She found a lost phone and returned it to its owner. But when he saw the pendant around her neck, he froze
“Lottie!” came the gruff shout of her stepfather from deep inside the flat.
“Wake up,” the girl thought sadly. “Here we go again”
Glancing around quickly, she grabbed a hoodie, threw it over her shoulders, and bolted out the door into the yard.
“Lottie, where are you off to?” came the frail voice of her grandmother. “Wont be long, Nan!”
At the entrance, two neighbours watched the girl uneasily. “Causing trouble again, is she?”
Lottie just gave them a polite nod, no malice in it. Maybe she could wait out his morning grumpiness somewhere on the street.
She ambled along the pavement leading to the corner shop, kicking stray pebbles as she went. The same thought circled her mind: “If Mum were still here he wouldnt treat me like this.”
Lotties mother, Eleanor, had passed away a year ago. A drunk driver had dozed off at the wheel, ploughing into a bus stop at full speed. Eleanor and three others died instantly. Several passengers were badly hurt. The driver only woke up when paramedics surrounded him.
After the funeral, the question arose: who would look after the girl? Her grandparents flat-out refused.
“Were too old to raise a teenager,” her nan had said. “Kids these days arent easy. And our health isnt what it used to be” Shed nudged her husband. “Go on, say something. We cant manage. Let her stay with Davehe adopted her anyway.”
David, Eleanors husband, had indeed legally adopted Lottie when she was born. But hed never really seen her as his own. He didnt hurt herhe just ignored her. At first, the little girl had called him “Dad,” but one day hed snapped, “Im not your dad. Call me Uncle Dave, got it?”
Lottie had wanted to ask her mother who her real father was, but Eleanor had only laughed it off. After her death, David started drinking more.
When Lottie turned seven, school loomed inevitably.
“Half my wages go on you,” her stepfather grumbled, tossing a new backpack filled with textbooks and stationery onto her bed. “Time to pull your weight. Cook for yourself, clean up after yourself. Basically, the house is your job now.”
“Oh, brilliant, who else would do it?” Lottie thought, but she nodded silently to avoid a row.
Soon after, David started sending her to the shop for groceries, having arranged with the cashier not to ask too many questions. At first, Lottie was embarrassed, but she got used to it. She even got used to the cashier slipping her the odd treat out of kindness.
And now, once again, she was walking the familiar path to the shop, cutting through the car park. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. A mobile phone.
Glancing around, Lottie picked it up.
“Blimey,” she muttered. “Not even scratched!”
She pressed the power buttonmiracle of miracles! It turned on, the screen unlocked. She plonked herself on a bench outside the shop and scrolled through the contacts. Most were business names with “Ltd” or “PLC” tacked on, followed by surnames. Then she spotted it: “Wife.” She dialled.
After a few rings, someone answered.
“Hello! I found your husbands phone,” Lottie said calmly.
“Hello. Howd you know who to call?”
“Wasnt locked. Found you in contacts.”
“Right. Where are you? Ill come fetch it.”
“Sure, but dont go snooping, yeah?” Lottie bristled slightly.
“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”
She gave the address and hung up. The second the screen went dark, it buzzed. The screen lit up: “Snout.” Lottie snorted, remembering a boy from nursery with a big noseher stepfather called him “Snouty the Nose Bug.”
“Hello?” she answered.
“Thats my phone! Borrowing a mates to call. Oh, from Snout, is it?”
“Exactly! So you said your wifes coming?”
“Shes nearly there. Any minute.”
“Waitwhats your name?”
“Lottie.”
“Alright, Lottie. Dont hand it over. Ill be right there. Where can I find you?”
She started explaining but was cut off.
“I know where you are. Was there an hour agomustve dropped it when I got in the car. Wait there!”
The call ended. Lottie tucked the phone under her hoodie and waited. Soon, a sleek red foreign car pulled up, and a stunning woman stepped out. Lottie gaped. The woman scanned the area and strode toward her.
“Hi, are you the one who called?”
“Nah, he ducked off. Said hed be back in a mo.”
“How inconsiderate!” The woman scowled. “Im in a rush!”
“Wonder where Im off to, then,” came a dry male voice behind them.
The woman turned to see a tall, dark-haired man. His face was serious, but his eyes were lively, amused.
“Didnt come for my card details, did you?” he continued. “Ran here like a rocket when you heard it wasnt locked?”
“Ooh, sharp!” She tried to laugh, but it was clear hed hit the nail on the head.
He sat beside Lottie.
“Hello! Thanks for finding my phone. Youre a proper decent kid. Tell your mumshell be proud.”
“I dont have a mum,” Lottie whispered, looking down.
She unzipped her hoodie and pulled out the phone. The man reached for it, then froze. His eyes locked onto the pendant around her necka tiny resin maple leaf with a ladybird at its base.
His wife tensed at his expression. She shut her eyes as if fleeing memories, and when she opened them, every muscle in her face seemed to rebel at the sight.
“Whered you get that?” he asked coldly, pinching the pendant between two fingers. The touch seemed to pain him, and he dropped it quickly. Lottie flinched back, startled.
“My mum gave it to me when she was alive Right, gotta get home.”
She jumped off the bench and bolted. But the man called after her:
“Wait! Im Robert Maxwell. How can I thank you?”
“Dont need anything. Bye.”
Lottie walked off, puzzled. “Whyd he react like that to my pendant?”
She remembered her mother slipping it over her head when she was five:
“Little fox, may it bring you the same happiness it brought me.”
“What happiness did it bring you?”
“You, silly! Youre my happiness!”
And Eleanor had spun her around the room, laughing, kissing her cheeks.
Lottie kept walking, unaware Robert was following at a careful distance. Hed sent his wife home; now, something inexplicable drew him to the girl.
When Lottie passed a bench of gossiping grannies and vanished into the building, Robert approached them.
“Evening, excuse me. Could you tell me which flat that girl lives in?”
“Whore you?” one asked suspiciously.
“Just wanted to return some money. She dropped a tenner in the shopcouldnt catch her in time. See, heres the receipt.”
“Oh, well, thats different!” The grannies softened. “Poor little Lottie, with that stepfather of hers Bet hes been at her again today. Up you go, give it to her.”
And they spilled everything they knew about the girls family. Just then, the sound of shattering crockery and a drunken bellow came from above
“LOTTIE, YOU LITTLE BRAT! WHERED YOU SKIVE OFF TO?”
Robert sprinted up the stairs and hammered on the door. It swung open instantly. David stood in the doorwayhaggard, red-eyed, reeking of booze.
“Who the hell are you?” he slurred, squinting at Robert.
Robert didnt answer. He just shoved past him. Inside, he found Lottie huddled on the sofa. She looked up, meeting his gazewarm, protective. Without a word, she stood, took his hand, and walked toward the door.
But David blocked their way.
“Where dyou think youre going?!” he tried to roar, but it dissolved into a cough.
Robert calmly pressed a palm to his forehead, gave a light shove, and David wobbled, then crumpled to the floor.
“Did you kill him?” Lottie whispered, eyeing the motionless heap fearfully.
“Dont be daft! Takes more than that to finish a bloke off,” Robert said,
