Short story: To the Rescue!

This was no time for a newcomer to be held back by shyness. Help was needed – and fast

The poor thing wouldn’t survive without shelter

Iwas retrieving a parcel from my eldest daughter, Yvonne, that the postman had hidden by the back gate, when I spotted it.

I gasped and my heart thudded. Clasping my hands together,

I inhaled. ‘Pull yourself together, Maureen,’ I said out loud. ‘It’s only a hedgehog.’

The bundle of spikes was wedged into a piece of plastic pipe that emerged from the ground midway up my garden path. Having only moved in two weeks earlier, I hadn’t noticed the piping before, although I knew from the solicitor’s moving documents that it was designed to dispel radon gas away from the house. Apparently, Devon has a high concentration of radon, whatever that means.

Although the weather was surprisingly mild, the hedgehog should have been hibernating, but it was clearly stuck and had no way of climbing out of the pipe or even turning around.

I was flooded with guilt. I should have put a grill on the pipe as soon as I moved in. Billy would have done. Household maintenance had always been Billy’s remit, but despite it being 18 months since he’d passed away, I still hadn’t developed a flair for it. I doubted I ever would.

I couldn’t leave it there to suffer. But how I was going to get it out? If I put a stick down one side of the pipe to lever the hedgehog out, I might hurt it, or do more damage if it was already injured.

What I needed was advice. But I didn’t need fingers or toes to count how many people I knew in the village – it was a resounding zero.

‘Are you sure you want to move there, Mum?’ Yvonne had asked after I told her and my youngest, Val, that I’d made an offer on this house. Yvonne’s glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and she was looking at me as if my brain was temporarily on holiday.

‘I miss the countryside, and it’s the place I grew up. There’ll be someone in the village I recognise.’

‘I know you loved growing up there, Mum, but that was a long time ago. Things have changed.’

I sighed. Being mothered by my own daughters was an interesting novelty.

‘There’s always a place with us in London,’ Yvonne said.

‘Or with us in Manchester,’ Val quickly chipped in.

And there was the problem. Yvonne wanted me in London to help with the grandkids, and Val wanted me to do the same in Manchester.

Torn between the two, I’d chosen neither. I hated the traffic, the noise and the constant business of cities.

I wanted clean air, a garden and a community. To pacify my daughters, I had bought a modern house that was too big for me, but the girls and their families would fit in during the holidays.

Now, I wondered about the wisdom of my decision. The village had grown since my youth, and so far

I hadn’t seen a single familiar face. The neighbours were welcoming – one had even left a bottle of wine on my doorstep – but I was shy by nature and, after so many years of marriage, I felt ill-equipped to socialise without Billy.

I took a deep breath. The hedgehog needed me to act. The temperature would plummet soon, and the poor thing wouldn’t survive without shelter.

After propping open the back gate, I knocked on next door. Nothing. I rapped again, just in case Sheila was in the garden. I peered subtly through the windows before giving up. I tried the neighbours on the other side, with no luck. But I wasn’t a quitter. Despite a few minor technical issues, I managed to find the village’s ‘spotted’ page on social media, and to post a message with an accompanying snap…

‘Found a hedgehog in my radon pipe. Still breathing. Any ideas how to get him out?’

Within a few minutes, my phone pinged and a lady by the name of Judith replied…

‘Where do you live? I can pop round.’

There was a flurry of similar messages, all offering help.

Like everyone, I’d been raised never to talk to strangers, and I guess the

adage should be extended to giving out your address on social media. Nevertheless, this was an emergency.

I had a special affinity for hedgehogs, as they’d helped bring Billy and me together many years previously.

I’d been a legal secretary back then, and one morning on my way to work, a man had called out to me.

‘Excuse me, miss, I don’t suppose you could do me a tremendous favour?’

He had floppy black hair and the straightest, whitest teeth I’d ever seen. My heart fluttered while I waited for him to go on.

‘We’re knocking down this house and I found a hedgehog with her pups. They need somewhere safe and warm. I’d take them home myself, but the boss can’t spare me.’

My own boss was none too pleased when I arrived and put the mother and her hoglets in the corner of the office.

‘They’re full of fleas,’ he kept muttering, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t get Billy’s smile out of my mind.

We were married four months later, and any time Billy and I saw a hedgehog in our garden, we’d reminisce over how we’d met.

