**A Visit to Mums**
We went to visit my mother. As we walked into the building, we found a five-year-old boy crying his eyes out.
Why are you crying? I asked.
Between sobs, he answered, I came to see my nan. I was playing in the garden, and when I got back, she wouldnt open the door.
I reassured him, Dont worry, love. Shes probably just popped to the shops. Shell be back soon.
But the poor little thing wouldnt stop crying.
Whats your name?
Ja-a-cob
Which flats yours?
N-n-nineteen
The residents of flat nineteen were new, and I hadnt met them yet. I rang the bell, but no one answered. I couldnt leave the boy on the stairs.
Come on, Jacob. Youll be my guest. Ill leave a note on your nans door.
Back at my flat, while my husband kept Jacob company, I scribbled a note: Jacobs in flat 32. I hurried down and pinned it to the door.
When I returned, Jacob was already racing toy cars with my son, laughing as if nothing had happened.
I wiped his face and asked, Fancy some vegetable soup?
Yes, please.
He devoured the bowl in seconds.
For the main, theres shepherds pie. Want some?
Yes!
His appetite was remarkablehe wolfed down two helpings.
Fancy jam roly-poly or juice?
Tea.
I raised an eyebrow. At his age, Id only drink tea if there was no pudding left.
We sat sipping tea with biscuits while Jacob and my husband debated the merits of different car brands and their top speeds.
Then my mum arrived. I explained our little guest.
Thats odd, she said. A woman your age lives in flat nineteen.
I shrugged. A forty-year-old could easily be a nan to a five-year-old.
Mum accepted my logic and joined in, digging out an old toy chest. The fun only grew louder.
An hour later, the doorbell rang.
A woman my age stood on the doorstep.
Afternoon, she said. Just got home from work and found your note. There must be some mix-up with the flats?
It struck me as strangeshed been at work, and the name Jacob meant nothing to her.
You havent lost a grandson?
I dont have any grandchildren, she replied.
Something wasnt right.
Back in the living room, chaos reignedMum was stacking blocks into a toy lorry, my husband rigged up a rope, and Jacob, the self-appointed foreman, barked orders.
I knelt beside him. Jacob, where exactly did you come to visit your nan?
Manchester.
Do you know your home address?
He rattled off the street, number, and flat.
And your nans address?
The moment he said the street name, it clicked.
In his games, hed wandered from one courtyard to another. When the other kids left, he thought he should go home too. The buildings looked identical. Instead of his nans, hed ended up in ours.
Hed knocked, panicked when no one answered, and burst into tears.
I handed him a toy car as a gift, scooped him up, and we set off to find his nanwho mustve been frantic.
In the next courtyard, we heard a voice calling, Jacob! Jacob!
We ran toward it and found a woman my age, her face tight with worry.
Is this your grandson?
Yes!
She hugged us in relief, though her laughter was shakyclearly still rattled.
To Jacob, it was all a grand adventure. He had a new car, after all.
As she thanked us profusely, we made a quick exit before she dissolved into tears.
We were halfway out when we heard:
Jacob! Time for lunchyou must be starving!
Already ate! he called back, zooming his car across the pavement.
Hes had lunch, I confirmed, turning back. Starter, main, and tea.
Blimey! she said. He never eats! We can barely get him to touch soup.
I smirked, remembering his feast at ours. Jacob waved his new car and shouted, See you tomorrow! Ill be back!
