We Went to Visit Mum.
We went to visit my mother. As we entered the building, we found a five-year-old boy weeping uncontrollably.
Why are you crying? I asked.
He sniffled, I came to see my nan. I went to play in the garden, and when I came back, she wouldnt answer the door.
I said, Dont worry, shes probably just popped to the shops. Shell be back soon.
But he wouldnt stop crying, poor thing.
Whats your name?
O-Oliver
And which flat is yours?
N-number eighteen
The people in flat eighteen were new, and I hadnt met them yet. I rang the bell, but no one answered. I couldnt leave the boy there on the stairs.
Come on, Oliver, youll be my guest. Ill leave a note for your nan.
We went up to our flat. While my husband kept him company, I scribbled a note: *Oliver is in flat 28.* I went back down and stuck it on the door.
When I returned, Oliver was already playing toy cars with my son. Everything was fine.
I wiped his face and asked, Fancy some vegetable soup?
Yes, please.
He finished a bowl in no time.
And for seconds, theres meatballs. Want some?
Yes, please.
He had quite the appetitewolfed down two meatballs at once.
Fancy jam or juice?
Tea.
I was surprisedat five, Id only have tea if there was no jam.
We sat drinking tea with biscuit cake while Oliver and my husband debated important matters like car brands and their top speeds.
Mum got home. I explained we had a little guest.
Thats odd, she said. A woman your age lives in flat eighteen.
I didnt see the problem. A forty-year-old could easily be a nan to a five-year-old.
Mum accepted my logic and joined in entertaining him. She brought out the toy box, which made things even livelier.
About an hour later, the doorbell rang.
I answered. A woman my age stood there.
Afternoon, she said. Just got back from work and found this note. Must be a mix-up with the flats?
It struck me as oddher coming from work, and the name Oliver meaning nothing to her.
Havent you lost a grandson? I asked.
Havent got any grandchildren yet, she replied.
Something wasnt right.
I went back to the living room. Everyone was busyMum stacking blocks into a toy lorry, my husband tying a string to it, while Oliver, the foreman, barked orders.
Oliver, I said, sitting beside him, where exactly did you come from to visit your nan?
Manchester.
Do you know your home address?
He recited itstreet, number, flat.
And your nans address?
He gave the street name, and suddenly it made sense.
In his games, hed wandered from one courtyard to another. When the other boys left, he thought he should go home too. The buildings looked identical. Instead of his nans, he ended up in ours.
He knocked, but no one answered, so he panicked and cried.
I gave him a toy car as a gift, scooped him up, and we went to find his nan, who mustve been frantic.
In the next courtyard, we heard shouts
Oliver! Oliver!
We ran toward the voice and saw a woman my age, clearly distraught.
Is this your grandson?
Yes!
Relieved, she hugged us.
We explained what happened, and everyone laughedthough her laughter was a bit shaky, since shed been terrified.
For Oliver, it was all a grand adventurehe had a new car, after all.
As she thanked us profusely, we slipped away before the tears started.
We were halfway back when we heard
Oliver, come for lunch, you must be starving!
Already ate, he called, pushing his car along the pavement.
Hes already eaten, I confirmed, turning back. First course, seconds, and tea.
Blimey! she said. He never has an appetitewe can barely get him to finish soup.
I raised an eyebrow, remembering how much hed eaten at ours. He waved his new car and shouted,
See you tomorrow! Ill be back!
