LILY HARPER had raised her boy alone. Her husband, a reckless drifter, vanished the very night their son was born, and the divorce left her pennilessher ex never paid a cent of maintenance. The only lifeline was her own father, ARTHUR HARPER, who stepped in to care for Oliver and keep the roof over their heads. Lily could not imagine how she would have survived without him.
When the papers were signed, money dried up fast. With no child benefit and a deadbeat ex, Lily was forced to find work. One evening, Arthur, sighing, said,
Right then, love, youve got to get a job. George and I will look after Oliver. Dont worry, well manage.
So Oliver spent his days with his granddad. Lily felt a sting of jealousy; the boy clung to Arthur as if he were his whole world, while she was away all day, exhausted from long shifts.
One crisp morning, as Lily hurried to the factory, Oliver burst into the kitchen, his eyes bright.
Granddad says were off to pick mushrooms today! Isnt that grand?
Lily turned to her father.
Is that so, Dad? Where are you heading?
Out to Ashby Forest, Arthur replied, a grin cracking his weathered face. They say the porcini are out in force.
Arthur had been a devoted mushroom hunter and fisherman since his youth, and hed been passing the trade onto his grandson for years. Lily shrugged and said, Just get back before it gets dark, alright?
Arthur winked. Well be back with a couple of buckets, then straight home, wont we, Oliver?
The bus took them to the edge of town, and from there they trekked on foot. Ashby Forest began just beyond the outskirts, a short walk even for a sevenyearold. They hadnt gone far when a ruststreaked pickup screeched to a halt beside them.
Oi, George! Off to the woods again? the driver called, recognizing the familiar face.
Arthur laughed, Heard the mushrooms are ripe, mate.
The driver, NIGEL BARNES, a longtime family friend, replied, Mushrooms here? Theyve been stripped clean. Head over to Turlington Wood, thats where the real harvest is. Im heading that wayhop in if you like.
Give us a lift, would you? Arthur asked.
Nigel pulled them out near the edge of Turlington Wood, agreeing that if they couldnt get back theyd phone him for a ride.
Oliver wandered through the trees, chattering away, his granddad answering every curious question with patience and stories that made the old man seem a walking encyclopedia. The forest was thick with fungi, and the pair pressed deeper, chasing the promise of a bountiful find.
Suddenly, Arthurs arms flailed uselessly and he collapsed onto the carpet of leaves.
Oliver stared, then rushed to his side. Granddad, you alright?
His grandfather lay motionless, eyes glazed. Panic rose like a tide. Oliver mustered all his strength, rolled Arthur onto his back, and shook him as hard as he could. Get up, Grandpa! Please! he shouted, his voice cracking.
Night fell, and Lily, frantic, raced home only to find the house empty. She dialed Arthurs number, but the signal was dead. Did they not get back from the forest? she whispered, heart thudding. An hour later her dread turned to terror; she stormed into the local police station, pleading with the officer on duty, My son and his granddad are missing! They went into the woods and havent returned!
The constable, seeing the raw fear in her eyes, immediately summoned the volunteer search team. Within two hours the first group, alongside Lilywho refused to sit and waitstormed into Ashby Forest, flashlights cutting through the gloom.
Olivers small voice echoed, sobbing, Granddad, please! Dont leave me! He forced himself to breathe, whispering, Stay calm, love. Granddad taught us not to panic. He slapped his own cheek, steadied his breathing, and pressed his ear to Arthurs chest. A faint rise and fall told him the old man still drew breath.
Hes breathing, Oliver muttered, relief washing over him like warm water. He tried the phone againno signal. He settled on a fallen log, gripping his granddads arm, and waited.
The darkness deepened, and fear gnawed at him. Remembering Arthurs lessons on surviving in the wild, Oliver fumbled for his lighter, gathered dry twigs, and coaxed a spark. The fire sputtered, then roared to life. He fed it with pine needles, piling logs until the flames hungrily licked the night sky. Well keep warm, he told himself, just like Granddad showed us.
He wrapped a thick blanket around both of them, his small shoulders trembling as he whispered stories to keep his mind occupied. When the fire flickered low, Oliver scooped a halffilled thermos of water, tipped it into Arthurs mouth, and felt the old mans throat swell with each swallow.
A splash of red berries caught his eyea bush of wild hawthorn. Dont eat those, he recalled Arthurs warning. Theyre for decoration, not for feeding. He gathered the berries anyway, intending to mark their path back to the rangers station with a trail of bright beads.
Search parties combed the forest for three days, each night returning to camp exhausted, each morning hopeful. Volunteers from nearby towns arrived, their faces drawn and determined. Lily, eyes darkened by sleeplessness, ran between teams, urging them onward.
On the fourth day, a volunteer, his voice steady despite the ache, approached Lily. Statistically, after three days the chances of finding people alive drop sharply. Weve swept every inch of this wood. Beyond lies a marshmaybe we should check there.
No! Lily shrieked, tears streaming. Granddad knew these woods. Hed never have led Oliver into a swamp. Theyre alive, I know they are! Keep looking!
By the fifth day Lilys gait was unsteady. A car screeched to a halt beside the search line, and out stepped Nigelrecognizable by his familiar grin. Lily, what on earth is happening here? he asked, eyes flicking over the frantic volunteers.
The mention of the missing pair made his skin turn pale. I dropped them off at Turlington Wood five days ago, he stammered. I… I didnt think
Everyone, over here! Lily shouted, pointing toward the faint glow of a dying fire.
Later that afternoon, a young university student, part of the volunteer crew, followed the scent of smoke. He found a halfburned campfire, two figures huddled beneath a blanket. He whispered, Oliver?
A weak voice answered, Theyve been looking for us I gave Granddad water and some stale bread. Hes still breathing, just unconscious.
The boys eyes widened as he saw Oliver, gaunt but alive, clutching his grandfathers hand. The rescue team rushed in, loading the frail duo onto a stretcher and whisking them toward the awaiting ambulance.
Granddad, Oliver croaked, his voice hoarse, please stay with me. I need to learn the rest of what you have to teach me.
Lily, tears breaking free, fell to her knees as the sirens wailed, the forest echoing with a fragile hope that had finally, against all odds, found its way home.
