A reverse-charge message came to my mobile from my regular
interlocutor Karly. I knew not to reply to this – the last time it cost me £4 –
so I called her directly instead. ‘Father, can you call me a taxi? I’m at the
church and need to get to my mum’s and haven’t got any credit on my phone’. I called
the taxi company she suggested. ‘It’s not for me, but for a lady called Karly
Talbot’, I said. ‘Ah, this is the same person we tried to pick up half an hour
ago,’ said the man on the other end of the line. ‘She was supposed to be going
to no.6 Larkspur Road. My driver waited around for ten minutes but couldn’t
find her. I can send someone else, but she’ll have to pay for the first callout
as well as the second.’ I related this information. ‘But I haven’t called a
taxi today!’ Karly protested. It is not my habit to probe into people’s stories
– I’ve learned it’s pointless – but just out of curiosity I couldn’t resist
asking, ‘So how did the man at the taxi firm recognise your name straight away,
and know where you wanted to go?’ ‘I don’t know. That’s scary!’ she answered.
It’s not just scary, I thought, it’s bloody miraculous. There may be complex
and involved explanations involving unknown third parties, but I didn’t have
the energy to get into them. Of course I ended up taking her to her mum’s.
Wednesday, 24 May 2017
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