text: Once was Lost, Now is Found Since they had moved away from their old home, they didn’t go to London much anymore. Bella used to love visiting the big city with all it’s museums and theatres and activities. Her daughter loved to go for the shopping. They would usually make a deal that if they went shopping for a couple of hours then Bella would get an hour in a museum. She supposed she could just let her daughter go off on her own - Chelsea was 17 now but Bella didn’t quite trust the city. It might not be safe to let a teenage girl off on her own, even if it was only to roam Oxford Street. Bella knew she was over-protective but after what had had happened with Rory, she couldn’t help herself. The train was crowded but they had reserved seats in advance so they were able to sit down for the journey, although they had been forced to ask people to move out of their seats. The two women who had ignored the reserved sign gave Bella a dirty look. The younger one said that her mother had a bad knee. Bella retorted that she herself had arthritis. Well, it was true and if the older woman was disabled, why hadn’t she reserved a seat? Chelsea hunched her shoulders and slipped into the window seat, her earbuds in so that she could ignore Bella for the entire journey. Bella considered offering Chelsea’s seat to the older woman and then decided against it. She wanted to keep an eye on Chelsea. Opening up her kindle, Bella tried to get into the book she had been reading for several weeks. It had been highly recommended and well-reviewed but Bella found it boring. She would force herself to read it though as she knew it would be good for her. She couldn’t read trashy novels every day. She glanced over at Chelsea who was now resting her head against the window. She would get covered in germs. Bella would remind her to wash her hair tonight. She reached into her pocket and made sure that she had remembered her hand gel. London was so dirty. Woken by a jab in the ribs from Chelsea’s elbow, Bella heard the conductor announcing Victoria Station. She closed her kindle and put it deep into her backpack, checking that her wallet was zipped into an inside pouch of the pack. She reminded Chelsea to put her phone in her coat and not just leave it dangling out of her jeans for a pickpocket to grab. Chelsea sighed and did as she was told. Armed with their tickets to get through the exit barriers, they disembarked from the train. The crowds at the station pressed about them until they were siphoned through the gates into the shopping arcade. Chelsea wanted to go into a shop to buy a drink so they headed into WH Smith’s. While Chelsea scanned the snacks and beverages, Bella took a quick tour of the books. She noted that there was a new volume from Percy Jackson. Rory had loved those novels. Bella remembered one Christmas day when they had all curled up on the sofa and watched a film made from one of the novels. That must have been the last Christmas with Rory. Bella put down the book. There was no point in buying it. They took the underground to Bond Street and started trawling through the shops of Oxford Street, making their way towards Covent Garden. Chelsea had a job now and was able to spend her own money in the shops but Bella found herself frequently offering to pay for a second item when Chelsea couldn’t make up her mind. She knew she shouldn’t spoil Chelsea; you can’t buy love after all but it would make the journey home more pleasant if Chelsea was feeling grateful. She might even chat with Bella a bit. When the bags got too heavy, they stopped for a coffee. Bella was shocked at the exorbitant prices. How did anybody live in London? Everything was so expensive. Rory had always wanted to live in London. He had applied to a London university but Bella and her husband had discouraged him, telling him it would be more economical to study closer to home. They would tell Chelsea the same thing when she applied to university. London was fine for a visit, but you couldn’t actually live there. After they were revived with caffeine, it was Bella’s turn to indulge herself. There was an exhibition at the Hayward Gallery on the Southbank. Chelsea groaned at having to walk that far but Bella insisted it would be lovely to cross the river. It wasn’t even that far a walk but Chelsea was carrying several shopping bags. Bella offered to take a bag and Chelsea handed her a large package that had heavy shoes in it. They crossed over at Embankment and Bella paused on the bridge, letting the wind blow through her hair. She looked down at the boats and remembered taking Rory, when he was quite young on one of the London tourist cruises. “Did we ever take you on one of those boats Chelsea?” Her daughter shook her head. “I haven’t been on the London Eye either,” she accused.They had taken Rory on the Eye. He had been rambunctious and an elderly couple in their compartment had asked Bella to ‘control her son.’ Perhaps they had been frightened that the leaping and stomping of a five-year-old boy would cause the capsule to swing lose from its place and fall into the river. “We could go on the Eye if you really want to,” Bella felt she should take Chelsea if Rory had been. “But it’s very pricey. We might want to spend the money on a meal before we go home instead.” Chelsea shrugged, “Whatever.” Bella decided she didn’t want to go on the Eye. She would take Chelsea to the terrace café on the Southbank. They would both be hungry after the museum and then they could get the underground from Waterloo to Victoria with only one change. The exhibit was stunning. Bella spent ages drifting from one piece to another. Chelsea had abandoned her early on, settling on a bench in the middle of the gallery, her shopping arranged around her. Bella thought her daughter would be safe enough there, nothing untoward could happen in a gallery. Bella used to frequent art museums all the time; Rory had loved them and they had always seemed to be havens. Rory had been quite an artist himself and she thought he might have studied art at university, if he had gone. He used to sit on the floor in front of paintings he liked, forcing tourists to walk around the child parked in the middle of the National Gallery or the Tate. When he was older, he took a sketch pad so his presence had been more acceptable. Bella still has a few of those sketches. The meal was not good value for money but they needed to eat something before their journey home. Bella texted her husband giving them an estimated time of arrival. She hoped he wouldn’t mind picking them up that late but she didn’t want to get a bus with all of Chelsea’s purchases. After leaving a tip, they collected their bags, Bella tucking her wallet deep into her pack and pulled it around to rest on her chest. “That looks so stupid,” Chelsea noted. “I’m sure it does.” There was not point in arguing with a fashion conscious teenager, “but I can get to our tickets and money easier and no one can pull it off my back and steal it.” Chelsea rolled her eyes. “It’s getting dark and it’s a bit rough down here. Is your phone in your coat?” “Yes,” the tone was testy. They made their way towards Waterloo, having to go through a concrete underpass where several young people were sitting along the wall. Some were chatting, one was playing a guitar. A few just sat on the pavement, looking cold and hopeless. “Lady, can you help? You have some spare change?” Bella kept her head down, trying to pass through as quickly as possible. At the end of the tunnel, she saw a body sprawled on a sleeping bag. ‘Drugs’ she thought and as the young man was unconscious, she allowed her eyes to dart towards him. Then she froze. Chelsea bumped into her. “What?” Bella couldn’t speak. She stared at the person stretched out before her. He didn’t look that different. Thinner of course and dirty. Filthy actually. Bella noted the black dirt encrusted under the nails, the long thin fingers, one hand loosely draped over a tin of cider. Although his eyes were shut, she knew they were blue. His ash blond hair hung greasy strands, partly obscuring his face, but she knew. She dropped the shoes she was carrying for Chelsea and crouched down next to the youth. She wanted to reach out and brush the hair away but she didn’t want to startle him. “Rory,” she breathed and then did reach out, touching the hand resting on the cider tin. The man swatted at her, “Ger away,” he slurred without opening his eyes. “Rory,” she said again, this time taking the hand and holding it tightly. “Rory, it’s mum.” The eyes cracked open and attempted to focus. “It’s mum, sweetie, and Chelsea,” she motioned to her daughter who took a tentative step forward. Rory said nothing, staring at them. Bella wanted to take him in her arms and rush him home. Bathe him and wrap him in clean blankets. She wanted to feed him and buy him new clothes. She wanted to do everything for him, right now, at once. “Are you hungry sweetheart? Do you want us to get you something to eat?” Rory shook his head slowly, as if it hurt to do so. “Not hungry,” he muttered. “Can you give me some money?” Bella felt her heart sinking. “Sure. I don’t have any cash on me though. Why don’t you come with us to the station where there’s a cash point?” “Nah, I’ll lose my space.” Bella looked at where her son had camped out. There was the sleeping bag and a rucksack but it was undercover, out of the weather. She could see that it was a prime spot. “Why don’t you just come home?” Chelsea broke in. Rory looked at her as if he had never seen her before. In a way, he hadn’t. She had been 12 when he left. Now she was nearly grown. “I mean,” she went on, “this kind of sucks. You could at least come home and get some free food and stuff. Then you could leave again if you want but it would be, you know, a break.” Rory shifted his gaze to Bella who tried to smile at him. “That’s true Rory. You could just come home for a little break, if you would like to. We’d love to have you.” “What about Dad?” Bella let out the breath she had been holding. “Rory, we all love you. You will always be welcome in our home.” “Does Dad love me?” “Yes, of course. Fathers and sons argue but you still love each other. Chelsea,” she grabbed her daughter’s arm. “Mums and daughters argue. Don’t we Chelsea? But we love each other. I know Chelsea can’t wait to grow up and get away from us but she knows she can always come home, right Chelsea?” Chelsea nodded solemnly, then she crouched down next to her brother. “Come home Rory. We miss you. Mum still thinks about you everyday and cries. I need your help; she’s going to drown me.” He almost smiled, then pushed himself to a sitting position. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he pulled his rucksack into his lap and hugged it like a comfort toy. Bella reminded herself to keep breathing. Patience. She had to be patient and not push too hard. She reached out her hand to help her son to stand. “Let’s go get you a cup of coffee, then you can decide. If your place is gone and you don’t want to come home with us, I’ll get you a room for the night.” There was a long pause and then Rory placed his grubby hand in hers and they stood up together. He reached down and folded the sleeping bag under his arm, shifting the rucksack to his back. He leaned heavily on his mother, unsteady on his feet. Chelsea retrieved the package of shoes that her mother had dropped and moved to the other side of her brother. Cautiously they moved down the road towards Waterloo station, it’s bright lights gleaming in the London dusk.