Prologue
A Trade for Magic Beans
London, Twenty-six Years Ago
London fog hid the sun while the wind cut like needles through Jackie’s threadbare clothes. Mum told him to wait while she spoke to the man in the car, so he huddled on the stoop, drawing his knees to his chest as the rats scurried along the cracks in the pavement to an opening in the bricks.
Sometimes the house was colder inside than outside. But not when it rained. When it rained, the air tasted of metal and ash.
Cars didn’t usually come down their street, especially not ones as black or shiny as the one parked at the curb. It must be warm in that car, Jackie thought, watching steam curl from the open window where Mum leaned.
A dog barked in the distance, raw and desperate until it turned hoarse.
Jackie shivered. “Mum?—”
Her finger pointed up, signaling silence before extracting a thick envelope from the hand that reached through the car window. She stuffed the item in her pocket as the sleek glass closed.
The car pulled away, red lights shrinking until the mist swallowed them whole.
She didn’t look at him when she turned. Instead, she kept her hands in her pockets and her gaze on the ground. “Come on, Jackie. You need a bath.”
“It’s too cold?—”
“No arguments.”
“Who was that?”
“No one.” She still wouldn’t meet his stare.
“What’s in the bag, Mum?”
Her hand pressed down on the bulge she’d tucked safely in her pocket. “Beans, Jackie. Just beans.”
“Magic beans?” he asked, skipping after her.
“I hope.”
When they walked into the building she didn’t touch him. She didn’t brush a hand over his hair or help him with his jacket like she normally did. At age six, he didn’t have a name for the cold weight that settled in his chest that day. His mother’s affection had always been a source of warmth. And the absence of it weighed heavier than hunger.
That was the day Mum’s tears started. Like an endless season of rain, her sadness went on so long, Jackie forgot what summer was like.
After his bath, Jackie shivered under blankets, but the chill wouldn’t leave his bones. Water trickled from the gutters as rain seeped through cracked plaster. He normally lay with Mum on colder nights, but she hadn’t stopped crying, so he left her alone.
The following day, when the church bells tolled, he awoke to his mother standing over him, her expression blank and her eyes flat.
“What’s wrong, Mum?”
She looked through him with that haunted stare. “Put on your blue jacket.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just you. It’s a surprise.” She wiped her eyes, the soft skin below her lashes red and raw. “Somewhere warm with lots of food and toys.”
“Why can’t you come with me?”
She shook her head, her dry, pale lips forming a flat line. “It’s not for mothers.”
Jackie was so hungry, he needed little more than the promise of food to get moving. “Then I’ll bring you something back.”
