Alex, why aren’t you answering? Are you okay? I heard a panicked woman’s voice, and it knocked the wind out of me. How does she even know my name? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced around, halfexpecting to see someone with a camera, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The passersby kept walking, oblivious.
I stepped out of the flat block and strolled to work at a relaxed pace, glad I didnt have to sprint to the bus stop and cram myself into a jampacked coach.
Over the past year Id trained myself to wake up at six sharp without an alarm, not because Im in a rush, but just to give myself a quiet walk and soak up a few positive vibes. Id stopped using public transport altogether my job is mostly deskbased, so I could blend a bit of exercise into my commute.
As I passed the stop, a faint ringtone drifted through the city din. It was a simple, almost tinny tone. I turned and saw an oldschool pushbutton phone lying by the shelter the kind you hardly see any more, except perhaps in the hands of retirees who either dont want to tinker with touchscreens or cant afford them.
I was about to walk on, but something made me stop. I picked it up. On the tiny screen, in big letters, read DEAR GRANDMA. Before I could react, the screen switched to a missedcall icon, then rang again a few seconds later. I slapped the green button and held the handset to my ear.
Alex, why arent you answering? Is everything alright? The same frantic voice sounded again. How does she know my name? Is this a joke?
I scanned the area for anyone filming me, but there was no one. Hello? Whos calling? I managed.
A pause, then laboured breathing. Im Evelyn Parker. I was trying to call my grandson and somehow got you. Did I dial the wrong number? Im sorry, I really am.
I was about to explain Id found the phone and ask how to get it back, when she hung up. I was heading toward the glass office tower where I work when the handset buzzed again.
Hello?
Alex? Oh dear, I think Ive messed up again, the voice repeated.
Evelyn, please dont hang up. Im Alex, and I found a phone near the stop. It looks like your grandson dropped it.
I was sure Id saved his number correctly What now? How do I reach my grandson? she sounded flustered.
Im afraid I cant help directly, but I can bring the phone to him. Where are you now?
I checked my watch and realised I couldnt promise to return it straight away; a crucial report was due and a meeting loomed. Im at the office, but Ill sort it out as soon as I can, I said.
She sighed, Im actually out at my cottage in the countryside. I dont know when Ill be back. Ive got a terrible situation theres a cat stuck in a well.
What well? I asked.
My cat fell into the well. I dont know how, but shes crying down there, cant get out, and the covers gone. No neighbours are around everyones gone for the summer. I even forgot to pick up the electric kettle I left behind, and now this
I felt a pang of sympathy. I cant abandon my work, but I wont just leave you there either, I muttered.
Could you give me the cottages address? Ill call the rescue service.
Just then the screen went dark the battery had died. A sleek black car pulled up to the office building. The door opened and a man in his sixties, Ian Spencer, stepped out, his silver hair giving him a distinguished air.
Alex, why are you loitering by the entrance? Come on, lets get to work, Ian said with a grin.
I nodded, but my mind was still on Evelyn and her cat. I tried to focus on the report, but the image of a frail lady worrying about a cat in a well kept looping.
When I finally packed up, I headed for the exit and ran straight into Colin, a colleague whod always seemed a bit jealous of me. Hed been trying to undermine me, hoping Id slip up before the upcoming promotion decision.
Where are you off to in such a hurry? he sneered.
Ive got an emergency, Colin, Ill be back later, I muttered, not wanting to explain.
I rushed out, but there were no taxis. Great, now where am I going? I thought, remembering I didnt even get Evelyns address. Spotting Ians car, I jogged over.
Hey, Ian, any chance you know where the countryside cottages are around here? I asked.
Whats the rush for? Going to get a house? Ian chuckled.
No, its a personal thing. Can you give me a lift? I pleaded.
He hesitated, glancing at his watch, but finally agreed. Well make it, he said.
We drove out of London, past the suburbs, and eventually reached the small gated estate where Evelyns cottage sat. I asked her to wait by the gate while I searched for the well.
Where is it? I called out. Evelyn?
She shouted back, Over here, love! Its by the garden, but I’m scared its too deep.
I knelt by an old stone well, peered down about four metres, not as terrifying as Id imagined. At the bottom, a tiny orange kitten mewed pitifully.
No water in it? I asked.
No, the water ran out a couple of years ago, and the council put in a mains supply, but the wells still there, uncovered. Someone must have tossed the cat in, then stole the metal lid.
I checked for a ladder none. Do you have any rope? I asked.
She thought, then ran to the shed, returning with a thin but sturdy hemp rope.
Back at the well, I tied one end to a nearby fence post, tossed the other end down, and lowered myself cautiously. The rope stretched about ten metres, plenty of slack.
Evelyn, Im going down, I called. Help if you need anything.
She nodded, voice trembling. I slipped into the well, the cool stone walls brushing my legs. The kitten hissed at first, pressed against the wall, but after a few minutes it seemed to trust me. I scooped it up, cradling it gently.
Hang on, little one, I whispered, feeling a surge of relief.
When I started to pull up, the rope suddenly slackened. I lost my footing and slipped back down, landing with a thud.
Alex! Evelyn screamed. Are you alright?
I struggled, managed to regrip, and this time the knot held. I hauled the kitten up, and Evelyn helped lift the little bundle in an old cardboard box shed fetched from the shed.
Is there a baby in there? I asked, noticing the kittens belly was swelling.
Oh dear, shes about to give birth! Evelyn gasped, panic flickering in her eyes.
I quickly made a small nest in the box, placed the kitten inside, and urged Evelyn to hold the rope steady. She tried, but her hands shook. I tossed the other end of the rope back up, and after a few clumsy attempts she finally caught it.
We pulled the box up together. Inside, the mother cat was curled around three tiny, squirming kittens. Evelyns face lit up with relief.
Thank you, Alex, she said, tears in her eyes. Youve saved them all.
I helped her secure the box on the grass, and we discussed a plan to get the kittens to a vet. I promised to bring them some food later.
Back in the car, Ian chuckled, Well, thats one way to start the day.
We drove back to London, and I slipped into the office just in time for the meeting. Ian pulled me aside later.
You really went above and beyond, Alex. Most people wouldve just ignored a stray call. Thats why I think youve got a shot at the senior role. Not everyone would do what you did.
I just did what felt right, I replied, smiling.
The next week I visited Evelyn again, bringing over some cat food and a spare ladder for future emergencies. Her grandson, Jamie, turned out to be a brilliant IT whiz, and we eventually hired him on the spot.
The three kittens grew up fast. I kept one, Ian took another, and Colinwell, Colin got the last one as a cheeky peace offering after he finally stopped trying to sabotage me.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. I still get the occasional call from Evelyn, usually about a stray animal again, and Im always glad to help. After all, any decent person would do the same, right?
