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  1. Volunteering Violet Alone in the office at gone 1am Violet made herself another mug of tea and waited for the next phone call. It was a wet night but mild, and her comfy leggings and cotton fitted top were comfy and warm as she sat in the armchair and put her feet on the coffee table as she sipped her tea. Her thoughts ran, as they often did when she was alone, to her son, seeing flashbacks of him playing in the garden as a toddler, his first day at school, the day he learnt to ride his bike as she cheered him on, the first day she found alcohol in his room, then drugs, and finally the day she found him lying on his bed unresponsive. The last one brought tears to her eyes but also brought the harsh reality of why she was here. She couldn’t save her son but maybe, just maybe, she could help someone else. The pain showed visibly on Violet. Her long think hair which could have made her look young and attractive loosely tied back with grey roots streaking through the various colours she had dyed it over the years to try and hide her secret pain. Her face etched with wrinkles making her look far greater than her 44 years. Comfort eating had grown her thighs and hips to the point she was unrecognisable from the professional woman who had single handedly worked and raised her son. Trauma had a way of ageing people, but through it all there was an inner beauty, a pureness and gentleness that made Violet shine against all odds. Violet had a heart that had room for everyone. Years of loneliness, pain and heartbreak had moulded it to such a place of self sacrifice that the Samaritans celebrated her dedication year after year and just a month preciously she had been national volunteer of the month dedicating her life and soul to preventing suicide. Violet saved lives in ways few ever understood or saw. She committed to be the person she wished her own son had called, viewing her commitment as a way of coping and making amends for past mistakes. She would never give up on anyone. The phone rang again just as Violet finished her tea. The small hours of the nigh often magnifying distress and pain in ways daylight never revealed. Violet listened. She reassured the caller of her presence as often as needed but otherwise said little. She knew people rarely needed answers, not right away anyway, they needed heard. However long that took, that was why she was there. Time moved on and still Violet listened intently and emotionally to the strangers story. So unlike her own but yet so many familiar themes: Neglect, abuse, confusion, guilt, and shame. Violet changed position in the armchair, slipping her trainers off and sliding her legs under her a little, all the time listening and reassuring and comforting. On a pad lying on the arm of the chair Violet scribbled notes. Nothing identifying, just confidential notes to remind her of the call should anything come back to her. Even at 2am protocols mattered, in fact probably more so. As the caller continued to talk Violet poured some water from a nearby jug and sipped at it. Before she knew it her glass was empty and the caller was still talking. Some calls lasted hours and Violet was used to it. You couldn’t hurry peoples thoughts or pain and often many years of stored emotions and stories could pour out in one distressed and long call. Violet sensed this was one such call. Violet glanced at the clock and noted it was 2:45am. Despite having slept much of the day her body clock seemed somehow to know the time should be that of sleeping and she stifled a yawn away from the handset. She also crossed her legs and doodled as she took notes. Still the caller needed to talk and still Violet listened on, giving emotional support and guidance and breathing a sigh of relief as the emotional state of the caller seemed less fragile now and more stable. What had started as an emergency had now calmed to a safer point. Still it would be grossly inappropriate for Violet to end the call, so to remain alert and professional Violet sipped at some more water. Again she found herself with a need to wriggle, as the chair just seemed so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Violet tried sitting to the side, sitting more upright, leaning on her arm...but still things didn’t feel right or settled. Violet assumed tiredness was hitting so she nibbled at a digestive biscuit to raise her sugar levels and sipped more at her water. It wasn’t until 3:30am that Violet realised why she still couldn’t get comfortable, why her legs felt like they had to move a lot, why she was sweating, why she could even hear her heart beating....she really needed to end the call and have a quick visit to the bathroom. But that just wasn’t to be as the tone of the call changed suddenly as Violet heard shouting in the background and worried for the safety of the caller. The caller whispered but remained on the line. Violet stood and paced the room, partly to help hold her bladder at bay and partly with the stress of the situation at the other end of the line, over which she had no control. She quietly but clearly informed the caller of what to do If their safety was in jeopardy. She reassured her over and over that she would be safe, the police would come or, if needed, an ambulance and she would be protected. Finally the shouting stopped and Violet tried to get vital