Love Letter

Stop!

April 20th.....

Alison, darling.

Stop.

Right now.

Whatever you're doing, wherever you are.

I want you to stop.

I want you to pick up your phone and dial the number below.  There is someone there for you to call.

Please darling. Now.

Love Tom xxxx

She dropped the paper on the desk with shaking hands. This was nothing like she'd ever anticipated, and then some....

Tom's reply arrived only a matter of hours, literally hours, after her tearful letters reached him.

He'd opened them both at the same time, something telling him that their close proximity wasn't a good thing.  Once he'd read them and re-read the second one, handing it to Luke with a white face and shaking hands, he knew what he had to do.

"I don't have her number. Dammit Luke. She's terrified. That IDIOT scared her into a black hole, and I can't get her out." He stood and paced the room. "Should I go there? Should I just turn up?" He stopped and looked over to the only man in the world he truly trusted to give him the truth.

"Jesus H, Tom. " Luke glanced up, his eyes reflecting the horror of the second letter. "No. You can't just waltz in. You have to tread carefully. If this is just a middle-of-the-night terror - like everyone has.at one time or another - then she'll be mortified and ashamed. You don't want that. If it's not, she still needs you to show her you're not phased by this." He paused. "I wouldn't normally say this,  but this isn't normal, is it. Give her your number. Not the agency, not even mine. Yours. Direct. Ask her - actually, no, tell her to call you."

Luke handed him the tear stained missive with a small sigh. "Poor girl must feel quite literally like the world's ending."

He sat on the edge of Tom's desk. "This isn't the time to be circumspect. This is the time to be a friend. Write the letter now. To hell with the cost, I'll get it sent same day delivery. This is too important. To her. To you."

Tom crossed back from the window where he'd been standing looking out into the street. With a thin smile, he sat down and began to write. As he got into his stride, he paused.

"Luke?" He raised his head and turned to his friend who was now searching for his car keys.

"Yes?" He paused, keys now in hand.

"What... erm, what's my phone number?" Tom winced, and although his eyes were shut, he could hear Luke rolling his in exasperation.

"I swear I don't know how you manage to learn bloody great swathes of Shakespeare when you can't even learn an eleven digit phone number!"  He laughed despite the gravity of the situation.  "Next, you'll be telling me you dont know your National Insurance number either?"

Tom grinned, chewing the end of the pen. "Now Luke, that's not fair... that's what I have YOU for!"

"You cheeky sod! If you weren't... " Luke came and wrote the phone number on a sticky note for him.  "I suppose to be fair, you dont call yourself."

"EXACTLY!"

So that was how, several hours later, Alison answered the doorbell to a special delivery.

The postman, not her usual with Charlie having finished for the day, asked her to sign for it.  She instantly recognised the handwriting, and her heart pounded.

"Special delivery? Won the lottery love?" He asked pleasantly.  Alison nodded.

"Yeah, something like that. Thanks."

She closed the door and padded back through, her eyes glued to the envelope as if it might disappear.

Now, she sat in her small living room, the ticking of the clock echoing in the silence like a freight train.

She stared at the letter. It had been in his hands today. That morning.  Now, late afternoon, it was here. She lifted it carefully.  Checking, nobody could see her, as if they actually would, she sniffed the paper.  Eyes closed, she was almost sure she could smell a faint whiff of aftershave.

Or was that hope?  She put it down, slightly embarrassed at her own behaviour. What was she DOING!?!  The words on the page burned into her brain. He'd been concerned enough to write back instantly. He'd cared enough to want her to call the number for support.  Oh, Jesus wept. He actually cared. She read it again.

Call the number. Now.

Who's number? The Samaritans? MacMillan? They all had people to talk to 24/7. To be there when no one else could. He was obviously busy. He was who he was, after all. But he'd tried to make it right. She should do as she was told.  Then she could write and tell him she had.  Yes. She would do it now.

Her eyes drifted back to the sign off. 'Love Tom xxxx'  suddenly there were no more best wishes. No more formality. Now, it was real. A true friendship. Yes.  She would call the number now.  After all, what harm could it do? They'd not know her. There would be no shame.

She picked up her phone and dialled carefully.  For a moment, there was a pause, then it rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. No answer. 

Four times. They must be busy. She'd try again another day.

Five rings, and she decided to hang up.

Just as she took the phone away from her ear, it picked up.

A breathless voice panted, "Hi. Sorry. I was taking Bobby's lead and harness off. Wee devil was being awkward. Tom speaking, can I help you?"

Alison almost fainted with shock. Instead, she managed to breathe out,

"Tom? It's me. It's Ali.........."