**Happiness for Natalie**
Nat had been thinking about this for agesadopting a child from an orphanage. After six years of marriage, her husband had left her for someone younger and more successful, and she just felt drained. No energy left to try again, to find someone to share “for better or worse.” Nope, she was done. So she decided if she was going to pour love and warmth into anyone, it wouldnt be a partneritd be a child who truly needed it.
Right, then. She got to work. Spoke to social services, gathered all the paperwork. Now for the big partfinding the right boy to call her son, to give all that love shed stored up over her 38 years. She didnt want a babytoo afraid she wouldnt manage the sleepless nights, the nappies, the round-the-clock care. That ship had sailed. So she went looking for a little lad, maybe three to five years old, whod feel like hers from the start.
On the tram ride over, she was nervous as anythinglike going on a first date. Too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice spring had properly arrived: crisp air, silk-soft sunlight, everything waking up. The tram rattled round bends while Nat fretted about the child already out there, somewhere, not knowing fate was about to bring them together.
Outside, life went oncars humming, people rushing pastnone of them realising Natalie was on her way to meet her happiness. She turned to the window but barely saw a thing, already smiling at the boy shed meet in minutes.
There it washer stop. Literally called *”Childrens Home.”* Next one: *”Nursery.”*
She stepped out and there it wasan old manor house, columns flaking like badly done camouflage. Inside, the guard pointed her to the headmistresss office.
The woman was well on in years, wearing a stretched-out cardigan covered in bobbles. A bit rough round the edges, but her eyes? Sharp. Like shed been doing this forever. They didnt chat longNat had already phoned ahead.
“Right, thenshall we go meet them?” the headmistress said, standing.
Nat followed her down a corridor with dark blue panelling.
“Little ones are in the playroom,” the woman tossed over her shoulder. She pushed open the door, and they stepped in.
About fifteen kidsboys and girlswere sprawled on the carpet or digging through toy boxes. A carer sat by the window, scribbling notes, glancing up now and then to keep order.
The second the adults walked in, the children rushed over like clockwork, clinging to knees, shouting over each other:
“Youre here for me, arent you? Take me!”
“No, *Im* your daughter! I dreamed about you!”
The headmistress patted heads absently, giving Nat quick whispers about each child. But Nat just froze. She wanted to take *all* of them.
All of them except the boy sitting by the window. He hadnt moved, just turned to watch the familiar scene.
And for some reason, Nat walked straight to *him.* She rested a hand on his head.
Under her palm, slightly slanted eyesno clear colourstared up. They suited his round face, broad nose, barely-there eyebrows. Nothing like the boy shed imagined.
“You wont pick me,” he said flatly. But his gaze? Desperate.
“Whys that, love?” she asked, hand still on his hair.
“‘Cos Im always poorly. And Ive got a sister, Ellie. Shes tinyin the baby group. I go see her every day so she doesnt forget me. My names Jack, and Im not going *anywhere* without Ellie.”
Then, as if to prove his point, his nose started running.
And thats when Nat knew. Her whole life, shed been waiting for a snotty, sickly little boy named Jackand a sister shed never met but already loved.
