Michael stood exactly where he’d left Annie five minutes ago, staring around in confusion, a strange, growing knot tightening in his chest. She was nowhere to be seen.
Among the sea of children, he couldn’t spot a single one—his own daughter.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath. “Where’s she gone? I only popped out for five minutes.” Then he spotted Zoe, Annie’s form teacher, who was lining up her gloomy Year One pupils by height, and hurried over.
“Where’s my child? A girl with white ribbons. She should be with you. She’s not here.”
Michael was so worked up he didn’t notice he’d raised his voice.
The young teacher flinched and looked at him, confused.
“Sorry… who exactly? All mine seem to be present.”
“My daughter, Annie. She was right here a moment ago, and now she’s gone! She’s in your class. Don’t you remember us?”
“Look, I’ve got twenty-nine children in my class, and we’ve only met a handful of times.”
“So?”
“I haven’t memorised every child and parent’s face yet.”
“And that’s an excuse?”
“Listen, every parent personally brought their child to me. You… you didn’t. You’ve only just come over now. I understand it’s chaotic and all, but… why did you leave your daughter alone? Do you not see how many people are here today? Not just a seven-year-old—even an adult could get lost.”
“I just nipped out to the shop for water for two minutes. Annie was thirsty. I came back, and she was gone. Blimey, you’re the teacher! Shouldn’t you have been watching the kids? Where am I supposed to look now? Where could she have gone?”
Zoe took a deep breath. It was her first day, her very own class, and the whole thing felt like a bad dream.
“Calm down, sir. What did your daughter look like?”
“Like I said: big white ribbons.”
“Sorry, but I’ve got fifteen girls in my class, all with white ribbons. Any other details? What was she wearing, for example?”
Michael paused. He was so flustered and panicked that he couldn’t think of anything else. That morning he’d helped her tie those very ribbons, adjusted her collar, fretted about her white tights staying clean, and now he realised he could barely describe her.
“Well, other details… a seven-year-old girl, brown eyes, long dark hair.”
“That’s better. Anything else you remember?”
“Um… She’s got a yellow backpack with ducklings on it. She loves animals, so she picked that one. No other kid has one like it. Lord, where could she have gone?” Michael rambled, glancing around frantically.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. She can’t have left the school grounds. So your Annie must be here somewhere. Wait here, I’ll be back.”
Zoe dashed over to her pupils, who were shifting from foot to foot waiting for the assembly, counted them again, and looked carefully at the girls. Among the pretty white ribbons, Annie wasn’t there, and none of them had seen a girl with a yellow duckling backpack.
Asking a colleague—the teacher of the parallel class—to keep an eye on her pupils, Zoe hurried back to Michael.
“None of her classmates have seen her,” she said. “She couldn’t have got inside the school. So your daughter must be on the grounds. Let’s search together.”
“Maybe we should call the police?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ll definitely find Annie,” Zoe said, forcing her voice to sound calm and confident. Though, of course, she was worried too.
So father and teacher set off to look for Annie.
They quickly combed the schoolyard, checked the playground, and approached the security guard at the gate several times. No luck. No one had seen her.
“Doesn’t your daughter have a phone?” Zoe asked as they headed to the back of the school—the only spot they hadn’t checked.
“She does,” Michael sighed. “But her phone’s with me. I didn’t get a chance to give it to her…”
“Shame,” the teacher sighed too.
“I just hope nothing’s happened… nothing’s happened to her,” Michael repeated almost in a whisper.
Zoe said nothing. She was thinking about how she was now responsible not just for the children, but for the trust of their parents. If something serious had actually happened to the child…
Meanwhile, the girl with white ribbons and the yellow duckling backpack was standing at the back of the school under a tall tree, talking to a kitten sitting on a branch right above her head, unable to get down. She’d tried everything to coax it down, but the kitten only mewed pitifully in return.
“Come on, little one, jump,” Annie said to the kitten. “I’ll catch you. Honest, I will.”
The kitten seemed to try, but at the last moment fear froze it, and it clung to the branch, mewing even more sadly. So sadly that Annie nearly cried.
When she realised she couldn’t manage on her own, she ran for help.
As she turned the corner of the school, she unexpectedly bumped into her dad and Zoe. They both looked somehow worried.
“Sweetheart, where did you disappear to?” Michael ran up to her. “I nearly went out of my mind. What on earth are you doing?”
“Dad, can you tell me off later?” Annie replied. “Right now… I need your help.”
“What happened?”
“Come with me.”
She took her father’s hand, with the other she pulled Zoe, and confidently led them behind the school.
Bewildered, the adults exchanged glances and silently followed. Finally, Annie stopped at the tree and pointed upwards.
