Where’s My Child?

Michael stood exactly where he’d left Emily five minutes ago, glancing around in confusion while a strange, growing unease clawed at his chest. She was nowhere.

Among the sea of children, he couldn’t find one single girl. His daughter.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath. “Where’d she go? I only popped out for five minutes.” Then he spotted Miss Jenkins, Emily’s class teacher, who was lining up a group of frowning first‑graders by height, and he rushed over.

“Where’s my child? A girl with big white bows. She’s supposed to be with you. And she’s not here.”

Michael was so worked up he didn’t notice he’d raised his voice.

The young teacher flinched and stared at him, taken aback.

“Sorry… who exactly? All my lot seem to be here.”

“My daughter. Emily. She was right here a minute ago, and now she’s gone! She’s in your class. Don’t you remember us?”

“Sorry, I have twenty‑nine kids in my class, and we’ve only met a few times.”

“So?”

“I haven’t memorised every child’s and parent’s face yet.”

“And that’s supposed to excuse it?”

“Look, every other parent personally brought their child to me. You… didn’t. You’ve only just come up to me now. I get it’s chaos and all, but… why did you leave your daughter alone? Can’t you see how many people are in the school today? A seven‑year‑old could get lost – even an adult could.”

“I only popped out to the shop for a bottle of water. Emily wanted a drink. I came back – and she was gone. Blimey, you’re the teacher! Shouldn’t you have been watching them? So where do I look now? Where could she have gone?”

Miss Jenkins took a deep breath. It was her first day, her very own class, and this felt like a bad dream.

“Calm down, sir. What did your daughter look like?”

“I told you – she had big white bows in her hair.”

“Sorry, but I’ve got fifteen girls in my class, and they’re all wearing white bows. Any other details? What was she wearing, for instance?”

Michael paused. He was so flustered and panicked that he couldn’t think of anything else. That morning he’d helped tie those very bows, straightened her collar, worried about her white tights getting dirty – and now he realised he could barely describe her.

“Well… she’s seven, with brown eyes and long dark hair.”

“That’s better. Anything else you remember?”

“Er… she’s got a yellow backpack with ducklings on it! She loves animals, so she picked that one. No other kid has one like that. God, where could she be?” Michael mumbled, still frantically scanning the area.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. She can’t have left the school grounds. Your Emily must be somewhere around here. Wait for me – I’ll be right back.”

Miss Jenkins hurried to her pupils, who were fidgeting impatiently while waiting for the assembly to start. She counted them again, paying special attention to the girls. But among the pretty white‑bowed girls there was no Emily, 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 students, Miss Jenkins dashed back to Michael.

“None of Emily’s classmates saw her,” she said. “She couldn’t have got inside the school. So your daughter must be somewhere on the grounds. I suggest we search together.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“I think that’s a bit much. We’ll definitely find Emily,” said Miss Jenkins, trying to sound calm and confident, even though she was just as worried.

So the father and the teacher set off to look for Emily.

They quickly circled the school yard, checked the playground, and went back to the security guard at the gate several times. Still nothing. No one had seen Emily.

“Doesn’t your daughter have a phone?” Miss Jenkins asked as they headed to the back yard – the only spot they hadn’t checked yet.

“Yes, she does,” Michael sighed. “Only, her phone’s with me. I forgot to give it to Emily…”

“That’s a shame,” the teacher sighed back.

“Please let nothing have happened… please let nothing have happened,” Michael whispered.

Miss Jenkins didn’t answer. She was thinking that now she was responsible not only for the children but also for the parents’ trust. And if something serious had actually happened to the girl…

Meanwhile, the little girl with white bows and a yellow duckling backpack was standing in the school’s back yard under a tall tree, talking to a kitten that sat on a branch right above her head, unable to climb down. She’d tried everything to coax it down, but the kitten just mewed pitifully.

“Come on, little one, jump,” Emily said. “I’ll catch you. Honest, I will.”

The kitten seemed to try, but at the last second fear locked its limbs, and it clung to the branch, mewing even more sorrowfully. Emily nearly cried.

When she realised she couldn’t manage on her own, she ran for help.

And as she turned the corner of the school, she unexpectedly bumped into her dad and Miss Jenkins. They both looked strangely anxious.

“Sweetheart, where did you go?” Michael rushed over. “I nearly went out of my mind. What were you doing?”

“Dad, can you tell me off later, please?” Emily replied. “Right now… I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“Come with me.”

She took her father’s hand and with the other tugged Miss Jenkins, leading them confidently behind the school.

Baffled, the adults exchanged glances and silently followed the girl. Finally Emily stopped under the tree and pointed up.

“There’s a tiny kitten. See? Dad, please get it down.”

