**Katie**
George hurried out of the flat and made his way to the bakery. He needed to get there before closing—supper without bread was unthinkable. As he approached the shop, he noticed a little girl, no older than four, standing by the entrance, clutching a tiny terrier in her arms.
“Auntie, please, could you buy some bread for my puppy?” the child whispered, looking hopefully at a woman stepping inside.
“Child, where’s your mother? Why are you out so late?” the woman scolded before disappearing into the shop.
George, who had been watching, stopped. The girl’s expression was heart-wrenching—full of sorrow and exhaustion. Unlike the woman, he understood the truth. This wasn’t about the dog. The girl was hungry, begging for food for herself.
“Does your pup eat bread?” George asked gently, crouching down.
“Yes,” she answered quickly. “He really likes sausages and sweets, but when he’s hungry, he’ll have bread.”
“Right,” George murmured, his heart heavy. “Wait here—I’ll be back in a moment.”
Inside, he grabbed a loaf, then added milk, yogurt, biscuits, sweets, and some Cumberland sausage to his basket. Standing in line, he couldn’t help but think of his own childhood. His mother had been a drinker; his father, a face he’d never seen. He remembered nights scouring playgrounds long after dark, shining a torch into sandboxes in search of half-eaten biscuits. He knew that look in the little girl’s eyes—desperate, hollow.
When he returned, he handed her a small bag. “I got some food for your pup. Do you live far?”
She shook her head. “Just across the road, in that block of flats.”
“Let me help you carry it.”
Her face lit up instantly. She skipped ahead, humming a tune George faintly recognised.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Katie,” she said. “And this is Benny.” She nodded at the terrier.
As they walked, she explained that she lived with her mum and grandmother. Benny, she said, was a stray she’d taken in. George hoped he was wrong—maybe Katie’s mum was just struggling, not neglectful.
At the entrance of her building, loud music blared from an open second-floor window.
“I won’t go in yet,” Katie said. “We’ll eat out here.”
“Is your grandmother home?” George pressed. It was nearly eleven—far too late for a child to be outside.
“Yes. But she got her pension today. She’s drinking with Mum in the kitchen.”
George hesitated. The street was deserted, the darkness unsettling. He couldn’t leave her.
“Go inside, lock your door, and get some rest. It’s not safe out here. What if someone took Benny?”
She tightened her grip on the terrier and finally nodded. George waited until she was inside before leaving, his mood soured. He’d assumed times had changed, that social services cared more now. But clearly, some things never did.
At home, his wife, Emily, scolded him for being late. Supper had gone cold, and she’d been frantic with worry. Six months pregnant, she was prone to mood swings, but tonight, she sensed his distress. Over dinner, he told her about Katie and Benny.
“You did right, helping her,” Emily sighed. “But there are so many children like her—we can’t save them all. Especially now, with our own on the way.”
George knew she was right, but sleep wouldn’t come. Something about Katie had lodged in his heart.
A week later, returning from a walk, they spotted Katie outside the shop again. This time, she was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Katie! What’s wrong?” George dropped to her level.
“They took Benny!” she cried. “Some boys! They ran that way!”
George sprinted off. Five minutes later, he returned with the terrier. Emily, soothing Katie on a bench, gasped. “George, look—she’s got bruises! She says her mother did it. We have to call the police.”
“Do it,” he agreed.
The moment the officers arrived, Katie turned on George, screaming, “You’re evil! I thought you were my friend!”
It broke his heart, but he knew she couldn’t stay in that house.
As the police car drove away, George sat on the bench, Benny in his lap.
“I’m keeping him,” he growled.
Emily nodded. “She’ll be better off in care.”
“You don’t know what care’s like!” he snapped.
They didn’t speak the rest of the night. Emily bathed Benny, cradling him in silence. George stared out the kitchen window, guilt gnawing at him.
Finally, Emily broke the silence. “George… what if we took Katie in?”
His heart leapt. “Are you serious?”
“What if they won’t let us? She has a mother.”
“She won’t stand in our way,” George said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Three months later, George arrived at the children’s home. Katie was playing outside.
“George!” She ran to him. “Are you taking me home today?”
“Yes,” he laughed, relief washing over him. “Emily’s waiting with your new baby brother.”
“And Benny?”
“Of course. You’re his best friend.”
Driving home, George felt lighter than he had in years. They’d done it—Katie was theirs. He knew they couldn’t save every child, but they’d changed one life.
His children would never know hunger. They’d never search for scraps in the dark. And that, he decided, was enough.
**Sometimes, the smallest act of kindness can change a life forever—not just for the child you save, but for yourself.**
