I carefully loosened the knot, feeling the tiny shoe tremble in my hands. The laces were fresh and sturdy, not the frayed ones Id seen on the shoes of the kids who turned up at the shelter. I breathed out and glanced at his bruised knee.
Right, youre all set now. You wont trip again, I said.
The boy beamed, his smile so pure that for a moment the grey London sky seemed to brighten.
Thank you, miss, he replied.
My names Eleanor, she corrected herself, the sound of her own name making her pause. No one had called her that in years.
He nodded, pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.
Here, wipe your hands, he offered.
I gave a rueful smile and shook my head.
No, keep it. Your nose is bleeding a little.
He dabbed his forehead obediently, and at that instant a black estate car screeched to a halt on the pavement. The brakes shrieked, and two men in suits and a woman with spectacles leapt out.
James! the woman cried, her voice shaking. Lord, what have you done?
The boy jumped.
I was only chasing the pigeons
You almost gave us a heart attack! she shouted, grabbing his shoulders. Her eyes snapped to Eleanor. Who are you? What have you done to him?
Eleanor stepped back a pace.
Nothing he just fell. I helped him up.
The woman examined her from head to toe the torn sweater, the tired face, the cracked skin on her hands.
Are you homeless?
Eleanor fell silent, only bowing her head.
Just then the car door opened and a tall, silverhaired man eased out, his coat long, his gaze as hard as steel.
Whats happening here? he asked calmly, though the air seemed to thicken around his words.
This lady has touched the child, the woman said. She claims she helped him.
The man turned his stare to Eleanor.
And you are?
She swallowed hard.
Nothing. Just a person who couldnt walk past a crying child.
He fell quiet, then knelt beside the boy, inspecting his forehead.
Does it hurt, Jamie? he asked gently.
No, sir. She helped me. Shes kind.
The man rose. For a heartbeat his expression softened, then hardened again.
Put him in the car, he ordered the woman.
When they were alone, he faced Eleanor.
Did you know who he is?
No. To me he was just a child who needed help.
He studied her closely.
Do you realize how many would pretend compassion if they learned hes the son of one of the richest families in Camden?
Eleanor shook her head.
I didnt know. It wouldnt matter. His blood was spillingthat was enough.
The man produced his wallet, slid a £20 note across the seat and handed it to her.
Take it.
She stepped back.
No, thank you.
Its just a token of thanks.
If I take it, it becomes a deal. I dont trade my feelings.
He narrowed his eyes.
Youre quite proud for a person without a home.
Perhaps its all I have left, she whispered.
He gave no answer, simply stared at her a long moment before turning back to his car.
The next morning Eleanor was again on the same bench. The city was waking upthe scent of fresh coffee and scones mingling with the clatter of doubledecker buses and hurried footsteps.
She fished a small stone from her coat pocketthe one Jamie had pressed into her palm before he left.
Take it, little Eleanor, hed said. Its my lucky stone. Itll keep the night at bay.
She smiled, clutching the stone tightly.
Then the same black estate car rolled up. This time the driver was alone.
May I have a seat? he asked.
Eleanor nodded.
They sat in silence for a while.
Yesterday I thought you were like everyone else, the man said. But this morning my son asked why we never invited you over. He said you were kind.
Eleanor looked away.
I dont belong to your world.
And my world is it right? he smiled wryly. Full of property owners but empty of hearts.
He slipped an envelope into her lap.
Theres no cash inside, just an address. A centre for help that I fund. Say youre coming from me, and theyll give you a room and a job.
Eleanor stared, puzzled.
Why are you doing this?
Because yesterday my son said someone was good. I realised I no longer deserved that word myself.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Thank you
You dont thank me, he said softly, smiling. Tell yourself youve saved not just him but perhaps me too.
He stood, but before he left he turned.
By the way the centre is looking for a childminder. Jamie would love to see you.
Eleanor was left alone on the bench, shaken yet warmed by a new hope.
She opened the envelope. Inside was indeed an address and a childs drawing: a boy holding a womans hand, and beneath it, in uneven letters,
Little Eleanor, dont be afraid. Everything will be alright.
Her tears fell, this time not from helplessness but from belief. She rose, her steps tentative but moving forward.
Three weeks later, in the courtyard of the childrens centre in the Ladbroke Grove estate, laughter rang out.
Higher, little Eleanor! Higher! Jamie shouted as he swung on the swing.
Watch out you dont fly away! she laughed, giving the swing a gentle push. Around her neck the stone dangled on a cordher lucky talisman.
By the gate stood the silverhaired man, watching silently, the chill gone from his eyes.
He knew that the day an unknown woman lifted his son from the ground, not only the boys life had changed. His own life had changed. And Eleanors had, forever.
