Brian had only ever known his mother since he was a baby. Shed always been there for him, his constant companion, and he had nobody else in the world. His father had left her before Brian was even born. It was evening, the sky dusted with twilight across their small terraced house in Manchester. Little Brian had promised himself he would be brave, that he would wait for his mother to return.
The hours passed. One hour, then two. Yet still, she didnt come home. Alone in the sitting room, five-year-old Brian felt his courage crumbling. Tears welled up in his eyes and he rushed to her bedroom, clinging to hope. But the bed was empty and the pair of shoes she always wore into town were gone.
Dread crept into Brians small heart and he began to sob again, curling up into a ball on her bed, where he eventually fell asleep, his cheeks wet with tears.
Sunlight poured through his curtains when he awoke. Brian pushed himself up, and once more set out in search of his mum. He didnt think to visit next doorhis mother always warned him about their neighbour, a rowdy uncle who was forever staggering about drunk and shouting in the garden. Brian was terrified of him.
He wandered outside onto the street, craning his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar coat. People bustled around him, indifferent to the quiet little boy searching so desperately. After hours of wandering, exhausted, Brian slumped onto a bench in the local park. An elderly lady occupied the opposite end. Brians tears wouldnt stop, trickling helplessly down his cheeks.
The old lady peered at him over her glasses and asked softly what was wrong. Go on home, young man, she said gently, mistaking his distress for childish mischief, and handed him a shiny apple pulled from her bag. Brian thanked her politely, but he didnt stop searching. Every adult who passed was lost in their own world, blind to his plight.
At last, utterly worn out, Brian dozed off on the park bench. Evening shadows lengthened. He woke in the clammy dusk, shivering with cold, his tummy twisting with hunger. Eventually, someone called the police. They took Brian to the nearby police station before he was sent on to the social services office.
I want my mum! Brian cried again and again, hope flickering with every new adult he saw, wishing just once to see her kind face. But the room he entered was empty of everything familiar.
Later, another kind woman arrived with a bundle of clean clothes. She helped him change and led him by the hand, gently taking him to another building filled with children, all with uncertain eyes like his own. Brian slumped against a wall, head spinning, a hollow ache in his chest. He slowly realised his mum was far away nowso far shed never come home again.
P.S. His mother had been struck by a car and died that same evening she left the house.
