Harriet carefully untied the knot, feeling the tiny shoe tremble in her hands. The laces were firm and newnot the frayed ones she had seen in the shelter. She exhaled and glanced at his bruised knee.
Now youre ready. You wont stumble again.
The boy beamed, his smile so pure that for a moment the world seemed to shed its gloom.
Thank you, miss.
My name is Harriet, she corrected herself, a strange sound in her own ears. No one had called her that for years.
He nodded, pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
Take it to wipe your hands.
Harriet smiled sadly and shook her head.
No, keep it. Your nose is bleeding a little.
He dabbed his forehead, and at the same moment a black van screeched to a halt on the street. Two men in suits and a woman with glasses leapt out.
Thomas! Oh my God, what have you done?! the woman shrieked, her voice shaking.
The boy jumped.
I was just chasing the pigeons
You could have given us a heart attack! she yelled, grabbing his shoulders. Her gaze snapped to Harriet. Who are you? What have you done to him?!
Harriet stepped back.
Nothing he just fell. I helped him.
The woman scrutinised her from head to toetattered sweater, weary face, hands with cracked skin. Are you homeless?
Harriet stayed silent, only bowing her head.
The vans door opened and a tall man with silver hair at his temples slipped out, wearing a long coat and a gaze as hard as steel.
Whats happening here? he asked calmly, his tone making the air feel thick.
This lady touched the childshe claims she helped him, the woman replied.
He looked at Harriet.
Who are you?
She swallowed. No one. Just someone who couldnt ignore a crying child.
He crouched, examined the boys forehead. Does it hurt, Thomas?
No, dad. That lady helped me. Shes kind.
The man stood, his eyes softening for an instant before hardening again. Put him in the van, he told the woman.
When they were alone, he turned to Harriet.
Did you know who he is?
No. To me he was just a child who needed help.
He stared at her closely. Do you know how many would pretend to be compassionate if they learned hes the son of one of the richest men in London?
Harriet shook her head. I didnt know. It wouldnt matter. His blood was flowing. Thats enough.
He produced a wallet, slid a £50 note across and said, Take it.
Harriet stepped back. No, thank you.
Its just gratitude.
If I take it, it becomes a bargain. I dont sell what I feel.
He narrowed his eyes. Youre quite proud for a homeless person.
Perhaps its all I have left, she whispered.
He gave no reply, simply gazed at her a long moment, then walked back to the van.
The next morning Harriet sat on the same bench. The city awokecoffee and scone aromas mingled with the clatter of trams and footsteps. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small stone, the one Thomas had pressed into her palm before he left.
Take it, dear Harrietmy lucky stone. Itll keep you safe at night, he had said.
Harriet smiled, clutching it tightly.
A black van pulled up again. This time the man was alone.
May I sit? he asked.
Harriet nodded.
They sat in silence for a while.
Yesterday I thought you were like everyone else, he said. But this morning my son asked why we never invited you over. He said you were kind.
Harriet turned her gaze away. I dont belong to your world.
And my world is it right? he smiled bitterly. Full of property owners but no hearts.
He placed an envelope in her lap. Inside theres no money, just an address. A care centre I fund. Say youre from me. Theyll give you a room and work.
Harriet looked puzzled. Why are you doing this?
Because yesterday my son said someone was good. I realised I no longer deserved that word.
Tears welled in her eyes. Thank you
He smiled lightly. Dont thank me. Tell yourself you saved not only him but perhaps me.
He stood, but before walking away he turned again. By the way the centre needs a nanny. Thomas would love to see you.
Harriet remained on the bench, shaken yet warmed by a new light. She opened the envelope: an address and a childs drawinga boy holding a womans hand, with uneven letters beneath:
Dear Harriet, dont be afraid. Everything will be alright.
Her tears fell, this time from hope. She rose, her steps unsure but moving forward.
Three weeks later, in the yard of the childrens centre in the Hackney borough, laughter rang out.
Higher, Harriet! Higher! Thomas shouted, swinging.
Watch out you dont fly off! she laughed, nudging the swing. Around her neck the stone dangled on a stringher lucky talisman.
By the gate the man stood, watching silently, his eyes no longer cold. He knew that the day a stranger lifted his son had altered not only the boys life but his own and Harriets forever.
Compassion, no matter how small, can reshape many lives.