“Emily, don’t you want to tell me how you got here? Where did I tell you to wait?”

“I was standing by the fence waiting for you, and 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 it. I shooed the dog away… but I couldn’t reach the kitten.”

“You shooed a big dog away?” Miss Jenkins asked, surprised.

“Uh‑huh,” Emily nodded. “I told it my dad was coming and if it didn’t leave, my dad would give it what for. And it left. But the poor kitten stayed up here. Daddy, will you get it down? How long are you going to stand around doing nothing?” She stamped her foot crossly. “He’s scared…”

Michael eyed the thin branches sceptically and realised his ninety‑plus kilos were no use. But the teacher – slim, light – she could do it.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Miss Jenkins asked, alarmed. “I’m not climbing. I can’t even reach the branch.”

“I’ll give you a boost,” Michael grinned.

“No way!”

“Please,” Emily took the teacher’s hand. “Look how scared he is. What if he falls?”

Miss Jenkins looked up.

The kitten mewed again, as if it really understood it was the topic of conversation.

“All right,” she said at last. “Only if you –” she looked at Michael – “hold me very tight and don’t drop me.”

“Promise everything will be fine,” Michael smiled.

Miss Jenkins sat on Michael’s broad shoulders; he lifted her easily. Then she stood up on his shoulders, grabbed a branch with one hand, and with the other – to the delighted cheers of the girl and her father – she strained to reach the kitten.

“A bit more…” Michael encouraged. “Almost got it.”

The kitten backed away nervously at first, then, gathering courage, took a cautious step towards her…

“You did it! You did it!” Emily clapped joyfully. “You’re brilliant, Miss Jenkins. Dad, hold her tight. Don’t drop her.”

When Miss Jenkins finally landed on the ground, Emily immediately reached for the kitten and hugged it.

It at once began to purr softly.

“Well, well,” Michael smiled. “Thank goodness, everyone’s safe and sound. But you really scared me, sweetheart, with your mysterious disappearance.”

“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just couldn’t leave him on his own. He couldn’t get down by himself.”

Michael looked at Emily and shook his head.

It was for that kind heart that he loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

“Can we take him home?” Emily asked, pointing at the kitten.

“After an introduction like that, I think it’d be hard to say no,” Michael chuckled.

“Then keep an eye on him while I go get the textbooks. And don’t get lost anywhere – so Miss Jenkins and I don’t have to search for you again.”

The teacher couldn’t help laughing.

“Goodness knows what your mum will say when you turn up home with this little fellow.”

“I don’t have a mum…” the girl sighed. “But I really wish I did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Miss Jenkins blinked, flustered.

“It’s fine,” Michael smiled. “She left us five years ago. Went abroad. And I haven’t heard from her since. More to the point – Emily and I haven’t heard a thing.”

For a few seconds the back yard fell silent. Miss Jenkins looked at them – at the big, slightly awkward man with kind eyes and the little girl holding a grey kitten – and something tugged hard at her heart.

“But now we’ve got Mittens,” Emily announced firmly, stroking the kitten.

“You’ve already named him?” Michael grinned.

“Of course. How can you live without a name?”

*****

Michael always came to pick up Emily himself. Sometimes he and Miss Jenkins exchanged only a few words; other times the conversation stretched until the school yard was completely empty. They talked about Emily’s progress, funny stories from class, books, films, pets – and gradually they stopped noticing that they were talking about more than just school.

One day Michael waited in the corridor until all the children had left, then walked resolutely into the classroom.

Miss Jenkins smiled broadly at first, then, seeing the beautiful bouquet in his hands, looked surprised.

“These are for you,” Michael said, his voice a little rough, holding out the flowers. “And also… I’d like to invite you to dinner tonight. I mean – Emily and I really want you to have dinner with us. The three of us. What do you say, Miss Jenkins?”

The teacher blushed, felt her ears burning traitorously, but… she took the flowers.

They smelled of autumn, of home, and somehow – of hope.

“All right,” she answered simply. “I’d love to.”

And that was exactly what Miss Jenkins said to Michael a year later when he asked her to marry him.

At the registry office, Emily held Miss Jenkins’ hand tightly and…

…couldn’t stop smiling. At that moment she felt like the happiest girl in the world.

“Can I… can I call you Mum now?”

The young woman’s eyes welled up.

“If you want to, then of course you can. It would mean the world to me.”

Emily hugged her tightly.

Michael stood beside them, smiling.

Who would have thought that one moment could change his and Emily’s lives so completely?

But miracles do happen.

And that miracle – a sweet, fluffy one – was currently lying on the windowsill in their flat, waiting impatiently for its family to finally come home.