There were visitors in the house. They almost always had someone over.
Everyone drank and drank, bottles piling up on the table, but there was hardly anything to eat. Not even a crust of bread was left just ashtrays and an empty tin of pilchards. Harry looked over the table again, hoping for something, but there was nothing.
Alright, Mum, Im off, said the boy, slowly tugging on his battered shoes.
He still hoped that his mum would stop him, would say
Where are you off to, love, without any food? And its freezing out. Stay home. Ill make some porridge, send these guests packing, and clean up.
Harry always waited for a kind word from his mother, but she seldom had any. Her words pricked like thistles, always making him want to curl up and hide.
This time, he decided he was leaving forever. Harry was six and considered himself quite grown up. First, he thought hed earn some money and buy a bunmaybe even two. His stomach grumbled for food.
Harry had no idea how to make money, but as he wandered past the local shops he spotted an empty bottle sticking out from a heap of snow. He pocketed it, found a discarded plastic bag, and spent hours collecting bottles thrown aside by others.
Soon, the bag jingled and clinked heavily with bottles. Harry imagined buying a soft, aromatic currant bun, or maybe one with poppy seeds, perhaps even covered in icing. Realistically, though, he doubted he’d have enough bottles for the icing, so he decided to search a little longer.
He wandered closer to the train station platforms, where men waited for their commuter train, drinking cans of lager. Placing his heavy bag near a kiosk, Harry chased after a freshly abandoned bottle. While he was away, a scruffy, angry man came by, snatched up Harrys bag, and glared so fiercely that Harry just turned and walked away.
His dream of a bun vanished like mist.
Collecting bottles is proper hard work too, thought Harry, trudging through the wet, sticky snow.
His feet were soaked and cold. Darkness crept in. Without thinking, Harry strayed into the entrance of a block of flats, collapsed onto the landing, shuffled closer to the radiator, and sank into a deep, warm sleep.
When he woke, Harry wondered if he was still dreaming. It was warm, quiet, and smelled delicious.
Then a woman entered, her smile as gentle as sunlight.
Well, love, she said kindly, are you warmer now? Did you sleep well? Come on, lets have some breakfast. I was passing by late and saw youjust like a shivering puppy, sleeping in the entrance. I brought you inside.
Is this my home now? Harry asked, hardly daring to hope.
If youve nowhere else, then yes, it can be, the woman replied.
From there, it was like a fairytale. The kind lady looked after him, fed him, bought new clothes. Over time, Harry told her all about his life with his mum.
Her name was Daisya name Harry thought sounded magical, for hed heard it for the first time and, in his young mind, only a fairy godmother could be called Daisy.
Would you like me to be your mum? she asked one day, pulling him close the way real, loving mums do.
Of course he wanted that, but happiness ended abruptly. A week later, his mum showed up.
Mum was nearly sober and shouted furiously at Daisy, They havent taken my rights yet! Hes my son!
As she marched him away, snowflakes twirled from the sky, and Harry thought the house he left behind, where kind Daisy lived, looked just like a white castle.
Life worsened. His mum kept drinking, and Harry ran away again and again. Hed sleep at railway stations, collect bottles, buy himself a bit of bread. He didnt talk to strangers or ask for help.
Eventually his mum lost parental rights, and Harry was placed in a childrens home.
His saddest thought was that he could never remember where the white castle-like house was, nor the kind woman with the magical name.
Three years went by.
Harry lived in the childrens home. He stayed quiet and withdrawn. His favourite pastime was to sit alone and drawalways the same scene: a white house and falling snowflakes.
One day, a journalist visited the home. The caretaker showed her around, introducing the children. When they reached Harry, the caretaker explained,
Harrys a good, bright lad, but he struggles to fit in. Even after three years, adapting is hard. Were looking for a family for him.
Hello, Im Daisy, the journalist introduced herself.
Harry blinked, sat up, and started talking at once! He eagerly spoke of another kind Daisy who had once helped him, as if with every sentence, his heart grew lighter. His eyes shone and red touched his cheeks. The caretaker watched, amazed at the change.
The name Daisy had become a golden key unlocking Harrys heart.
Listening to his story, Daisy the journalist couldnt hold back her tears. She promised to write about Harry in the local newspaper, hoping the kind woman he remembered might read it and realise he was searching for her.
She kept her promise. Miraculously, the other Daisythe lady who helped Harrywasnt a newspaper reader. But that winter, for her birthday, colleagues at work gave her flowers, wrapping them in newspaper for warmth. At home, as she unwrapped the bouquet, her eye was caught by the headline, Kind-hearted DaisyA boy named Harry is looking for you. Please get in touch!
She read the article and recognised her once little chargethe boy shed rescued from the stairwell and tried to adopt.
Harry knew her at once. He ran to her; they embraced. Tears flowed from Harry, Daisy, and everyone present.
Ive waited for you so long, Harry said.
It was only with difficulty that he was persuaded to let Daisy go home that day. She couldnt take him immediatelyadoption procedures had to startbut she promised to visit him every day.
*
Afterwards, Harrys life changed for the better. Today, at twenty-six, hes finished his studies at a technical university, plans to marry a wonderful woman, is outgoing and cheerful, and cherishes his mum Daisywithout whom hed have nothing.
When Harry had grown up, Daisy told him her story: her husband had left her because they couldnt have children, leaving her lost and lonely. It was then she found Harry on the stairs and warmed his life.
After Harrys mother took him away, Daisy thought with aching regret, It wasnt meant to be. But fate was kind, and she was endlessly happy when she found him again at the children’s home.
Harry tried to discover his birth mothers fate. He learnt theyd rented a flat in the city, but years ago, shed left with a man just released from prison, vanishing without trace. He didnt search further. After all, sometimes you have to let the past drift away.
**
In life, kindness can arrive from unexpected places, and a single compassionate gesture can change the course of anothers life. Harrys story reminds us that real family and love are not always born, but sometimes found, and a warm heart is what makes a true home.