This was the first hedgehog I’d seen since Billy had died. It almost felt as though he’d sent it, to shake me out of my sadness.

Without further thought, I replied to all the messages of help with my address and the smiley face emoji the grandkids had shown me how to add.

I scarcely had time to take a sip of nerve-settling tea, when Judith turned up, followed by an army of helpers.

Judith’s knees clicked as she crouched down to peer inside the pipe. ‘Yep, you’re definitely stuck. And there’s only one way I can get you out.’

Judith donned two pairs of woollen gloves and topped them with thick garden gloves. There was something familiar about her, I realised, but I brushed these thoughts aside as everyone sprang into action. A sturdy cardboard box filled with hay appeared, a saucer for water, a can of dog food and an old towel.

Judith reached slowly down into the hole.

I wanted to turn away, but I forced myself to watch. Judith bit her bottom lip, and intermittently let out tiny yelps of pain. With her hand down the pipe, Judith had to rely on touch.

‘I think I’ve got him… slowly now. It’s all right, little fella…’

Carefully, she placed it into the box. The hedgehog immediately curled up into a ball, and didn’t move again. There was only the slightest quiver of its frame to show that it was still alive.

‘Do you think it’ll be OK?’ I asked Judith.

She shrugged. ‘We can only hope. I’ll give the hedgehog rescue centre a ring and see if they can pick him up. It’s the warm weather that woke him. He must have been foraging for food. Their body fat really drops this time of year. I wonder where his hibernaculum is.’ ‘Pardon?’ ‘Sorry, his nest.’ While Judith was busy on the phone, I chatted with some of the other helpers. ‘Judith knows a lot about hedgehogs,’ I said.

‘We all do,’ said a bespectacled lady with white hair and a dramatic fringe. ‘We’re the “Hog Spotters”. You should join us. Have you lived here long? I haven’t seen you about…’

‘Only about two weeks.

I’m originally from Devon, I grew…’

‘Maureen Walters!’ Judith had finished speaking on the phone. ‘I thought there was something familiar about you.’

‘Judith Chambers!’ An image of nine-year-old

Judith with blonde, pigtailed hair and scraped knees came back to me.

‘Chambers! I haven’t been called that since 1971. I’m Thompson now, although my Fred died a good 10 years ago. Howsabout you put the kettle on, and we have a good chat while we wait for the rescue team? They said they’d be a couple of hours. You’re not busy, are you?’

I shook my head.

A week or so later, Judith popped round.

‘After antibiotics, a good wash and feed, Millie’s doing fine. They’ll keep her for the rest of the winter.’

‘Millie?’ I asked.

‘Yep. I named her. She’s big for a girl, so that’s why I thought she was a boy.’

‘When Millie is better, they’ll release her near here. You might get to see her again if you’re lucky,’

Judith continued.

And I did.

It was the beginning of June, and Val, Yvonne and I were relaxing in the garden after an exhausting day at the beach with the children. The sun had just set, and the sky was grey with patches of pinky-red. Something made me look over to the garden path, and there, by the now-covered radon pipe, was Millie.

‘Look, it’s Millie,’ I said, ‘And she’s got babies!’ Three small hoglets were crowded behind her, packed so tightly together they were almost touching Millie’s bottom.

Millie gazed intently at me. ‘Quick, get a photo.

For Judith.’

Val snapped a shot on her phone, before Millie scampered away, her youngsters in tow.

Yvonne screwed up her face. ‘How do you know it’s Millie, and not some other hedgehog?’

‘I just do. Your father sent her – although he probably didn’t mean for her to get stuck in the pipe – but he did send her.’

The girls smiled. They were humouring me, but it didn’t matter. I knew the truth.

‘Did I tell you how I met your father?’ I asked.

Yvonne and Val laughed. ‘Yes, you did,’ Val said.

‘But I’d like to hear it again.’

After I recounted the tale, Yvonne said, ‘You know I had my reservations about you moving here, but I’m glad you did. You seem happy, Mum.’

And I was. I missed Billy, but I had Judith and the Hog Spotters for company, plus a new cause – raising the numbers of hedgehogs in the wild.

Living here was going to be fine.

THE END

Jo Cole, 2021

I couldn’t get Billy’s smile out of my mind