Charlies bright childhood came to an abrupt end when he was five. One rainy morning his parents never arrived to pick him up from the nursery. All the other tots had already been collected, but the little lad was still at the table, doodling pictures of himself, Mum and Dad. The carer kept glancing over his shoulder, repeatedly wiping at his cheeks as if shed just spritzed him with lemonscented water. Finally she scooped him up, pressed him close, and said in a tone that would make a teashop owner sound reassuring:
Whatever happens, you mustnt be scared, Charlie. Youve got to be brave now. Got that, little man?
I want my mum, he whispered.
Your aunt and uncle will be here soon. Youll go with them. Therell be lots of other children, just dont cry, she cooed, pressing her damp face against his.
She then took his hand and led him to the car. When he asked when Mum would be back, the answer was that Mum and Dad lived far away far enough that they couldnt fetch him that very day. He was put in a shared dorm with a gaggle of boys his age. Yet neither the aunt nor the uncle turned up the next day, nor the day after. Charlies nights became a blur of tears, and the constant sobbing gave him a fever.
Only when a nurse in a crisp white coat visited after hed recovered did someone explain the skyparents theory. Your parents are up there now, in the heavens. They cant come down, but theyre watching you. Everyone knows you, so you must behave and stay healthy, otherwise theyll be sad.
Charlie stared at the sky and saw nothing but gulls and clouds. He decided to hunt for his actual parents.
He started by scouring the orphanage garden during his walks. Behind a rosebush he discovered a tiny gap in the fence, its metal bars bent like an old radiator. He could only squeeze halfway through, so he began to dig a slow, sandy tunnel. After a while, where the bars were furthest apart, a narrow opening appeared. He wriggled through, burst into the fresh air, and fled the grim home the other boys called the home.
He wandered the streets of Manchester, clueless and soon hopelessly lost. Every house looked the same brick, slate roofs, garden fences. At a crossroads he spotted a woman whose dress was dotted with white polkaspots and whose hair was tied up in a neat bun uncannily like his mothers.
Mum! he shouted, lunging after her.
She didnt hear him; she kept walking. He grabbed her arm, yelling, Mum! She finally turned, crouched, and looked at him with bewildered eyes.
No, Im not your mother, she said politely.
—
Poppy, twenty, had fallen headoverheels for Victor at a summer dancefloor. Hed shyly asked her for a slow dance, they chattered, and before long he was glued to her side. Three months later they were married, living as the pictureperfect couple. After three years the doctor delivered the dreaded news: Poppy couldnt have children. Victor, unable to swallow the fact, pushed her into endless checkups and sparetreats. Eventually they accepted that a baby would never arrive. Victor suggested they might adopt a youngster from the Childrens Home.
Poppy loved Victor so fiercely she offered him a divorce, insisting he find someone who could give him the family he wanted. She was nearing thirty, still young enough to dream. Victor, however, refused to let go. He swore hed never abandon her. So Poppy concocted a cunning plan: she confessed to Victor that she no longer loved him and had a lover. Victor, understandably stunned, didnt believe her. The next night she didnt return home, coming back at dawn smelling of wine and mens aftershave. When Victor pressed for details she clung to the single line, I have a lover. He finally consented to divorce.
—
When Charlie called out Mum! Poppy had been two months into her divorce, feeling oddly hollow and missing Victor. The sudden proclamation from a stranger made her heart skip a beat.
Are you lost, little lad? she asked softly.
Im looking for my Mum and Dad. They told me theyre in the sky, but I dont believe that, Charlie sobbed.
Come along, I live just down the road. Ive got some lovely cupcakes, want one? she offered, taking his hand.
At her cosy flat, Charlie polished off two creamfilled cupcakes shed bought, washing them down with steaming tea infused with redcurrant leaves. He told her everything how older boys had hoarded sweets and called him names, even giving him a painful slapontheback now and then.
Poppys heart melted. Charlie, would you like to stay with me? Well live together, and when youre older youll understand everything. One day youll meet your parents, just not today, she whispered. He nodded eagerly.
She phoned the childrens home, reported the find, and personally drove Charlie back. She spoke with the carers, urging them to watch the younger kids more closely, and she began visiting daily. She couldnt adopt him she had a modest flat, a steady job at a solicitors office, but no husband, and single women rarely got custody in England. She regretted the divorce, but didnt know how to win Victor back.
In a moment of desperation she floated the idea of a sham marriage to a colleague, Stan, whod recently split and was a notorious charmer but also an excellent accountant. Hed need a proper certificate from his firm, which he could arrange for a fee. Stan hesitated, then agreed on condition that she covered the costs. He liked Poppy, she liked the security, and he promised a candlelit dinner afterwards.
The arrangement soured quickly. One evening, when Poppy arrived at Charlies dorm, she found the boy sporting a bruised eye a warning from senior lads for tattling. The carers, instead of protecting the kids, whispered about her involvement with Charlie, hinting trouble ahead.
The next day Poppy accepted Stans proposal. She donned a scarlet dress (as Stan requested), lit candles, and prepared a dinner. She felt a bitter knot in her stomach, but shed promised to rescue Charlie.
A knock echoed through the flat. She shuffled to the door, halfexpecting Stan, but there stood Victor, looking dishevelled, eyes wide.
Ive been watching you, Poppy, he said, I never saw anyone else enter your flat. I never left.
Just then the lift doors burst open and Stan tumbled out, clutching a bouquet and a bottle of champagne.
Poppy, love, Im here Stan blurted.
Victor flushed, fists clenched, then turned and fled down the stairs, hopping into a tram that roared away.
Poppy watched him disappear, tears welling, while Stan stood mortified. She escorted him out, her heart torn between the man shed once loved and the boy shed promised to protect.
Two years later, Charlie strutted proudly across the school assembly line, dressed in a crisp blazer and white shirt, clutching a massive bouquet for his teacher. His parents now Poppy, Victor, and a newlyadopted daughter, Lily beamed from the front row. Lily, a cheeky little thing, kept dangling from her fathers arm, while Poppy wore a dress reminiscent of the polkaspot one shed first worn when she found Charlie.
It turned out Stan wasnt the scoundrel after all. He met with Victor, cleared the air, and they all laughed over the absurdity of the past. The following day Victor rushed to Poppys office, grabbed her hand, and whisked her off to the register office to finally tie the knot again this time for good, so they could legally adopt Charlie.
They still visit the childrens home, bringing gifts and treats. Lily was taken in as soon as she arrived, and Charlie now enjoys a stable, loving family.
Mom, Dad, I promise Ill study hard, Charlie whispered to the sky one evening, eyes bright. Dont mind that I have other parents now. I love them, but theyre only temporary until I can see my real ones again.
He knew his birth parents had perished in a car crash; their stone lay in a quiet cemetery. Yet every Sunday he attended the parishs Sunday school, looking up at the vaulted ceiling, feeling the skys gentle embrace.
Poppy had once refused to see Victors side, but fate had a funny way of looping back. She remarried Victor, and everyone in the tale lived, if not blissfully, at least contentedly ever after.