information out of the caller, gently and cautiously so as not to freak her out. Violet picked up the notebook and leaned on a shelf to update the log of the call. It was now almost 4am and the caller had been on the phone hours. Violet crossed her legs, acutely aware of her body yearning for a break but adamant it would have to wait. The safety of the caller was much more important right now. Violet sat on the edge of the armchair wriggling. She waited for an opportunity to bring the call to a natural end but as the caller talked on and on Violet struggled. Volunteering in this role came with more sacrifices than just missed sleep and holding your bladder was one Violet was used to now. She sat on her foot, paced the room again, sat down crossed legged, Bounced her knee and moved around continuously. Finally the caller yawned and Violet took the chance to draw the mostly one sided conversation to a close. Maybe the caller was never lightly to have taken her life tonight or maybe she just needed to offload to a stranger, but that was Violet’s role and she did it brilliantly. Violet had to stand up. Her body felt so full, so heavy, so stretched, as she danced on the spot as she wished her caller a good nights sleep and thanked her for her bravery in phoning. Violet wrote the last few notes with one hand holding the pen and the other tight between her legs. Now off the phone the urgency to pee hit hard and strong. All that tea and water had to get out and get out now. Violet placed the note pad down and rushed out the office. It was more of a small flat than a traditional office and Violet looked frantically for the light switch to the bathroom as she rubbed her thighs urgently. Seeing the toilet she shuffled with one hand between her legs as her need to go exponentially increased. It was the middle of the night when her body ought to be sleeping yet instead it was working overtime preventing her from wetting herself. Violet was sweating as she tugged at the waistband of her leggings. What was that noise? No! It couldn’t be! Violet only needed a few minutes to pee, just enough time to release the pressure..,yet here she was seconds away from allowing her body the liberty of letting go but having to stop before she’d even started to return to the phone in the office. Violet momentarily paused, her need horrendous but what if by not answering that call it would cost a life? What if her own son had called to get no answer? The latter was too compelling as Violet gave up all thoughts of peeing and rushed back to the office to answer the phone. It took seconds for Violet to realise this caller was either high or drunk. She perched over the arm of the armchair, pressing down on the hard wooden arm hoping the pressure would help keep her bladder at bay. She rocked back and forth as a wave of pressure pressed down. She stood up and paced the room again, then quickly sat on the armchair and squeezed every muscle she had. This call was different. She couldn’t stress enough to the caller that she wasn’t Cara and she most certainly hadn’t been sleeping with his best friend. It might have been comical had Violet not been so absolutely and desperately in need of the bathroom. For the first time Violet considered hanging up on the caller. He’d never recall it and it really was an emergency. But he wasn’t for letting up. And neither was Violet’s bladder. Violet grabbed a cushion and pressed it between her legs and tried rocking. That helped slightly and it was sending tingles through her body, but she feared soaking it. She stood crossed legged but that wasn’t helping either. With her options running out fast and the drunk caller winding her up more and more Violet scanned the room for anything she could possibly use. Her eyes rested on a waste paper basket and she reached over and grabbed it. It was small, solid plastic and basic with a few uses tissues in the bottom. With the phone in one hand Violet said a few words, just enough so her caller knew she was still there, and with her other hand she struggled to pull down her leggings and pants. She couldn’t take this any longer. It was unbearable. With her leggings at her knees and her pants on top Violet listened to the drunk talk rubbish as she hovered over the waste paper basket and tried staying still. Despite her whole body throbbing with need it took almost 30 seconds before anything would leave Violet’s body. But when it did it wasn’t for stopping as pee foamed and cascaded from Violet’s body into the bin, pudding round everywhere and a fair bit of it missing and landing on the carpet. Violet just couldn’t stop though. The caller called Violet more names then hung up, oblivious entirely to what the Samaritans volunteer had been doing while he called her. Ashamed, but massively relieved, Violet poured the contents of the bin down the toilet and flushed. She dried her legs with toilet roll, washed her hands, pulled her clothes up and then cleaned the carpet. She looked at the trophy sitting on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Volunteer of the month: August 2020: Violet Brown’ ‘Taking volunteering to the next level and showing determination and ingenuity in all you face.’ Violet laughed. Tonight would be another one of those shifts she would remember, though maybe not one she would talk about to anyone else.
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