Excuse me, youve dropped a potato.
I turned, startled. Two boys stood there, identical and thin, bundled up in coats much too big for them. One picked up the potato, brushed it off on his trousers, and handed it to me. The other was staring at my tray of jacket potatoes as if he hadnt eaten in days.
Thank you. What brings you two round here then? This is the third time Ive seen you.
The older boy shrugged. Just passing.
But I recognised that just passing. I wrapped two potatoes in newspaper, added a pickled gherkin, and handed it to them.
Come back tomorrow and help me carry the crates, all right?
They grabbed the parcel and disappeared, not a word spoken.
That evening, as I lugged my water canister home, the boys reappeared in silence, took the weight from me, and carried it to my door. The elder reached into his pocket and pulled out two old, rubbed-down pennies.
They were our dads. He was a baker. He died. We dont want to give them away, but you can have a look.
I understood: it was all they had left in the world.
Every day after that, Jack and Henry came by. I fed them from my own kitchen and they helped me haul sacks and crates. They wolfed down the food quickly, eyes fixed on the ground. One day, curiosity got the better of me.
Where do you spend your nights?
In the boiler room on Mill Lane, Henry answered. Its dry there. Dont worry.
How can I not worry? I said, sighing.
Jack lifted his head. Were not beggars, miss. When were grown, well open a bakery. Like dad.
I nodded and left it at that. They had grit, those two. You could see they werent about to give up.
But then Victor Green, the market warden, took a dislike to my boys. His wifes stall selling kippers never had a queue, while mine always did. Hed stalk past, muttering, Playing at charity, are you? Feeding urchins?
Its none of your business, Victor, I shot back.
Oh, it is. This is my market to keep in order.
He started jotting notes in his pad, eyeing Jack and Henry with disdain. I felt trouble brewing, but I didnt guess quite how bad.
It was a Wednesday that changed everything. A car arrived at my stall. Out stepped two council women and the local constable. Jack and Henry were stacking crates, but they froze when they saw the uniforms.
Jack and Henry Smith, is it?
Yes, said Jack, chin jutting out.
Come along then. Youll be coming with us to social services.
I stepped forward sharply. What are you doing, taking them away? Theyre with meIm responsible!
Youre exploiting minors, the woman replied, nodding towards Victor Green, looking smug by the entrance. Someone reported it. The children are to be placed under state care.
Im not exploiting them! Im feeding them!
Auntie Toni, its all right, Jack said quietly. Dont argue with them.
Henry said nothing, his fists clenched. They were led to the car. I grabbed the womans elbow.
Wait, please! Let me apply for guardianship, I
Youre a pensioner. Step aside. The boys will go to different homes.
Different ones?
But the car door slammed. I stood in the middle of the market and saw Jacks face at the window, pressed to the glass. He mouthed a silent Thank you.
Victor Green whistled as he sauntered past.
Twenty years went by.
I, Toni Morrison, didnt work the market stall anymore. I lived in a small, tired house on the edge of the village, scraping by. I often thought about the boys. Were they alive? Had they found each other? Sometimes, Id dream about themstanding by my stall, eating potatoes, me ruffling their hair.
Victor Green still lived across the road, older now but quick with a jibe. If he saw me, it was with a sneer: Still thinking about your strays, are you Morrison?
I never replied. I had no energy left to waste.
Then, one Saturday, as I was tending my vegetable patch, two shiny, black cars rolled up the laneso big and polished it stopped the neighbours in their tracks. The cars pulled up outside my gate.
Two men stepped outtall, smart suits, matching moles under their left eyes. I stood up, dropping my spade.
Auntie Toni?
That voice wavered, but I knew those eyesthe very same as twenty years ago.
Jack?
He nodded. Henry stood beside him, silent, but smiling widely now. Jack stepped forward, pulling a chain from under his shirt. On it hung that same old penny.
Henry and I wear it. We never part with it.
I hugged them both, and none of us moved for a long time, as though afraid wed wake up and itd be gone.
The neighbours gawked from their windows. Eventually, Henry wiped his face with the back of his hand.
It took three years to find you. The markets gone, people scattered. We had to dig through archives and old address books. Thought we might never manage.
Jack took my hand.
We came to bring you home. We run bakeries nowseventeen of them. Took over Dads trade, together. They split us up, but we found each other again after six years, escaped care, started from scratch. Never forgot you feeding us. The only one who ever stopped for us.
Oh boys, you know, Im quite all right
All right? Henry looked at my crooked little house. Auntie Toni, you used to share what little you had with us. Now its our turn. Come live with me. Or with Jack. Weve been arguing about it all week.
His house is nearer the doctors, Jack said, but mines got a big garden and a lovely orchard.
They started bickering back and forth, just as they did when they were boys, and I couldnt help but cry quietly.
Victor Green peered over my fence, eyeing up the cars and the smart-looking men, clearly baffled. Jack caught his eye and strode over.
Youre Victor Green, the warden from the market?
He nodded stiffly.
You were the one that had us taken into care, werent you?
Silence. Then the old man lifted his chin.
Well, laws the law. Couldnt have kids being exploited.
Henry grinned crookedly. You know what? If it wasnt for you, wed never have left that old boiler room. Got split up, found each other again years later, started anew. You turned our lives upside down.
Jack handed him a business card.
Here. Our bakery shops. Just in case. No hard feelingsnot like some.
Victor Greens fingers shook as he turned the card: Smith & Smith Bakeries. His face fell, and he shuffled home, bent over as if carrying a heavy load.
I packed my bits in half an hour. Didnt have much to take. Jack and Henry helped me into the back seat, wrapped a blanket round me.
As the cars pulled away, I glanced back. Victor Greens shadow was watching at his window. No anger or triumph in his eyes. Just the emptiness of a man who spent his life making trouble for others, and in the end had nothing to show for it.
Auntie Toni, Jack said, catching my eye in the mirror, do you remember we promised to open a bakery?
I remember.
Well, the main ones called Tonis Kitchen. Every day, we feed children for freethe ones with nowhere to go.
I closed my eyes. Twenty years ago, Id given two starving boys a hot potato and didnt turn away. Theyd come back and given me everything I could wish for.
The cars turned onto the main road. The old village disappeared behind us. Ahead of us was a new lifeone Id simply earned, by choosing to be kind.
