Bill jumped up in bed. A deep sleep had been intruded by what he was sure was the sound of a police car or ambulance or something.
He stared blankly around the room. Slowly it all came back to him. He was in Tuckamore Bay. And the sirens he thought he heard was actually the telephone, in the living room.
Bill swung his legs out of the bed and grabbed the sweat pants that lay at the foot of the bed.
The telephone continued to ring.
"I'm coming. Fuck, give me a second."
Bill pulled the sweat pants up and hurried to the living room. As soon as his hand touched the receiver, the telephone stopped ringing.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Bill picked up the telephone receiver. All he heard was a dial tone.
"Shit." He hung the telephone up again and headed to the bathroom.
He was half way through relieving himself, when the telephone started ringing again.
"Seriously?" he yelled, trying to stop the stream of urine, with no success.
"Just hold on."
He continued to pee. He laughed slightly as the image of Tom Hanks, in the movie 'A League of their Own', came to him.
"Eat your heart out Tom."
The telephone continued to ring.
"I'm coming."
He gave a final shake and flushed the toilet. He headed for the telephone without washing his hands, but once again, it stopped ringing the second he touched the receiver.
"Son of a bitch," Bill cracked as he headed back to the bathroom to wash his hands.
"Of course," he rolled his eyes. The telephone started to ring as soon as he got his hands soaped.
"You can fucking wait."
Bill finished soaping his hands, rinsed them and dried them, before walking to the telephone for the third time.
This time the telephone did not stop.
"Hello," Bill sighed, putting the receiver to his ear.
"Ah. Is that you, Mr. Williams?"
Bill recognized the voice.
"Mr. Wells. Yes, its me."
"Oh. I thought Matty would answer the phone. This is her number, isn't it?
I have been trying hers and then your cell, but no answer from either."
"Cell receptions sucks here and Matty is staying in the guest cottage. She let me stay in the main house."
"Oh. Okay. So you getting all settled in?"
Bill thought for a moment.
"I don't know about being settled in Mr. Wells."
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
