Emma hurried home. The clock had already struck almost ten in the evening, and she yearned to reach her flat, eat a simple supper and collapse onto the bed. The day had been exhausting. Her husband was already there, dinner was waiting, and their twelveyearold son, James, was fed.
Emma worked in a tiny hair salon, and today she was on the night shift. After closing, she tidied the workstation, set the alarm, locked the doorand lingered a moment longer.
The route home passed a little garden square. By day it was a quiet spot where pensioners perched on the benches; by night it was empty, though the street lamps threw a soft glow, keeping the place from feeling hostile.
Tonight, however, one bench was not empty. Huddled together sat two childrena boy about nine or ten and a little girl who could not have been older than five. Emma slowed her step and approached.
Why are you out here alone? Its late! Lets go home, she said.
The boy looked at her, gently brushed the girls hair and hugged her tighter.
We have nowhere to go. Our stepfather chased us out, he whispered.
And wheres your mother?
With him. Drunk.
Emma did not pause.
Come with me. Well sort things out tomorrow.
The children rose slowly. Emma took the girl, who was called Poppy, by the hand and offered the boy, Harry, her arm.
She led them to her flat, explained everything to Mark and James. Knowing Emmas generous heart, they asked no questionsjust showed the children where to wash up and set a place at the table. Hungry but shy, the kids ate everything they were given.
Later Emma visited their neighbour, Mrs. Patel, whose daughter was in Year1, and asked for a few pieces of clothing for Poppy. They gathered a modest pile; after all, families tend to have surplus after children grow out of things.
Emma bathed Poppy, dressed her in clean clothes. Harry washed himself, and they found a few handmedowns for him too. The children fell asleep on the sofa in the sitting room, Poppy clinging to her brother, who held her close.
Full and exhausted, the youngsters soon drifted off on a fresh sheet. Emma sent James to his room and lingered with Mark in the kitchen, talking quietly about what to do next.
At dawn she rose early, escorted Mark to work. She still had an afternoon shift to cover. The children awoke, she fed them, packed their freshly laundered clothes into a bag, and set off to return them.
They escorted her to a house that stood right next door. The flat on the third floor stood ajar. The children stepped inside and froze in the hallway.
Emma halted beside them. She longed to look the woman standing there straight in the eyes and ask what had haunted her through the night while her children were left alone, unknown.
From a bedroom emerged a gaunt young woman with a large mole under one eye. She glanced indifferently at the children and said, Ah Theyve arrived And whos this?
Thats Aunt Emma. We stayed with her, the boy replied.
The woman mumbled, Well, alright, and, as if nothing had happened, slipped back into the room. Emma stared, stunned. Was this their mother?
Then the woman turned back to Emma. Come to the kitchen, well talk.
Emma followed. Despite the modest flat, everything gleamed with cleanliness. Dishes were put away, the floor shone, belongings were in order. Even her own old, buttonless dressing gown looked spotless. Sit, the woman instructed, pointing to a chair.
Emma seated herself. The woman perched opposite, her eye puffy, and asked, Do you have children?
Yes, a son, hes twelve, Emma answered.
Listen If anything happens to me, please dont abandon my children, okay? Theyre innocent.
You intend to leave them? Emma asked, bewildered.
I cant any longer. Ive tried to stop but it wont work. He, she nodded toward the bedroom where a loud snore echoed, Ive gone to the police. He sits for a few days, then returns, worse. I cant quit the drink; Im drinking every day. He throws the kids out the door. They arent his.
Wheres the father?
He drowned when Poppy was only a year old. Ive been on my own since.
You work?
I mop the floor in a shop. Got sacked last week for constant absences.
And the man?
He does odd jobs now and then. We scrape by
She fell silent, then spoke again, If anything happens, I beg youdont leave them. Youre kind. If you cant keep them, take them to a childrens home, please.
Emma rose, her mind refusing to accept the torrent of words. It felt like a bizarre dream. The children came forward, both hugging her. Tears welled in Emmas eyes; she dabbed them away with her sleeve and told Harry where she could be found.
She stepped out onto the street, letting the tears fall like rain, drawing curious glances from passersby. That evening she recounted everything to Mark. He asked nothing, simply promised that they would never abandon the children. James, hearing his parents speak, came over and embraced them both. They sat together in the kitchen, quiet, arms around each other.
Three days later Harry burst in, panic painted on his face. Mums vanished, the stepfathers been taken by police. Poppys with the neighbour now, but theyll be taken to a childrens home today. He spoke feverishly and raced back to his sister. That very day the authorities did indeed move the children into care.
The following morning the childrens mother was found in the river, dead by violence. It seemed she had foreseen her fate and therefore begged Emma for help.
Emma and Mark began navigating the bureaucracy to gain guardianship of the youngsters. No relatives could be traced for Harry and Poppy, and after thorough checksbolstered by Emmas recounting of that nights conversationthe council granted them custody.
Emma left her job. Poppy was terrified, clinging to her brother at all times. Even when a spoon fell from the table, she stared at Mark as if awaiting punishment.
It took great effort to win her trust. Harry, being older, soon realised that this household posed no dangerno pain, no fear.
Gradually Poppy opened up. She approached Emma confidently, played with James, smiled and talked, though she still kept a slight wariness of Mark. The fear of adult men ran deep, but Mark treated her gently, with utmost caution. He had always dreamed of having a daughter, yet Emmas health no longer allowed her to bear more children. The day he returned from a threeday work trip, Emma and Poppy went out to meet him. He turned, extended his arms toward the girl.
Poppy stepped forward and hugged his neck. He lifted her, and together they entered the kitchen. Seeing Poppys bright grin, the boys arrived, then Emma. Everyone embraced. They stood there, silent, hearts warm.
In this new family, at last, everything felt right.
