Page 22

My fingers hover over the keypad.

It’s all I can think of doing.

I dial nine, then slowly and deliberately, nine again, and then once more and lift the phone to my ear. As I look up, every worst-case scenario is playing on a reel in my head: kidnapping, hit and run . . .

‘Which service do you—’

‘Got him!’ I hear a shout and look round.

‘Got him!’ A biker is waving at me and pointing to where one of his friends is coming into the car park, a hand resting on the shoulder of the small, familiar figure. I quickly cut the call and run towards them.

‘Oh thank God,’ I say. ‘Willow!’ Without thinking, I hug him tightly. He doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t pull away either.

‘Thank you so much,’ I say to the big, tattooed biker with him, who has a dyed pink Mohican.

‘No problem.’ He smiles widely.

‘Where did you find him?’

He turns and points.

‘Outside the takeaway, just on the other side of the road. The owner had to step in and stop him walking out in front of a car. I said I’d walk him back to you.’

‘What were you doing over there?’ I ask Willow. He shrugs.

‘He said it was the smell – he’d followed the smell,’ says the biker, patting Willow on the shoulder. ‘Take care of yourself, young man. Don’t go giving people heart attacks like that,’ he adds with a laugh.

‘Thank you again. Take care,’ I say as the six bikers put on their helmets and prepare to drive off. They wave and toot their horns as their engines roar to life with an exciting thrum, reminding me, and no doubt Willow, of Horse’s recent visit.

Willow waves as they drive past one by one. We watch them go, and I let out a huge sigh of relief. Willow is safe. He’s here. He was outside the Indian takeaway.

‘What were you doing over there, Willow?’ I ask him gently.

‘I like the smell. It reminds me . . .’ He trails off.

‘Reminds you . . . of what?’

He shrugs. ‘I made a friend.’

‘A friend?’

He nods.

I frown. ‘How old were they?’

He shrugs again. ‘Same as me. A girl.’

Relief is washing over me, and a feeling of responsibility for this small child, mingled with a wave of affection and warmth.

‘I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Willow,’ I say, pulling him towards me again. ‘I’ll keep you safe.’ At least, I will until a new family is found for him, I think. Someone more suitable than me, someone who can run after him, be quicker. Where there’s two of them, and maybe brothers and sisters. Much more than I can offer. And then I will let him go.

Then, surprising me, he says, ‘I’m hungry.’

I look at him. ‘Are you?’

He nods.

‘What do you want to eat?’