Love Letter

Sorrow...

September 17th...

Dear Tom,

Emma here. And before you go all Rita Hayworth on me, calm down and read the letter.

I'm writing because Ali has been taken into hospital. She's still with us. She's just got pneumonia. Well, when I say "just" for someone in her position, it's fairly serious. She
needs antibiotics and monitoring because she's fragile. 

Now, what I DON'T want you doing is marching over here, all guns blazing. Hence the letter. If I'd called you, as you are now screaming at me in anger, you wouldn't have listened. I know you, Tom; probably better than anyone other than our poor, long-suffering mother. 

She's been in for about four days now, just as your letter arrived. She read it but didn't have the capacity to write back.  They're keeping her sedated to make her rest properly because, like you, she's a feisty pain in the ass. Unlike you, brother dear, she will be made to do as she's told!!!

Now, what you CAN do is phone ME for an update whenever you get this, ok?  Not the hospital, not Mum, and DEFINITELY, not Ali. She won't answer anyway !

If you have an idea of when you're coming home, that would be good.  It will give me time to organise things this end.

That brother, dear, leads me to the next instruction of READ THIS SLOWLY AND DO NOT SHOUT AT ME!!!!!

We have had a... mishap. It happened the night they took Ali in.  The front door was open, and there were ambulance people in all the rush and confusion... Bobs got out.

NOW CALM DOWN!

He's a bright dog. He wouldn't just go off with anyone.  We've put up posters and contacted the police. I phoned every - and I mean EVERY vet and shelter in the book. Nothing. He's just disappeared. I think he's got scared and is hiding somewhere.

Im sorry Tom, really. Don't blame Ali. It was NOT her fault. The only saving grace is that she's been too sick to realise he was gone. If you want to blame anyone, blame me, ok?

Ok. So. There's no point telling you Ali is doing better each day and that they hope she'll be out for you coming back. There's no point saying we will find Bobs, and there's definitely no point telling you not to panic and call to rip me a new one.

But now you know. I didn't want to tell you any of this because it will all be ok by the time you get home. Mum, truly good person that she is, insisted.

We did agree on writing, though.

Take five, brother dear. Read this at least five times, and THEN you can call me.  Don't worry about what time it is.

I love you, Tom, and I'll do everything to make sure it's all ok. I promise..

Em xxxx

Emma's hand shook as she put the pen down. All she could do now was wait.  For Tom to call, for Ali to recover and PLEASE GOD for Bobs to turn up.

As she returned from the postbox, Emma's phone rang.  Her stomach plummeted.  It was the local vet, one of the hundred calls she'd made.  Oh dear God, please.

"Hello? Emma Hiddleston speaking? Please tell me Bobby's been handed in? Please?"

"Miss Hiddleston, yes, it's Claire from Fitpatrick Vets here. We have your dog.  He was handed in about an hour ago. We were just waiting on the microchip records to be sure it was him."

Emma let out a huge sigh, "Oh dear God, thank you. Thank you so so much. I'll come down...."

"Err, Miss Hiddleston? I'm afraid there's a bit of a problem.  We won't be able to let him go home with you. Not yet, anyway." The vet nurse took a beat, and Emma jumped in.

"If you need ID, it's ok, I have plenty.  Not to mention an album full of photos on my phone... " she was interrupted by Claire.

"Ah well, the thing is, well, there's no easy way to say this, Bobby's in surgery now. He broke his leg, it seemed he was trapped in a shed and when he tried to get out, broke a slat and his leg.  The homeowner heard him yelping and found him. They brought him in, and we had to act quickly to save it. I'm so very sorry."

Emma put a hand to her mouth and let out a little 'oh no'.  If she'd thought Tom would be angry before, he'd kill her with his bare hands now.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll come over right away." She hung up and swallowed. Oh well, it's time to call in the big guns.

She picked up her phone again and, with a wince, pressed a contact number. Putting it to her ear, she waited while it rang. Just as she was about to give up, she heard it being picked up.

Jumping in first, "Hi, it's me.  They found Bobby. Yes. Well, that's why I'm calling. He's been injured, and he needs you." She paused, suppressed tears spilling over. "We both do. Please hurry, Mum?"