The Foster Child We Took in Begged Me to Help Find His Real Family
Never thought my quiet life would get turned on its head, but then this kid showed up at our house and changed everything. He wasn’t meant to stay forever, but I could see the bond forming. When the time came to let him go, I had to do something. Could I help him find where he truly belonged before it was too late?
Honestly, you’d think at my age I’d know better than to get tangled up in drama. But life’s full of surprises, isn’t it? Not telling you how old I am—ladies have their secrets—but trust me, I’ve lived long enough to sniff out when something’s not right.
I live with my son, James, and his wife, Sophie. They reckoned it’d be easier this way, though sometimes I wonder who it’s really helping. They’ve got no kids—not for lack of trying. Anyone could see they were aching for a little one, but there was always this unspoken worry holding them back. Never pushed them on it—some things people need to figure out for themselves.
Lately, though, I’d noticed a gap growing between them, like a crack in a teacup. They still loved each other, sure, but love doesn’t always glue things back together.
Then one evening, James and Sophie walked in, and they weren’t alone.
Between them stood this boy, no older than ten, stiff as a board, eyes darting around like he wasn’t sure he belonged.
“Gran, this is Tommy. He’ll be staying with us,” Sophie said, her voice softer than usual, almost careful.
James rested a hand on the lad’s shoulder, but Tommy didn’t relax. Just gave a quick nod, lips pressed tight. Not a word.
“Come on, I’ll show you your room,” James said, leading him off.
I watched them disappear, my mind racing. A kid? Just like that? For a mad second, I wondered if they’d nicked him—wouldn’t be the first time those two stumbled into trouble. Back in their wilder days, I needed a steady supply of chamomile tea just to cope.
“Care to explain?” I asked Sophie, crossing my arms.
She glanced down the hall, lowering her voice. “Kitchen. We’ll talk there.”
At the table, after a deep breath, she spilled it. They’d met Tommy in the park. He’d run off from social services, and after they handed him back, Sophie had this idea—reckoned they could foster him till he found a proper home.
“Don’t you see what’s wrong with that?” I pressed. “What if he gets attached? Starts thinking of you as his mum and dad, then gets shipped off to strangers?”
She sighed. “He was already in care. At least with us, he’s safe.”
“Safe for now,” I said. “What happens when it’s time to say goodbye?”
Sophie hesitated. “James didn’t want to, but I reckoned it was the right thing.”
No use arguing—decision was made. Sometimes you just have to roll with it.
Tommy changed everything. We actually spent time together—proper family time. James, who used to bury himself in work, now rushed home every night. The tension between him and Sophie melted. They laughed more, talked properly. Sophie thrived as a mum, helping Tommy with school, making sure he had what he needed. She wasn’t lost in her head anymore—she had purpose.
I grew fond of the lad too. Full of questions, always pestering me for stories. “What was James like as a kid?” he’d ask, eyes wide. I’d chuckle and tell him the truth—absolute handful from day one.
Started wondering if they’d adopt him. But wasn’t my place to ask.
Then one night, James came home grim-faced. “They’ve found a family for Tommy. They want to adopt him.”
Sophie froze, dish in hand. “That’s… wonderful,” she forced out, voice wobbling.
I stared at them. “You’re just giving him up?”
James rubbed his temples. “This was always temporary. We’re not ready for kids.”
“You’ve managed fine this past while,” I said.
“We had help,” he muttered, glancing at me. “Even so, it’s been a slog.”
I opened my mouth—then heard it. Footsteps on the stairs. Tommy stood there, fists clenched.
“You’re lying,” I said quietly. “You need that boy as much as he needs you.”
Tommy’s face crumpled. He bolted upstairs. I just shook my head and went to my room.
Couldn’t sleep that night. Too quiet. Then, just before dawn, I heard shuffling. Front door clicked shut.
I rushed downstairs. There he was, backpack on, marching down the road.
“And where d’you think you’re off to, young man?” I called.
Tommy spun around, startled. “Gran! What’re you doing here?”
“More like what are you doing?”
“I’m finding my real family,” he mumbled. “If James and Sophie don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does. Social services must have records, but they won’t let me see.”
“And how’s that going to work?”
He shrugged.
I sighed. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
His eyes lit up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Everyone deserves family.”
At the social services office, the place looked about as welcoming as a dentist’s waiting room. Tommy fidgeted.
“How d’you plan to get the records?” I whispered.
He bit his lip. “Maybe… distract the guard?”
I sighed. “Fine. But be quick.”
Inside, the air smelled like stale tea and bureaucracy. Tommy shot me a look before darting off.
I marched to the security office, knocked. Some young bloke opened up.
Time for the confused old lady routine.
“Oh, dearie me,” I gasped, clutching my chest. “I’m ever so lost. My poor knees won’t hold much longer. Just wandered in and now I can’t remember where I live…”
Bloke looked concerned. “Need to sit down?”
“Oh, yes, that’d be lovely,” I wheezed, peeking at the monitors. One showed Tommy slipping into a corridor.
“Shall I call someone?” the guard asked.
“Yes! My son! His number’s… 0207… or was it 0208?” I trailed off.
Guard frowned. “Which one?”
“I just can’t recall… perhaps 0207 123? Or—no, 0207 456?”
He sighed, reaching for the phone. “I’ll call the police.”
“Oh, bless you,” I said, hand on heart.
On the monitor, Tommy reappeared, giving me a thumbs-up.
Suddenly spry, I hopped up. “Oh! Memory’s back! Best be off!”
Guard looked suspicious, but I shuffled out. Tommy met me in the lobby. “Go, go!” I hissed.
We nearly made it—then the guard shouted, “Hey!”
Heart pounding, I turned.
“You forgot your handbag,” he said, holding it out.
“Oh! Ta, love!” I grabbed it, and we scarpered.
Hailed a cab, dove in. “Drive, please!”
Through the window, the guard suddenly pointed. “Oi! That kid nicked something!”
Too late—we were off. Tommy grinned as we sped away.
Once safe, I turned to him. “Get what you needed?”
He clutched the papers. “Haven’t looked yet.”
I nodded. “You’ll know when you’re ready.”
Got home to police cars outside. Tommy went pale. “They’re sending me away, aren’t they?”
“Dunno. Let’s find out.”
Before I could stop him, Tommy bolted.
“James! Sophie!” I yelled. They chased after him.
By the time I caught up, they were in the garden. Tommy hid the papers behind his back, looking terrified.
“Where were you?” Sophie demanded.
“We were worried sick,” James said.
“I don’t want to go! Don’t want another family!” Tommy burst out.
James frowned. “How d’you know about that?”
“Heard you talking,” Tommy admitted.
Sophie took James’s hand. “After they said they’d found a family… we realized something.”
James nodded. “We want you to stay. With us.”
Tommy’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Sophie said.
The papers fluttered to the ground as Tommy threw his arms around them.
I stood back, watching, heart full. Some cracks, it seems, get filled with the right pieces.
