The fading light outside warned evening approached, yet Mum hadn’t returned. Lily, spinning her wheelchair wheels, navigated to the table, grabbed the phone, and dialled her mum’s number. A cold, recorded voice responded, “The phone you are calling may be switched off or out of signal range.” Puzzled, she stared at the screen, remembered the low credit, and switched it off.
Mum had only popped to the shops but vanished. She never stayed out long, not with Lily being a lifelong wheelchair user. Besides Mum, there was no one else; no other family. At seven, Lily wasn’t usually scared alone, but Mum always said where she was and when she’d be back. Lily couldn’t grasp what happened: “She went to the bigger Sainsbury’s for cheaper groceries today. We often go. It’s not even that far – an hour walk there and back tops,” she glanced at the clock. “She’s been gone four hours. I’m starving.” She wheeled to the kitchen, boiled the kettle, grabbed a leftover sausage roll from the fridge, ate, and drank her tea.
Still no Mum. She snatched the phone again.
“The phone you are calling may be switched off or out of signal range.” The same detached voice echoed.
She moved to her bed, tucked the phone under her pillow. Left the light on; too scary without Mum. She lay awake a long time, but sleep finally came.
***
Sunlight streaming through the window woke her. Mum’s bed was neatly made.
“Mum!” Lily called towards the hallway.
Silence answered. She grabbed the phone, called again. The same metallic voice replied.
Fear surged; tears welled up.
***
Thomas walked home from the bakery, clutching a bag of warm pastries. This was their morning ritual; Mum made breakfast while he fetched the buns. Thirty, Thomas remained unmarried. Women never looked twice; he was awkwardly thin, perpetually ill-looking, plagued by health issues since birth. Expensive treatments were needed, but Mum raised him alone. The final blow came as an adult: doctors said he couldn’t father children. He’d accepted he’d never marry.
A broken phone glinted in the grass. Tech was his passion and job – a programmer and blogger. Though he carried the latest models, professional curiosity made him pick this crushed wreck. It looked run over.
“Something bad happened?” he wondered, pocketing it. “Sort it at home.”
***
After breakfast, he extracted the SIM card and popped it into one of his spare phones. The contacts were mostly NHS numbers and pension services, but the top entry read “My Girl.”
Hesitating, he dialled.
“Mum!” A bright, happy child’s voice answered.
“I… I’m not your Mum,” Thomas stammered.
“Where’s Mum, then?”
“I don’t know. I found a broken phone, put the SIM in, and called.”
“My Mum vanished yesterday,” the voice cracked into tears. “She went shopping and never came home.”
“What about your Dad? Grandparents?”
“Haven’t got any. Only Mum.”
“What’s your name, love?” Thomas knew he had to help.
“Lily.”
“I’m Thomas. Lily, can you fetch a neighbour? Tell them you’re alone.”
“Can’t walk. Can’t leave. The flat next door’s empty.”
“Can’t walk?” Thomas was bewildered.
“Born like this. Mum says we need to save money for an operation.”
“How do you move?”
“Wheelchair.”
“Lily, do you know your address?” Thomas shifted to action.
“Yeah. Seven Churchill Way, Flat Eighteen.”
“I’ll come. We’ll find your Mum.” He ended the call.
Mum, Agnes, entered his room. “Tom? What’s happened?”
“Mum, I found a broken phone… Put its SIM in mine. Called. There’s a disabled little girl alone in her flat. No other family. Got the address. Going to sort it.”
“I’m coming,” Agnes stated firmly, reaching for her coat. A single mother to a sickly son, she understood the struggle. Retired now, Thomas supported her pension comfortably. They hailed a taxi.
***
They buzzed the intercom.
“Who is it?” A small, sad voice echoed.
“Lily? It’s Thomas.”
“Come in!”
The entry door clicked. The flat door upstairs was slightly ajar. Inside, a pale girl in a wheelchair met them with wide, anxious eyes. “Will you find my Mum?”
“What’s your Mum’s name?” Thomas asked quickly.
“Lucy.”
“Surname?”
“Harper.”
“Wait, Tom,” Agnes interjected gently. “Lily, pet, are you hungry?”
“Yeah. There was a sausage roll… I ate it yesterday.”
“Alright, Tom. Run to our usual shop. Buy what you know.”
“Right!” He dashed out.
***
When he returned, Agnes had cooked something simple. She unpacked shopping, laid the table. After they ate, Thomas focused on finding Lucy.
He opened the local news site, scrolled yesterday’s incidents. “Here… City Road. Driver of a Ford Focus collided with pedestrian. Woman in critical condition admitted to Royal Infirmary.”
He got his phone, called the hospital. On the third ring, someone answered.
“Yes, a pedestrian from City Road was admitted yesterday. Critical. Unconscious still.”
“Name?”
“No ID or mobile found on her. Are you family?”
“Well… not yet…”
“Come to the Royal Infirmary…”
“I know it. Omw.”
He hung up, approached Lily. “Got a photo of Mum?”
“Yeah.” She wheeled to a drawer, pulled an album. “Here we are… recently.”
“Your Mum’s lovely!” Thomas took a photo of the photo with his phone, smiled at Lily. “I’ll go. Find her.”
***
Eyes opened. White ceiling. Consciousness crept back. Memory: headlights rushing…
She tried moving. Pain screamed through her body. A nurse approached softly. “Awake?”
Suddenly, Lucy’s eyes widened in horror. “How long?”
“Two days.”
“My daughter… alone…”
“Lucy, easy now!” The nurse gently touched her shoulder. “A young man came yesterday. Left his number. Said your phone was crushed.”
“Need to call…”
“Now.” The nurse tapped a contact labelled “Daughter,” held the phone to Lucy’s ear.
“Mum!”
“Lily! Sweetheart! Are you alright!”
“I’m fine! Grandma Agnes and Uncle Tom are here.”
“Uncle Tom?”
“Patient, don’t distress yourself!” The doctor entered sharply. “Confiscate it. My examination!” He gestured to the nurse.
“Honey, I’ll ring back!” Lucy cried out, ending the call.
The doctor examined her, ordered medication. The nurse swiftly arranged an IV drip. As the doctor left, the nurse pocketed the phone.
“One more minute? Please?” Lucy whispered.
“Doctor forbade excitement,” the nurse sighed, but took out the phone, dialled.
“Sweetheart…”
“Lucy? Agnes Harper here,” a woman’s calm voice replied. “Listen. My son found your broken phone, traced the SIM card, found Lily, then you. Pensioner. While you’re healing, I’ll stay with Lily. Don’t fret. Here’s Lily.”
“Mum, don’t worry! Get better soon!” Lily’s voice chimed.
“Lily, love, mind Grandma!” Lucy clung to the lifeline.
“Patient, hang up!” The nurse commanded.
***
Next day, Lucy was moved to a ward. That evening, visiting hours began.
“Harper? Visitor.”
Before Lucy could properly react, the door opened. A man stood there – awkward, thin. “Hello, Lucy. I’m Thomas,” he smiled shyly. “Visiting. Hope ‘Lucy’s’ alright? Felt formal otherwise.”
“Fine.”
He placed a large bag on the bedside table
Yulia took a deep breath as she reached the classroom door, her family’s the cheerful calls of “We’ll fetch you at three, love!” echoing behind her, while sunlight spilled across the polished corridor like liquid gold.
