There were guests in the house. There were almost always guests in their house.
Everyone sipped and sippedbottles everywherebut not a crumb to eat. Youd be lucky to find a crust of bread, but the only things on the table were cigarette ends and an empty sardine tin. Leon took another careful look at the table; nothing.
Oh well, Mum, Im off, said the boy and slowly started to wriggle into his battered old shoes.
He still hoped that Mum might, just this once, stop himmight say something like, “Where are you off to, love, without any breakfastand its freezing out there! Stay home. Ill make some porridge, chuck out these so-called friends, and give the place a good scrub.”
He always longed for a gentle word from his mum, but she wasnt one for tenderness. Her words were prickly, and Leon always wanted to shrink away and hide.
This time, he decided he wasnt coming back. Leon was six years old and considered himself perfectly grown-up. First order of business: earn some money and buy a bun. Maybe even two buns, if fortune smiledhis stomach was grumbling and demanding attention.
Leon had no idea how to earn cash, but as he passed by the corner shops in town, he spotted an empty bottle poking out of a snowdrift, slipped it into his pocket, found a discarded carrier bag, and spent several hours gathering bottles.
Soon he had a real clinking collection. He already pictured spending his wealth on something fancya soft, fragrant Chelsea bun, maybe with currants, or even with icing. But then, judging by the number of bottles, icing seemed ambitious. Perhaps he should collect a few more, just to be sure.
Up at the railway platform, where men waited for their commuter trains and guzzled lagers, Leon dropped his heavy bag by the kiosk and dashed for a freshly abandoned bottle. While he sprinted, a grim, unwashed man swung by, pinched his stash, and gave Leon such a menacing look that the skinny little owner turned tail and walked away.
His dreams of buns vanished like mirages.
“Collecting bottlesnow theres a tough gig,” Leon thought, trudging through slushy, gluey snow.
His feet were wet; worse yet, they were freezing. It was getting properly dark. Leon rather lost track of where he was, ended up in the doorway of a block of flats, collapsed on the landing, shuffled over to the radiator, and drifted off into a deep, toasty sleep.
When he woke, he thought he must be dreaming, because he was warm, safe, snug, andoh!something delicious was wafting through the flat.
A woman with the kindest smile walked in.
Well then, young man, she said gently, warmed up? Slept well? Lets get you some breakfast. I was coming home last night and found you fast asleep in the hallway, looking like a stray puppy. I scooped you up and brought you inside.
Is this my home now? Leon asked, not quite believing his luck.
If youve nowhere else, it can be, she replied.
From then on, it was all a bit fairy-tale. The kind lady fed him, looked after him, bought him new clothes. Gradually, Leon told her everything about his life with his mum.
Her name, he learned, was Violeta name hed never heard before; being so young, it sounded magical to him. He decided only good fairies had such wonderful names.
Would you like me to be your mum? she asked one day, hugging him tightjust like a real, loving mum.
He did, of course. But happiness stuck around just a week. His actual mum showed up, almost sober and more than a little loud, railing at the woman whod sheltered him. Hes my son, Ive still got my rights! They havent taken them yet.
His mum dragged him away. Snowflakes drifted down, and Leon thought the home he was leaving looked very much like a white castle.
Life after that took a turn for the worse. Mum drank, Leon ran away, slept in train stations, scavenged bottles, bought bread. Didnt get close to anyone or ask for help.
Eventually, social services intervened and his mum lost custody. Leon was placed in a childrens home.
The saddest part was that he couldnt remember where that white castle wasor where the kind woman with the fairy tale name lived.
Three years went by.
Leon stayed at the children’s home, just as quiet and withdrawn as ever. His favourite pastime was hiding away and drawing. He always drew the same picturea white house, and snowflakes falling from the sky.
One day, a journalist came to visit. The house mother guided her round, introducing all the children. She stopped by Leon.
Leons a lovely boya bit different, struggles with the group, even after all these years. Were working hard to find him a proper family, she explained to the journalist.
Pleased to meet youIm Violet, the journalist said to Leon.
Leon perked up, came aliveand talked! He told her, with utter joy, about another kind Aunt Violet. As he spoke, his spirit thawed, his cheeks glowed, his eyes sparkled. The house mother was amazed by the transformation.
It turned out the name Violet was the golden key to Leon’s heart.
The journalist Violet couldnt hold back tears, listening to Leons story. She promised to run a story about him in the local newspapermaybe the kind woman would read it and realise Leon was waiting to find her.
She kept her promise. And then, a miracle.
The kind woman didnt subscribe to the paper, but it was her birthday; her colleagues gave her flowers, wrappedinstead of paper, as it was the dead of winterin a local newspaper. Sitting at home, unwrapping the blooms, she noticed the headline on a small feature: Kind-hearted Violet, a boy named Leon is searching for you. Please respond!
She read the piece and instantly realised her little friend was waiting for herthe boy she once found asleep in a hallway and had wanted to adopt.
Leon recognised her straight away. He rushed to her, and they hugged. Everyone at the childrens home criedLeon, Violet, even the house staff.
Ive waited so long for you, Leon said.
It was hard getting Leon to let her go home. She couldnt take him right awaythere were procedures to follow for adoptionbut she promised shed come every day to visit.
P.S.
Leon went on to have a happy life. Hes now 26 years oldgraduated from a technology institute, planning to marry a wonderful girl. Hes cheerful, sociable, and adores his Mum Violet, to whom he owes everything.
It was only after hed grown up that Violet told him her storyhow her husband had left her because they couldnt have children. Shed felt utterly lonely and uselessuntil the day she found Leon in that hallway, warming him with her love.
After his mum took him back, Violet had sighed, Maybe it wasnt meant to be. She was beside herself with joy when she rediscovered him at the children’s home.
Leonid tried to learn more about his birth mothers fate. He found out theyd rented a flat in town. Years ago, shed run off in an unknown direction with a newly released ex-convict. He didnt look any further. Why would he?
