Nick Arrived on the Callout. He Was Greeted by a Boy of About Ten and a Young Girl. “Mum Will Be Home Soon, Please Come In! The Kitchen Tap Is Dripping,” Said the Boy.

Nigel pulled up for a job. The door was opened by a rather grown-up lad of about ten, accompanied by a little girlher pigtails almost as serious as her expression.

Mum will be back soon, come on in! The kitchen taps leaking, the boy informed him.

Nigel stepped inside and quickly sorted out the tap.

Dad would have done it himself, but hes a pilot. Hes never home, the boy added solemnly, as if explaining quantum physics.

Mum returned and paid Nigel, while the boy came out to see him off.

We havent got a dad whos a pilot. Mum just made it up, he blurted suddenly.

Nigel had just wrapped up his last job that afternoonreplacing a bathroom tap for an elderly lady who made a mean Victoria spongeand was about to call it a day when work rang. Could he swing by one last address? Another tap, this time in the kitchen.

Nigel had worked for half a year at a small company that dealt with odd jobs: plumbing, cleaning, and the mysterious art of assembling flat-pack furniture without crying.

He arrived, rang the bell, and was greeted by a serious-faced boy and a blonde girl, ever so slightly smallerher stare could curdle milk.

No adults about? he asked, surprised.

Works handbook was explicit: dont enter if an adult isnt present.

Mumll be here soon, honestly! The kitchen taps leaking. Tried fixing it with some tape, but its still a disaster. Dont think were skintweve got enough cash, the boy assured him with the urgency of a small child trying to negotiate pudding.

Nigel, trusting his sense for wayward children, went in. He dismantled the tap and replaced the valve.

Suddenly, the girl piped up, My desk wobbles, and the switch in my rooms funny.

Dad would have sorted it, but hes a pilot. Flies all over the place, cant get home at all, she continued, parroting what was likely her mothers well-worn script.

Mum arrivedmid-thirties, pretty, and wearing the exhausted air of a woman whos been running late for the past seven years. She was quite startled by her childrens initiative.

Wed never get anything done if I waited for you, Mumyou always say youll call someone and never do, the boy explained.

She paid Nigel (in nice, crisp pounds), and the girl reminded him about the desk and the switch.

They set a time for tomorrow. Nigel handed over his business card.

The boyOscar, as Nigel now learnedwalked him out with the bin bags.

We havent got a dad whos a pilot. Mum says things like that cause she thinks were daft. If we had a dad, hed have come for a birthday at least. Mum buys us the presents, then says theyre from him. She picked out Emilys doll herself, but told her Dad sent it, Oscar confided, matter-of-fact and heartbreakingly grown-up.

Oh, you never know, Nigel replied. Sometimes people cant get away from work, all sorts of things can happen.

Oscar just looked at him, gave a shrug that could have been fifty years old, and said nothing.

At home, Nigel chewed over the word pilot. It stirred up memories: he had once been a pilot, too.

Hed lived in London, flying here and there, married to a dazzling woman who wanted his feet on the ground. No children, endless arguments.

So youll go off chasing clouds and Im supposed to stay home with nappies? No chance! shed huffed.

Her parents eventually moved to Australia, invited them along, settled in quickly. She left Nigel and went to join them.

Hed stuck with flying, but fell ill and had to retire. His logbook was full, his sense of purposea bit less so.

He went to live with his mother in a small town somewhere in Kent. It felt oddly restful until, half a year later, she died suddenly.

Thats when Nigel went a bit off the railsnot the reckless sort, just enough late nights and the wrong kind of company that a small town offers. He sobered up sharp after a dream where his mother stood by the window, crying.

He cleared out the hangers-on, dusted himself off, spruced up his flat. Then he got bored stiff.

Browsing the local paper one afternoon, he found an ad: a maintenance company needed jacks-of-all-trades with their own car. He signed upfor something to do, and a bit of spending money (it kept him in M&S sandwiches).

He liked the flexible hours. Pick a day off if he fancied the cricket.

Next day, his final call was the now-familiar address. He expected Oscar and Emilys mum to be late again, but she was already home.

Nigel fixed the wobbly desk, sorted the dodgy switch, straightened a sagging shelf, and nudged the kitchen cupboard doors back into alignment.

He poked his head into the bathroom and froze.

You need a whole refurbishment in here, he declared.

If youll do it, Ill happily pay you, said Lucythat was her name. Weve got some savings. Should be enough.

They got chatting while he worked. Lucy was a nursery teacher, cheerful despite being run ragged.

Stay for teayou must be starving after all that, she suggested, a bit shyly.

The children insisted too and dragged him to the table.

Tea lasted ages. The kids zonked out, but he and Lucy sat on. Nigel, who almost never spoke about his past, found himself telling her everything. Lucy listened like she had all the time in the world.

She had had no husbandjust two ill-fated relationships, and two children, three years apart. The pilot dad had been her invention, a placeholder until she could work out what to say.

It was midnight when Nigel left, with a promise to come back tomorrowthere was plenty left to do.

The next evening, Lucy opened the door and froze. In walked Nigel, in an old pilots uniform, holding flowers and a cake.

Dad! Our pilot-dad came home! shrieked Emily, throwing herself at him.

Im backjust didnt recognise you for a while, its been ages. Right, Lucy? Nigel said, giving her a look so full of hopeful mischief she could only nod.

And just like that, Lucys incomplete family became wholeand happy.

Oscar took a little time, but soon accepted his returned dad. Nigel formally adopted Oscar and Emily, and a year and a half later, the family welcomed baby Henry.

So, if you enjoy reading our stories, please leave a comment, and dont forget a thumbs-upit honestly keeps us going!