**Diary Entry**
I heard a timid knock at my door. When I opened it, a little girl, no older than six, stood there with wide, searching eyes.
“Little one, who are you looking for?” I asked.
“Im trying to find my mummyhave you seen her?” She stared up at me, her expression so earnest it tugged at my heart.
I hesitated. Id only just moved into this building myself, and as far as I knew, the flat across the landing had been empty the whole time.
“But no one lives there,” I told her gently.
Her face crumpled, and she sank onto the stairs, bursting into tears. “Please, miss, we really need her! Daddy misses her so much, and shes the only one who can make things right.”
I stood there, uncertain. Id never had children of my ownhow was I supposed to comfort her? A hug? A cup of tea? But shed never follow a stranger inside. Just then, my phone rang. Apologising, I asked her to wait and hurried to answer it. When I returnedshe was gone.
The rest of the evening, I couldnt shake the thought of her. Later, I rang my landlady, Mrs. Whitmore, and asked about my neighbours.
“That flats been empty for years,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“There was a little girl earlierlooking for her mum.”
A pause. Then, quietly: “Ah. That must be Catherines daughter. Poor thing. Catherine passed away some years back. Her husband was left with a babycouldnt bear to stay there. Moved out soon after.”
“If she comes back,” Mrs. Whitmore added, “take her home. They live nearby now.” She gave me the address before hanging up.
Time passed, and the memory faded. Work kept me busylong hours, early mornings.
Then, just before Christmas, I heard the same quiet knocking and the sound of stifled sobs. I flung the door openthere she was again, the same blue-eyed girl, crying softly.
“Whats wrong? Wheres your dad?”
“Hes at home,” she whispered. “But I need to find Mummy.”
Remembering the address, I rushed to find it, asking her to wait inside. She stepped in, glancing around before curling up on the hallway bench. When I finally found the slip of papershe was fast asleep, tucked into herself like a little hedgehog. Carefully, I carried her to the sofa, then called Mrs. Whitmore again.
“Margaret, the girl I told you about? Shes here. She fell asleep before I could take her homeIm worried her father might be searching.”
“Ill go round,” Mrs. Whitmore assured me. “Stay by the phone.”
As I waited, I watched her sleep, smoothing a stray curl from her forehead. How Id wanted children of my own. Years ago, my husband and I had dreamed of itbut after two losses, the dream slipped away. The stress, the hours, the griefit had all been too much. When he left, I heard hed started a new family, but I cut ties entirely, moving from one rented flat to another. Seven years now.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. I opened the doorand froze.
“James? What are you?”
“Here for my daughter,” he said, glancing past me. “Sugden Lane, number five?”
I nodded mutely, stepping aside. “Shes sleeping. Come in.”
We sat in the kitchen, the kettle humming. Of all the people to find on my doorsteplife had a cruel sense of humour.
“Should I wake her?” he asked.
“Let her rest. Whats going on? Shes been to that flat before.”
James rubbed his eyes, then sighed.
“Years ago, we lived thereme and Kate. The flat was hers, inherited. After we married, we moved in. Then she fell pregnantI was over the moon.”
His voice cracked. “When the time came, I took her to the hospital. She was cryingbegged me to look after our child if anything happened. There were complications. They couldnt save her.”
“Im so sorry,” I murmured, touching his arm. He was holding back tears, but they came anywayyears of pain spilling over.
Just then, small footsteps padded into the room.
“Daddy?”
James swept her into his arms. “Annie, you scared me. Why did you run off?”
“I just wanted to find Mummy.”
“Well find her,” he whispered. “Just not today. Lets go home.”
Before leaving, he handed me his card. “Call me if she comes again. Were not farshe knows the way now.”
“How did she even know this address?” I asked.
James sighed. “I showed her. Had to collect some things. She saw Kates photosever since, shes been waiting for her to come back. I told her Mummy was away but would come home one day.”
They left. Days later, James called. Soon, we were meeting on weekendswalks in the park, cafés, the cinema. Annie clung to me, even calling me “Mum” once.
Then one evening, James took my hands. “Irenemove in with us. No more rented flats. Annie misses you.”
“And you?”
“Me too,” he admitted softly. “Ive missed you. Im sorryfor everything.”
Now were together. Raising our little Annie. Every day, I thank fate for this giftto be a wife, a mother.
And though she isnt mine by blood, that doesnt stop me from loving her with every bit of my heart.
