The streetlamps glowed over Manchester as darkness settled, and still Mum hadn’t returned. Lily, grasping the push rims, maneuvered her wheelchair to the table, snatched up the mobile, and punched in her mother’s number.
“The subscriber’s device is switched off or out of service,” announced a cold, automated voice.
The girl stared at the phone, bewildered. Remembering how little credit it held, she switched it off. Mum had just popped to the cheaper supermarket further out, promising a quick return. She never stayed away long; Lily had needed the wheelchair since birth, and besides Mum, there was no one else.
At seven, Lily wasn’t scared of being alone, but Mum *always* told her exactly when to expect her return. What could have happened? “That supermarket takes barely an hour round trip,” Lily murmured, glancing at the clock. “It’s been four. I’m hungry.” She wheeled herself into the small kitchen. The kettle hissed; she retrieved a leftover sausage roll from the fridge. Ate it. Drank some tea.
Still no Mum. Unable to bear it, she grabbed the mobile again.
“The subscriber’s device is switched off or out of service,” the mechanical voice repeated.
She moved herself onto her bed, tucking the phone under the pillow. She left the light glaring; the darkness without Mum was too frightening. Lying there for ages, exhaustion eventually pulled her under.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains when she woke. Mum’s bed was neatly made.
“Mum!” Her voice cracked towards the hallway.
Silence. She grabbed the phone, called again. Only the same metallic reply. Fear surged, tears welling uncontrollably.
Kevin trudged back from the bakery on Oak Street, clutching a warm paper bag of crumpets. It was their tradition; Mum cooked breakfast while he fetched the morning treat. He was thirty now, unmarried. Girls never seemed to notice him – thin, awkward, perpetually unwell since birth. Treatments were expensive; Mum raised him alone. The final blow came as an adult: infertility. He’d made peace with solitude.
A cracked phone half-hidden in the grass near the kerb snagged his eye. Mobiles and tech were his passion *and* his job as a coder and vlogger. Curiosity sparked; he retrieved the shattered device, clearly crushed under a tyre and tossed aside. “Someone’s had trouble,” he muttered, pocketing it. “I’ll check it later.”
After breakfast, Kevin extracted the SIM card from the broken phone and slotted it into his own spare burner. The contacts were mostly NHS clinics and the pensions department, but the first entry read “Daughter (Lily)”. His breath hitched. He dialled.
“Mum!” answered a bright, childish voice, instantly shattered by disappointment.
“I’m… not your Mum,” Kevin stammered.
“Where’s Mum?”
“I don’t know. I found a broken phone. Put this SIM in it and rang.”
“My mum’s disappeared!” Sobs erupted down the line. “She went to the supermarket yesterday and never came back!”
“Your dad? Your gran?”
“Don’t have a dad or gran. Just Mum.”
“What’s your name?” Kevin realised this child needed help fast.
“Lily.”
“I’m Kevin. Lily, can you tell neighbours you’re alone?”
“I can’t go out. My legs don’t work. And the flat next door’s empty.”
“Don’t work?” Kevin felt utterly lost, panic rising.
“I was born this way. Mum says we need to save pennies for an op.”
“How do you get around?”
“In my chair.”
“Lily,” Kevin cut to the chase, his voice urgent. “Do you know your address?”
“Yes. Seven Bright Street, Flat eighteen.”
“I’m coming. We’ll find your mum.” He ended the call. Mum, Anne, stood in his doorway. “What’s wrong, Kev?”
“Mum, found a busted phone. Put the SIM in mine… rang it.” He took a shaky breath. “There’s a little girl, alone. In a wheelchair. No other family. Got the address. I need to go.”
“We go together,” Anne stated firmly, grabbing her coat. She knew loneliness and fear raising a sick boy; Kevin earned well now, she was retired. They booked a taxi.
The intercom buzzed in the quiet flat block. “Who is it?” came a small, sad voice.
“Lily? It’s Kevin.”
“Come in!”
The door to Flat 18 was slightly ajar.
Inside, a thin girl in her wheelchair watched them with huge, frightened eyes. “Will you find Mum?”
“What’s your mum’s name?” Kevin asked gently.
“Linda.”
“Surname?” he pressed.
“Perry.”
“Hold on, Kevin,” Anne intervened softly. “Lily, pet, are you hungry?”
“Yes. There was one sausage roll… I ate it yesterday.”
“Right then, Kev,” Anne directed. “Run to our bakery. Get what we usually do.”
“Got it!” He shot out the door.
He returned to find Anne bustling in the kitchen. They unpacked the bag, laid the table.
As Lily ate ravenously, Kevin went to work. He pulled up the local news site.
“Right… oh, crumbs. Hit and run… yesterday… Oak Street. Woman. Critical condition.” He grabbed his phone. Third ring connected.
“Yes, a woman was brought in yesterday from Oak Street. Critical. Still unconscious.”
“Her name?” Kevin’s heart pounded.
“No ID, no phone found. Family?”
“Maybe… I don’t know yet…”
“Come to the hospital…”
“Know the place. On my way.” He hung up, turning to Lily. “Got a photo of Mum?”
“Here.” Lily wheeled to a drawer, pulled out an album. “This is us last summer.”
“She’s beautiful,” Kevin murmured. He took a picture with his phone, giving Lily a reassuring smile. “Going to find her now.”
Linda blinked. White ceiling tile swam into focus. Slowly, awareness crept back. A car… screeching… flying towards her…
She tried to shift. Pain ripped through her body. A nurse leaned close. “Awake, love?”
Linda’s eyes flew wide with terror. “How long? How long?”
“Two days.”
“My girl! She’s alone! In the flat!”
“Linda, easy now,” the nurse soothed, pressing a gentle hand to her shoulder. “A young man, Kevin, he came. Left his phone… said your phone was crushed.”
“I need to ring…”
“Here!” The nurse tapped “Daughter (Lily)”, holding the phone to Linda’s ear.
“Mum!”
“Lily! Sweetheart! Are you alright?”
“I’m okay! Gran Anne and Uncle Kevin are here!”
“Uncle Kevin?”
“You mustn’t excite her!” a doctor commanded, striding in. “Phone away, please. Let me examine you.”
“Lily, I’ll ring back!” Linda choked, disconnecting. The doctor ordered something Linda couldn’t grasp; the nurse hooked up a drip. As the doctor left, the nurse pocketed the borrowed phone.
“Could I… just a moment more
The girl smiled brightly, stepping confidently into her new world hand in hand with the family that found her when she was alone.