“There’s a tiny kitten up there. See? Dad, please get him down.”
“Annie, don’t you want to tell Dad how you ended up here? Didn’t I tell you to wait for me?”
“When I was standing by the fence waiting for you, I saw a dog chasing this kitten, so I ran after them. The kitten got scared and climbed the tree, and the dog barked at him. I chased the dog away… but I couldn’t get the kitten down.”
“You chased a big dog away by yourself?” Zoe asked, surprised.
“Uh-huh,” Annie nodded. “I told him my dad would come, and if he didn’t go away, my dad would help him. So he left. But the kitten’s still up there, poor thing. Daddy, will you get him down? How long are you going to stand and do nothing?” She stamped her foot impatiently. “He’s scared…”
Michael eyed the thin branches skeptically and realised with his ninety-plus kilos there was no way. The teacher, however—slim, light—could probably manage.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Zoe asked, puzzled. “I’m not climbing. I can’t even reach the branch.”
“I’ll hoist you up,” Michael grinned.
“No way!”
“Please,” Annie took the teacher’s hand. “Look how scared he is. What if he falls?”
Zoe looked up.
The kitten mewed pitifully again, as if it understood exactly what was being said.
“Alright,” she said at last. “But only if you,” she looked at Michael, “hold me very tightly and don’t drop me.”
“Promise it’ll be fine,” Michael smiled.
Zoe perched on Michael’s broad shoulders, he lifted her easily, then she stood on his shoulders with both feet, holding one hand on a branch and reaching with the other, to the cheering of the girl and her father—trying with all her might to grab the kitten.
“A bit more…” Michael encouraged. “Almost got it.”
The kitten backed up nervously at first, then, gaining courage, cautiously stepped towards her and—
“You got him! You got him!” Annie clapped joyfully. “You’re brilliant, Miss Zoe! Dad, hold her tight. Don’t drop her.”
When Zoe finally landed on the ground, Annie immediately reached for the kitten and cuddled it.
It started purring softly.
“Well,” Michael smiled. “Thank goodness, everyone’s safe and sound. But you gave me such a fright, sweetheart, with your mysterious vanishing act.”
“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t get down by himself.”
Michael looked at Annie and just shook his head.
It was that kind heart that made him love his daughter more than anything in the world.
“Can we take him home?” Annie asked, nodding at the kitten.
“After an introduction like that, it’s hard to say no,” Michael chuckled.
“Then you look after him while I get the textbooks. And don’t you go getting lost again—otherwise Miss Zoe and I will have to search for you.”
The teacher couldn’t help laughing.
“I wonder what Mum will say when you turn up with this little chap.”
“I don’t have a mum…” the girl sighed. “But I really wish I did.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” the teacher blinked, flustered.
“It’s fine,” Michael smiled. “She left us five years ago. Went abroad. I haven’t heard from her since. I mean, Annie and I haven’t.”
For a few seconds, the schoolyard fell silent. Zoe looked at them—the big, slightly awkward man with kind eyes, and the little girl holding a grey kitten—and something pricked at her heart.
“But now we’ve got Mittens,” Annie said decisively, stroking the kitten.
“You’ve already named him?” Michael beamed.
“Of course. You can’t live without a name, can you?”
*****
Michael always picked Annie up himself. Sometimes they exchanged only a few words with Zoe, sometimes the conversation stretched until the schoolyard was empty. They discussed Annie’s progress, funny classroom moments, books, films, pets, and gradually they stopped noticing that they no longer talked only about school.
One day, Michael waited in the corridor until all the children had gone, then stepped decisively into the classroom.
Zoe first smiled broadly, then, seeing the beautiful bouquet in his hands, looked surprised.
“These are for you,” Michael said, a little hoarse, handing her the flowers. “And also… I’d like to invite you to dinner tonight. Actually, Annie and I would really love it if you joined us for dinner. The three of us. What do you say, Miss Zoe?”
The teacher blushed, feeling her ears burn, but she took the flowers.
They smelled of autumn, of home, and somehow—of hope.
“Alright,” she simply replied. “I’d like that.”
And she gave the same answer when, a year later, Michael proposed.
At the register office, Annie held Zoe’s hand tightly and…
…couldn’t stop smiling. She felt like the happiest girl in the world.
“Can I… can I call you Mum now?”
Tears welled up in the young woman’s eyes.
“If that’s what you want, then of course you can. That would be the most precious word for me.”
Annie hugged her tightly.
Michael stood beside them, smiling.
Who would have thought that one moment could change his and Annie’s lives so completely?
But miracles do happen.
And that miracle, a fluffy little miracle, is now lying on the windowsill of their flat, waiting impatiently for its family to finally come home.
