The Good Samaritan by John Marrs EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: John Marrs
- Language: English
- Genre: Psychological Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
FOUR MONTHS AFTER DAVID
I heard their muffled chatter as I made my way up the staircase and towards
the door.
Inside End of the Line’s call room, I counted five heads, all sitting in
their individual booths. Some propped themselves up on their elbows as
they sat listening to callers through their headsets; others casually leaned
back in their chairs with receivers held to their ears. One doodled triangles
in a newspaper crossword grid.
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I was early for my shift and waved cheerfully at Kevin and Zoe, who
were listening to their respective callers. I pointed to the cake tin under my
arm then towards the kitchen. Mary, the eldest of the volunteers at the
charity, sat in a corner booth at the front, her knitting needles moving
almost silently at full throttle as she spoke into a headset. Today’s colour of
wool was as grey as the hair on her head.
I made my way into the poor excuse for a kitchenette and placed my
lunchbox with the remains of last night’s pasta bake inside the fridge. I
tossed away the mounting number of out-of-date plastic milk bottles and
removed the lid from the cake tin so that everyone could help themselves to
my freshly iced cupcakes. There were more than enough for the afternoon
shifts to enjoy; any that remained could be shared by those on evenings and
nights.
I opened the sash window to allow some fresh May air in and the stale
second-floor funk out. Then, back inside the call room, I plucked my
notebook from my bag and sought out my favoured booth at the back. Our
desks hadn’t been officially allocated to us, so we couldn’t stake a claim on
one over another. But there was an unspoken hierarchy that said those
who’d worked there for longer should be allowed the spot they felt the most
comfortable in. I opted for the most private spot, by the boarded-up
Victorian fireplace. There, behind the partition, my soft, calming telephone
voice couldn’t be heard anywhere else in the room. Not that we ever
admitted to listening in to each other’s calls, but it’s normal to be nosy once
in a while.
For four and a half years I’d stared through the very same window
across the rooftops of Northampton town centre, and wondered who might
be the first person I’d lift my receiver to today. The later – evening – shift
was usually when things became more interesting. For the more vulnerable
out there, once the darkness falls, so do their barriers. Night-time is their
enemy, because with fewer visible distractions there’s more opportunity to
dwell on how hopeless their lives have become. It’s when they reach out for
somebody’s hand.
We are supposed to treat every caller the same way, with kindness,
respect and professionalism. Being listened to makes them feel valued, but
it’s unrealistic to think you can help – or even like – them all. Once they
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