  ‘But...’ David tried to protest, but the policeman cut him short.

  ‘We’re very busy, sir, and I have to tell you that it’s a serious offence to waste police time. Thank you for your call.’

  David attempted to protest again, but it was too late; the policeman had already terminated the call.

  Incandescent with rage, David came close to throwing the telephone against the wall, but thought better of it. After sitting quietly for a while he had regained at least a small portion of his composure, and even went as far as thinking that, if he had thrown the phone against the wall, he would at least find out what ring tone he would hear if he tried the number on his mobile!

  Then David related the course of his conversation with the policeman to Margaret. ‘That’s ridiculous!’ she scoffed. ‘And there was I thinking the days of Police Constable Plod were all in the past...’

  ‘Not likely!’ David said. ‘If that conversation is anything to go by, the brain no longer has any place in police work. It’s absolutely pathetic! And all I was doing was trying to do the right thing! What should I do now?’

  ‘Have you spoken to Susan about it?’

  ‘No, you know very well I haven’t! I’ve only spoken to that idiot operator and the equally idiotic policeman! I’ll have another coffee, sit down for ten minutes, and then phone Susan.’

  ‘You’ve already had three coffees! Don’t overdo it!’

  ‘I’ve only had two!’ he insisted.

  A short while later David did indeed ring his daughter. When she answered he initially felt somewhat disturbed, because the sound of her voice recalled instantly the moment of that call in the very early hours of that same morning, which had the effect of making him tend to disbelieve that it had not been Susan’s voice that he had heard. Nevertheless he carried on with the call.

  ‘Hello, Susan.’

  ‘Hello, Dad! James tells me you’ve been imagining things...’

  ‘Imagining things? I don’t think so! What do you mean?’

  ‘He said you thought I’d called you in the middle of the night when I was asleep!’

  ‘I don’t think I imagined anything! The call was real enough. And even hearing your voice now I can understand only too well why I was convinced it was you speaking.’

  ‘Really? Could I really have a voice double?’

  ‘I suppose it must be possible, because I could have sworn it was you.’

  ‘So what did I say?’

  ‘Well, you – or someone who sounded like you – said, “Are you listening? This is very important. I did not call the police. It was your family who called the police.” You see, I recall the exact words.’

  ‘How weird! And what a strange thing to say! All I can say is that I didn’t call you, and I certainly wouldn’t have said to you that it was your family that called the police. Why would I say that? You are my family! Why would I suggest that you have a family other than the one I’m a member of? And more to the point, how could you even have thought that I might say something like that?’

  ‘Because I know your voice! After all, I should do, because I’ve known you for thirty-nine years!’

  ‘Nearly forty, Dad!’

  ‘Okay, nearly forty. But normally when you call, I hear your voice on the other end of the line and you don’t need to announce yourself, I know exactly who it is from the sound of your voice.’

  ‘Perhaps you were still half asleep... What time was it?’

  ‘About a quarter past two.’

  ‘There you are, you see... Anybody would be more easily deceived at that time of the night, especially if they’d just been woken up from a deep sleep.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s possible. But it’s uncanny that somebody else could sound so much like you...’

  ‘Well, I should just forget all about it if I were you.’

  ‘I wish I could! But there are too many things that concern me. I mean, someone must be in real trouble if the police are involved, and it’s obviously a family problem – a family that’s divided perhaps – and then there’s the fact that I know the number that she was calling from, but when I try to ring her back, I can’t get through. And the police aren’t interested...’

  ‘Oh, you’ve spoken to the police about it, have you?’

  ‘Yes, I got some constable who was as thick as two short planks – no, correction, as thick as seven short planks, if not more! And he just didn’t want to know. He even came close to charging me with wasting police time! But like it or not, I really feel involved now, and I’m worried about that girl and the person she thought she was talking to when she called me, to say nothing of that person’s family who called the police...’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I’ve got to go out, Dad. Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I can’t really think of anything helpful to say!’

  ‘All right, don’t worry. I expect an answer will emerge eventually. Bye for now!’

  ‘Bye, Dad,’ said Susan.

  When David had finished speaking to his daughter he resumed talking to his wife. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’m really worried about that girl.’

  ‘Susan? Why? What’s the matter with her?’

  ‘No, not Susan! I mean the girl who called last night. I’m convinced somebody is in real trouble. Either that, or else they’re up to no good! Whichever it is, I feel I can’t let it go...’

  ‘Then don’t! Use it!’

  ‘What do you mean, use it?’

  ‘Exactly what I say. Use it!’

  ‘I’m sorry, perhaps I’m a bit dim through lack of sleep or something, but I really don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Well, what is it you do for a living?’

  ‘You know very well what I do for a living! I’m a writer.’

  ‘Exactly! And usually you’re a highly imaginative writer too. But it sounds as if your imagination has suddenly deserted you…’

  ‘Oh?’ David seemed surprised.

  ‘Now just listen to me. What does a good story need to get off the ground?’

  ‘Oh, all sorts of things! Strong characters with interesting things happening to them, conflict, drama – the list is endless!’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, but there’s one thing you haven’t mentioned that you’re always going on about whenever you start a story…’

  ‘I really can’t think what you mean!’

  ‘Really? Oh dear! Everything’s going to pot, isn’t it! Perhaps it’s because it’s Saturday, and as a professional writer your brain doesn’t work on Saturday… Or perhaps it’s because you were up half the night! Am I going to have to tell you?’

  ‘Yes, I think you’ll have to, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about!’

  ‘What does a fisherman have on the end of his line?’

  ‘A fisherman? Oh, I don’t know… Bait, I suppose.’

  Margaret sighed. ‘No, I don’t mean bait… Of course a fisherman uses bait, but what stops the bait from falling off the line?’

  ‘The hook, I suppose…’

  ‘Ah, we’ve got there at last! The hook, exactly! How many times have I heard you complaining because your hook wasn
’t convincing? And the first time I heard you say that, I hadn’t the first idea what you were talking about! You had to explain to me in words of one syllable how every story needs to get off to a good start, and how professional writers call that a hook. Now just think about that telephone call you had in the middle of the night… Isn’t that a perfect, ready-made hook?’

  David at last showed signs of grasping what his wife was trying to suggest. ‘Yes!’ he said. ‘I hadn’t thought of that! Perhaps you’re right…’

  ‘Can I have that in writing?’ Margaret asked. ‘Because if the key to a good story is an effective hook, I’m going to claim half the royalties on this one!’

  ‘You already get half the royalties I earn anyway, if not more! But the problem with this particular hook is that I don’t know where the story’s going. Or, to be more precise, I have at least half a dozen possibilities, and I don’t know which one to choose!’

  ’Why restrict yourself to one possibility? Why not use all of them?’

  ‘Because I’m a short story writer. It would be too long.’

  ‘But as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always said that one day you would write a novel…’

  ‘Oh, I know I’ve said that, but there’s a world of difference between saying it and actually doing it!’

  ‘Well, now’s your chance! And if you don’t want to do it, I’ll do it for you!’

  ‘I might hold you to that!’

  ‘And I might very well do it too! I rather fancy giving up nursing – especially the night shifts! Just imagine me sitting around doing nothing, pretending I’m hard at work…’

  ‘Hey! I really do work hard!’

  ‘I know, darling, I’m only pulling your leg! But seriously, I really do think this idea might work! I can see it all falling into place before my eyes.’

  ‘I wish I could! So what’s your plan?’