Olivia hated everyone… especially her mother.

Emily hated everyone especially her mother. She swore that the moment she left the orphanage she would track the old lady down.

No, she wasnt going to throw herself on her mothers neck and shout, Hello, Mum! Shed rather watch from a distance and then get her revenge. All those years in the childrens home had taught her that while she wept, her mother was out there living it up.

Emily never doubted that her mother was indeed doing just that.

Shed been in the home for as long as she could remember. A few times shed been shuffled to another branch because she kept fighting, and she didnt care whether her opponent was a boy or a girl.

The staff locked her in the solitary, took away sweets, punished her yet she still loathed the caretakers, the other children, the whole world.

At fourteen she finally stopped fighting. Not because shed suddenly grown a soft spot, but because everyone was already terrified of her.

Boredom set in. She would wander to the farcorner of the grounds, sit, and dream of the day shed find her mother and make her pay.

One afternoon a strange tune drifted through the air. Emily strained to hear it it was unlike anything shed ever heard.

She loved music and would freeze whenever something beautiful floated by, but this melody was both lovely and melancholy, a touch mournful, and she couldnt place its source.

She got up, tiptoed to the lilac bushes, and gently pushed them aside. Well, look at that, she muttered, someones new groundskeeper. Shed already teased him a bit.

She couldnt see what he was playing. As she reached out, she somehow tumbled straight into the shrubbery.

The man stopped playing, turned toward the bushes, and when Emily scrambled to her feet, she brushed herself off, ready to leave. Then he asked, halfsmiling:

Want a lesson?

Emily blinked. Me? Play like that? Ive never even tried.

She took a tentative step forward. The groundskeeper looked about fiftyodd, a strange sight for someone still on the payroll.

She began visiting him every day. At first he simply showed her how to blow a simple wooden flute, which he himself carved quirky little instruments, oddly graceful.

When Emilys first true notes emerged, she couldnt help but hug the man. Thats when they really started talking.

His name was Arthur Green, and he lived in a modest cottage on the orphanage grounds.

Why, you have no family, no home? he asked.

I once had everything, Arthur. A house, a family Ten years ago my wife, Catherine, died. I thought Id never get on without our son He sighed. Then I married again a lovely girl, a bit greedy, but she liked my son, Sam.

Five years later Sam was killed in a car crash. My flat, a threebedroom in the town centre, was transferred to him. My daughterinlaw packed my suitcase and sent it off in all directions.

Why didnt you fight back?

Whats the point, Emily? Ive got no one left. All my loves are gone. I just need to get through the days until my own turn comes. I need nothing else.

Emily suddenly felt she despised Arthurs daughterinlaw even more than her own mother. At first she thought of taking revenge on the daughterinlaw, then on her mother.

When Arthur discovered how much the angry girl inside Emily resembled a wild wolf, he shuddered. How could a poor soul manage such hatred?

They talked often. Arthur sensed Emily softening. She stopped lashing out, grew gentler. The urge to prove herself by fists faded.

One day he asked:

Emily, youll be leaving in a year. Any idea what youll do then?

She stared, bewildered.

No I havent thought about it. Ive only been scheming how to get back at my mother.

Suppose you do get revenge. First youll have to find her. Money? Well skip that detail. What about after?

She fell silent, walked away, and didnt show up for a week. When she finally returned she announced:

I want to build.

For twelve months they prepared for a construction college. Emily knew university was a long road, perhaps for the future

The day she left for the new town, they lingered on the bench, watching the sunset. That evening she boarded a coach to the city where shed study and, for the first time in years, she wept.

Arthur, Ill come back to see you. I promise, she sniffed.

Deal. I wont disappear. You finish your studies, get on your feet, and then we can have a proper catchup. And youll be visiting an old man, yes?

What old man?

He handed her a wooden flute as a parting gift.

—

Almost fifteen years later, Emily married late, never quite finding a partner who truly understood her. At thirty she had a daughter, Poppy, and almost immediately the marriage fell apart. All her joy lived in tiny Poppy.

Now she could afford a decent life, and when she finally earned enough, she put out a missingperson notice for her mother.

The search wrapped up faster than Emily expected. Her mother, a lone, impoverished woman who had wanted a child for herself, learned two months before giving birth that she was seriously ill.

She was battling cancer, as doctors warned, and was given only a year. In the delivery ward she made the heartbreaking decision to give the baby up. No doctor condemned her for it. Emily later tracked down the grave, where a tall angel statue stood.

She thought of Arthur often, but when she returned to Ashford after all those years, he was nowhere to be found. The orphanage director had changed, and most of the old staff had turned over.

When she stole a spare moment, Emily and Poppy strolled to the local park. Poppy, with a grin, declared she wanted to save the whole world.

At six, she was already a clever little schemer, coaxing her mother into any expense before a park visit.

Lets buy sweets for every child, feed the ducks with loaves, and because its boiling, we need at least ten scoops of icecream, shed say. Today she demanded:

Mum, could you get me a sausage roll, a loaf, and a drink, please?

Emily stared, baffled.

Whos asking this time?

Mum, maybe youd rather not know? No need to get worked up.

Poppy, were not going anywhere.

Mum, theres a man, he has no home.

Who?!

Emily felt her heart stop. Poppy smiled, as if to say, I told you so.

Mum, why are you so nervous? Hes just an old man, no one lives with him.

He wasnt begging like others; he was shy. He knew more nursery rhymes and poems than anyone else. Do you mind the sausages? he asked.

Emily, a senior executive in a large construction firm, didnt know what to answer. She bought everything Poppy asked for and they headed to the park.

Poppy settled on a bench.

Mum, sit here while I go to the pond. See that old man? Thats him.

Emily actually saw a poorly dressed elder near the water, surrounded by children, and she relaxed a little.

The main thing was that her daughter was visible.

That night she curled up with a book on the sofa. Poppy was in her room. Suddenly Emily heard a familiar tune.

Silence. Then again, that same melody from years ago. She darted to Poppys room, eyes wide.

Mum, did I wake you?

Poppy! What was that?

Thats the old man teaching us the flute. Im getting it, but the transition at the start just wont work.

Poppy sighed. In her hands was a wooden flute. Emily looked at her, tears welling.

Let me show you. It took me ages to get the hang of it too

Emily played the whole piece, then burst into tears. Memories flooded her, overwhelming her. Poppy, genuinely frightened, asked:

Mum, why are you so sad? Did the music upset you? Should I stop playing?

Emily shook her head, left the room, and a minute later returned with the same flute, now slightly dulled by time.

Poppy, do you know where that man lives?

Mum, by the pond. Hes got his boxes behind the bushes.

Lets go, love.

They found him straight away. Poppy shouted:

Granddad!

He emerged from the foliage.

Whats wrong, little one? Why arent you home?

Arthur Green, good day.

He shuddered as if struck. He stared at Emilys face for a long moment.

Emily, it cant be.

She clung to him tightly.

It can. Stop feeding the mosquitoes, lets get home.

Where to?

Home, Arthur. If it werent for you, Id have nothing. So my home is always yours.

All the way back, Arthur wiped away tears that had been bothering him for ages. If Emily hadnt held his hand, he might have fallen long ago.

Now, with a quiet confidence, he knew he wouldnt wander alone into the night, unwanted by anyone.