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Little Girl, Who Are You With?” I Asked.
“Hey, who are you looking for?” I asked.
A little girl, about six years old, stared up at me with big, serious eyes. “Im trying to find my mum. Have you seen her?”
I hesitated. Id only just moved into this building, and as far as I knew, the flat she was standing in front of had been empty the whole time.
“No one lives there, love,” I told her gently.
Her face crumpled, and she sank onto the stairs, crying. “Please, miss, we really need her! Dad misses her so much.”
I stood there, completely lost. I didnt have kids of my own, so I had no idea how to comfort her. Should I hug her? Offer her a cuppa? But shed never go with a stranger. Just then, my phone rang. I told her to stay put and rushed offbut when I came back, she was gone.
I couldnt stop thinking about her all evening. Later, I called my landlady, Mrs. Thompson, to ask about my neighbours.
“That flats been empty for years,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“A little girl came by earlier, looking for her mum.”
There was a pause, as if she was remembering something. “That must be Catherines daughter but shes been gone a long time. Her husband was left with a babycouldnt stay there, moved out. The place has been empty ever since.”
“Irene,” she added, “they live nearby now. If she comes back, take her home.” She gave me the address.
Time passed, and I got busy with worklate nights, early mornings. Then, just before Christmas, I heard quiet knocking and sniffles at my door. I flung it openthere she was again, the same little girl with grey eyes, crying.
“Whats wrong? Wheres your dad?”
“Hes at home. I just want my mum,” she whispered.
Remembering the address, I dashed to find it, but this time, I asked her to wait inside. She stepped in, glanced around, and curled up on the hallway stool. When I finally found the slip of paper, she was fast asleep, tucked into a little ball. I carefully carried her to the sofa and rang Mrs. Thompson.
“Sorry to bother you, but remember that girl I told you about? Shes here now. I was going to take her home, but she fell asleep. Her dad must be worried.”
“Irene, Ill pop round to theirs. Stay by the phone.”
I hung up and just watched her sleep. Brushed a stray curl from her face. My heart achedId always wanted children. Years ago, my husband and I were happy, ready to start a family. I got pregnant, but the stress of worklong hours, no breakstook its toll. I lost the baby.
The second time, I quit my job, but fate had other plans. Another loss. And after that, no matter how hard we tried, it never happened. Eventually, my husband left. I heard he had a daughter with someone else, but I cut ties completely. Seven years alone, drifting between rented flats.
A soft knock snapped me out of it. I opened the doorand nearly dropped my tea. My ex-husband stood there.
“George? What are you doing here?”
“I came for my daughter Wait, 5 Willow Lane, right?”
“Yeah. So shes yours?” I let him in. She was still asleep, so we went to the kitchen. I put the kettle on. Never in a million years did I think Id see him again. Lifes full of surprises.
“Are we bothering you? I can wake Annie and go.”
“Let her rest. Whats going on? She keeps coming back here, knocking on that empty flat.”
George rubbed his eyes, exhausted. Then he started talking.
“Years ago, we lived here with Kate. The flat was her granddads. After we married, we moved in. Then she got pregnantI was over the moon.”
His voice cracked. “When the time came, I took her to hospital. She was crying, scared like she knew. She made me promise to take care of the baby if anything happened. There were complications. They couldnt save her.”
“Im so sorry,” I whispered, touching his arm. Hed held it in all these years, but now the tears wouldnt stop.
Just then, tiny footsteps pattered into the room.
“Daddy?”
George scooped her up, hugging her tight. “Annie, why did you run off?”
“I just wanted to find Mummy.”
“Well find her, sweetheart. Just not yet. Lets go home.”
He turned to me. “Thanks, Irene. Heres my numberif she turns up again, call me. We live close by now. She knows the way.”
“How did she even know about this flat?” I asked.
“I showed her,” he sighed. “Had to collect some things. She saw Kates photos on the walls ever since, shes been dreaming of meeting her. I told her Mummys just away, but shell come back one day.”
They left, but George called a few days later. We started talking again. Weekends became trips to the park, cafés, the cinema. Annie grew attached to meeven called me “Mum” once.
One evening, George looked at me. “Irene, move in with us. No more renting. Annie misses you. Asks about you all the time.”
“And you?”
“Me too.” He took my hands. “Ive missed you. Im sorry for everything.”
So now were together. Raising our little miracleAnnie. Every day, I thank my lucky stars for this second chance: to be a wife, a mother.
And even if Annie isnt mine by blood, that doesnt stop me from giving her all the love Ive saved up inside.
“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…
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Igor Never Came Back from Holiday: “Why hasn’t your husband written or called?” “No word, Vera—not after nine days, not after forty,” Lyuda would joke, adjusting her work apron over her broad waist. “So he’s gone off the rails, or worse, then,” her neighbour nodded sympathetically. “Well, wait and see. Have the police said anything?” “Everyone’s silent, Vera—quiet as fish in that sea of his.” “Life, eh… fate.” That conversation weighed heavy on Lyudmila as she swept the autumn leaves from her doorstep in the dreary fall of 1988. Three years into her well-earned retirement, she’d had to take up work as a council cleaner to make ends meet. Life had always been simple—she and her husband, both dutiful workers, had raised a son, no scandal, no sorrow. Then Igor went on a seaside holiday and never returned. She’d phoned every hospital, every police station, even the morgue. Her son, stationed with the military, helped with inquiries—it was discovered Igor checked out of his hotel but never boarded the train home. Lyudmila wanted to go search for her husband, but her son insisted he’d handle it. Weeks passed, and she kept herself busy to stifle her fears. Then, as suddenly as he’d vanished, Igor reappeared—no suitcase, just the same navy suit and a weary silence. As she fussed to feed him and her son, the truth unravelled: Igor had been living with another woman by the sea, seeking “freedom.” The shock, the ache of betrayal—Lyudmila couldn’t bear it. Igor, shamed and lost, tried to return weeks later, but Lyudmila stood firm. It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the pain of not knowing, of years shared and suddenly made strange. She swept her pathway, watching leaves collect and blow away, knowing sometimes those who hurt us most have already gone with the wind. (Original Title Adapted for English Culture: Igor Never Came Back from Holiday: The Disappearance, the Heartbreak, and the Road Swept Clean)
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