Id agreed to mind the neighbours daughter for the weekend, but it didnt take long to sense that something was off about the child.
Of course, well be a handful, I said with a breezy confidence, eyeing the new neighbour who stood on the doorstep in a coat buttoned up to her chin.
She tugged a stray lock into a tight bun with a nervous flick of the hand. Between her eyebrows a deep line of worry etched itself, her thin lips set firm.
Beside her stood the girl: tiny, pallid, with enormous eyes that seemed to carry an ancient fatigue, utterly out of place on such a young face.
Thank you ever so much, Anne, the neighbour intoned in an even, rehearsed tone. Ill be back on Sunday evening. You dont need to watch Pippa especially; shes exceedingly obedient.
The phrase felt as artificial as a puppytraining command rather than genuine parenting advice.
A prickle of unease the sort of intuition that rarely lets me down fluttered inside.
Well get along just fine, I smiled, despite the knot tightening in my chest. I hope your mother feels better soon.
Thanks, the woman replied dryly, handing me a worn sack. Her things are in here. Minimal, but everything shell need.
The bag was surprisingly light barely enough for two days. The girl stood motionless, eyes glued to the floor, flinching only when her mother leaned toward her.
Behave yourself. Dont cause Anne any trouble, the neighbour snapped. Her voice was more suited to ordering subordinates than to a child.
Pippa gave a silent nod. No I love you, no parting caress.
The woman turned and walked straight to a waiting black cab, not looking back.
Come on, Pippa, I said, gently touching her shoulder as if I might crumble her. Let me introduce you to Marmalade my ginger feline friend.
The little girl slipped almost unnoticed into the hallway, as if afraid to leave a footprint. Marmalade, who usually regarded the house as his fortress, padded in, sniffed her tiny shoes and rubbed demonstratively against his legs.
Looks like youve made a good impression, I remarked, halfamused. He usually holds auditions before letting anyone into his domain.
Pippa settled down and stroked the cat cautiously. When Marmalade started his soft purrsong, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. For a moment she seemed just a child, not a miniature spectre.
While I whirred up a simple dinner, I stole glances at them. Pippa whispered something into Marmalades orange ear, and the cat listened with the indulgent air of royalty. My heart tightened; another child’s face flashed through my mind, another pair of eyes
Five years ago my niece vanished as if shed dissolved into thin air. She fell out of a pram while her mother was on the phone. Endless searches, deadend leads. Two years later my sister died in a car crash. The wound never healed. Even now I dream of those small hands reaching up from the darkness.
Would you like ginger tea with a slice of orange? I asked, trying to chase the memories away.
She nodded, eyes fixed on the kitchen counter.
Please, she whispered barely audible.
Dinner unfolded like a strange choreography I tried to keep conversation flowing while she ate gingerly, as if on a covert mission.
What stories do you like? I asked once her plate was empty.
I dont know, she replied after a pause. Mum says books are a waste of time.
Something tightened inside me. Could a mother really say that?
Through the open window drifted the scent of lavender from my garden and the distant giggle of children from the next street. Pippa turned toward the sound, a flicker of longing in her gaze.
Fancy a walk? I offered.
She shook her head.
Mum wont allow it.
Again the word Mum floated in the air, spoken by a woman whod left her daughter with a nearstranger and vanished without a backward glance.
I studied Pippas delicate profile, the slumped shoulders there was something eerily familiar in those features, a pang echoing in my chest.
Before bed I tucked her into the spare bedroom. The windows opened onto the garden, curtains fluttering in a gentle breeze.
Pippa stood in the centre of the room, a comb in her hand the only personal item from the sack.
Need a hand? I asked, nodding toward the tangled hair.
She handed me the comb hesitantly. I started to detangle, careful not to pull. Her hair was brittle, dry. She closed her eyes, a faint tremor rippling through her as I brushed the scalp.
All done, I whispered. Lie down; Ill keep you company until you fall asleep.
Really? You wont just leave?
Of course not. Im right here.
She curled up under the duvet. Marmalade leapt onto the bed, settling beside her. She placed a tentative hand on his fur.
I stared at her halflit face and couldnt shake the feeling Id seen that jawline before
Maybe it was just a mind game, a lingering ache from the past seeping into the present?
Moonlight filtered through the curtains, spilling silver across the walls. From the window came the chirp of crickets.
A certainty grew: something wasnt right, and I was obliged to find out what.
Pippa, breakfast! I called, laying out plates on the kitchen table.
The girl appeared in the doorway, dressed in yesterdays clothes, hair neatly combed, face clean all done by herself, without disturbing me. Remarkably independent for a sevenyearold.
Would you like some orange juice? I asked, pointing at a glass.
She looked at it as if it were the first thing shed ever seen.
May I? she whispered.
Certainly, I said with a smile, masking my nerves. And pancakes with jam, if you like.
She perched on the edge of a chair, eyes glued to the plate, but didnt start eating.
