3rd June
I couldnt help itmy heart just ached for the poor little lad wandering about the drive this afternoon. The Browns are away in London for the day, and as I tidied up the parlour, I kept glancing at the big grandfather clock, deciding there was still plenty of time. So, I wiped my hands on my apron and went outside.
Whats your name, love? I asked gently, approaching the boy who was gazing pensively up and down the quiet village lane.
Its Alfie, he replied, peering at me warily from beneath a messy mop of hair.
Well, Alfie, why dont you come inside with me? Ive just baked a fresh apple tart, I offered.
His stomach gave a loud rumble before he answered, but without another word, he followed me into the warm kitchen, his eyes never leaving the pie.
I sliced him a generous piece and set it down in front of him.
Thank you, miss! This is delicious! Alfie exclaimed with his mouth full. My mum used to bake cakes like this.
I paused for a moment, then asked with care, And where is your mum, sweetheart?
He fell silent, chewing stopped. His eyes grew distant, and he whispered, Ive been looking for her for ages She disappeared.
I tried to sound bright, Eat up, love. Im sure youll find her, you will.
Suddenly the door clicked and Mr. and Mrs. BrownEdward and Florencereturned home earlier than Id expected. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of their shoes in the hallway.
Whats all this, then? Edward called, poking his head into the kitchen and nearly dropping his umbrella when he spotted Alfie at the table.
Who is this, Julia? he demanded.
I stood my ground and said, Hes lost and hungry, so I gave him some food.
Florence looked confused but kind, while Edwards brows drew together.
So were feeding stray children now? Do our opinions not count anymore? Edward huffed.
Alfies chin wobbled, and he sniffled, pushing his unfinished tart away. IIll go now, he muttered.
Florence knelt beside him, her voice gentle. Wait, Alfie. Where are you from? How did you lose your mum?
Bless her, Florence was always softer than Mr. Brown, who sometimes chided her for her kindness, but he could never harden her heart.
I live with my grandad, but hes horrible. Always shouting, sometimes hurting me. I ran away, Alfie admitted, pulling an old, faded photograph from his pocket.
These were my parents, he said, scrubbing away tears with his sleeve and handing the photo to Florence.
She stared at the image, completely still.
Edward, look! Its our Rosie! she cried, thrusting the photograph into his hands.
Edward took it, suspicious at first, but his face changed as he recognised their long-lost daughter.
Alfie, where did you get this? he asked, voice trembling.
I took it from Grandad. Theres an address on the back, and I came here to see if Mum was here. Grandad always said my mum abandoned me, like a cuckoo, but I never believed him.
Florence was whispering, almost to herself, It cant be Our Rosie ran off with that traveller years ago, never wrote, and then the accident Her words grew faint, remembering when their only daughter left and all the hope faded from the house afterwards.
Edwards tone softened, And your dad?
Alfies eyes filled with fresh tears. He died half a year ago.
Florence and Edward fell silent, realising this was their only grandchild. Lonely and weary of their quiet home, they didnt hesitate.
Florence reached for Alfie, Come on, lets show you your room.
Will my mum come too? he asked, hope flickering in his voice.
Florence forced a gentle smile. Shes with your dad now, my dear.
Alfie turned pale, and my heart broke for him.
Time has passed, and the Browns have made everything official. When the grandfather heard that wealthy folks were taking Alfie in, he didnt stand in their way.
I cant hide how happy I am. Ever since the day I offered Alfie kindness, the whole house has changed. Laughter echoes again, the Browns are smiling, and Alfie, no longer the battered, hungry stray, is now a well-dressed, kind lad, truly cherished by the family he always deserved.