Dont wait for me, just begin, I encouraged gently.
Pippa picked up a fork, broke off a bite, and put it in her mouth. A fleeting gleam of pleasure crossed her features before being replaced by her usual guardedness.
Tasty? I asked, sitting opposite her.
She nodded without looking up.
Very, she whispered, as if confessing a guilty pleasure.
After breakfast I fetched an album, paints, and markers.
Shall we draw? I suggested.
Pippa eyed the coloured pencils like they were priceless gems.
I cant she murmured apologetically.
Its fine. Draw whatever you like. Maybe Marmalade?
She took a pencil tentatively. I pretended to tidy up the kitchen but kept an eye on her.
Her strokes grew bolder, yet the picture turned out odd: a dark house with barred windows and a tiny figure inside.
My chest tightened. I stepped closer.
Nice house, I said softly. Is it yours?
She flinched, flipped the page quickly.
No, I just made it up, she stammered. Can I draw Marmalade now?
Please do.
While she sketched the cat, I slipped onto my phone and typed missing children last five years followed by Pippa. Thousands of results scrolled by. How many children vanished?
When she finally handed me the drawing, a genuine smile lit her face for the first time.
It looks just like him, I praised. You have a talent.
She beamed.
The day passed calmly. We ate, strolled around the garden, read together. Pippa gradually opened up, even laughed. Yet the moment I mentioned mum or home, she shut down instantly.
Later, I drew a warm bath, bubbles, a few toys.
Ready! I called. Come, Ill help you.
Pippa padded into the bathroom, eyes wide at the water.
Bubbles she whispered. Like clouds.
Right, beautiful, isnt it? Let me help wash your hair.
She splashed about, slowly relaxing. I lathered her hair, trying not to reveal the tremor inside me. On her shoulders were faint, old scars.
When it was time to rinse, I tilted her head back and froze. Just above the hairline was a birthmark three thin stripes, as if painted with a brush.
Exactly the same mark my niece had.
Everything okay? Pippa asked, noticing my stare.
No, nothing just checking the water didnt get in your ears.
Its fine.
My mind whirled. Coincidence? Or something else?
Good night, I whispered, pulling the blanket over her.
Good night, she replied, then added, Thank you for being kind.
She fell asleep quickly. I rushed to my laptop, fingers shaking as I typed my password. Old photographs loaded my sister with a tiny Pippa, a picture of a oneyearold with the same birthmark on her back, and another of a twoyearold grinning at the camera, the same splitcolored iris.
The doubts vanished. The girl sleeping in the guest room was my niece, the one abducted five years ago.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp. What now? Call the police? What if the neighbour returned early and took Pippa away again?
The next morning the house greeted us with a quiet that felt oddly soothing. For the first time in years I awoke not to haunting memories but to the soft breathing of a child beside me. Pippa slept soundly, curled around Marmalade, a hand resting on his fur. Her face was relaxed, as if shed finally allowed herself to trust the world.
I rose carefully, not to rouse them, and headed to the kitchen. The air was fragrant with cinnamon, butter, and warm milk. The day promised brightness. I threw open the window; fresh air filled the kitchen with a hint of mint, roses, and that indefinable feeling of home.
When Pippa stirred, she watched me from the kitchen doorway, clutching her new feline companion. I beckoned with my hand.
Come on, kitty. Weve got a full day ahead. We need to pick out new clothes for you, pop over to the doctor, and if you like, we can start a photo album together to remember all the good things to come.
Pippa slipped into a chair, a shy smile forming. Can I have a picture with you and Marmalade?
Of course. And with the blue modelling clay, and whatever else you fancy. Well make new memories.
We ate, laughed, and painted. I even taught her to bake simple biscuits she rolled the dough into balls, decorating each with a tiny raisin. Every action echoed something lost and now found.
Later that evening I called social services to arrange formal guardianship. All paperwork would be sorted with a solicitor. Pippa looked at me and asked, Does this mean Ill stay here?
Yes, love, I said. Youre home now. Forever.
She leaned into me, the silence between us comfortable, like the calm after a storm.
Weeks passed. Life settled. Pippa attended a therapist, drew countless cats and red swings, chose a new school, fed Marmalade each morning, baked pies with me, and even remembered the doctors name wed visited together.
One afternoon, walking home, she stopped by the old playground swings that still stood in our back garden. She turned to me and said, I remember how you held me so I wouldnt fall.
I nodded, not daring to trust the voice fully. She took my fingers in hers and whispered, Thank you for finding me.
And I understood despite all the loss, the pain, the fear she had returned. My niece, my little light, never truly extinguished, only hidden in fog.
In the garden daisies blossomed, Marmalade chased butterflies, and we sat on a bench sketching. Two souls, both scarred, learning to believe in love again.
Pippa no longer feared darkness, because she knew this house would always have light and warm hands to protect her.
And I knew I would never let anyone take her away again. Sometimes miracles happen, and you just have to have the courage to believe in them.
