**Visiting Mum**
Today, we went to see my mum. As we walked into the building, we found a little boy, no more than five, crying his eyes out in the hallway.
Whats wrong, love? I asked.
Between sniffles, he replied, Came to see my nan. Went to play in the garden, and when I came back, she wouldnt answer the door.
I patted his shoulder. Dont worry, shes probably just popped to the shops. Shell be back soon.
But the poor thing wouldnt stop sobbing.
Whats your name?
Ja-a-mie
Which flat do you live in?
Nu-number eighteen
The new tenants in flat eighteen hadnt been there long, and I didnt know them. I rang the bell, but no one answered. I couldnt just leave him there on the stairs.
Come on, Jamie, youll be my guest. Ill leave a note for your nan.
Back in our flat, while my husband kept him company, I scribbled a noteJamies in flat 28and stuck it on his nans door.
When I returned, Jamie was already playing cars with my son. Everything was right as rain. I wiped his tear-streaked face and asked, Fancy some vegetable soup?
Yes, please.
He polished off a bowl in no time.
And for the next course, theres meatballs. Want some?
Yes, please.
The lad had quite the appetitewolfed down two meatballs at once.
Fancy jelly or juice?
Tea.
That surprised me. At five, Id only ever drunk tea if there was no jelly left.
We sat sipping tea with biscuit cake while Jamie and my husband debated the finer points of car makes and top speeds.
Mum arrived home. I explained our little guest.
Thats odd, she said. A woman about your age lives in flat eighteen.
I shrugged. A forty-something could easily be a nan to a five-year-old.
Mum accepted that and joined in entertaining him, even digging out the toy box, which livened things up.
An hour later, the doorbell rang.
A woman my age stood there. Afternoon, she said. Just got home from work and found this note. Mustve been a mix-up with the flats?
It struck me as oddher just getting back, and the name Jamie meaning nothing to her.
Havent lost a grandson, have you? I asked.
Havent got any grandchildren yet, she said.
Something wasnt adding up.
Back in the lounge, chaos reignedMum was loading blocks into a toy lorry, my husband was tying a rope to it, and Jamie, the self-appointed foreman, barked orders.
I sat beside him. Jamie, love, where exactly did you come from to visit your nan?
Manchester.
Do you know your home address?
He rattled off the street, number, and flat.
And your nans address?
He named the street, and suddenly, it made sense.
While playing, hed wandered from one courtyard to another. When the other kids left, he thought he should too. The buildings looked identical. Instead of his nans, hed ended up in ours.
Hed knocked, panicked when no one answered, and started crying.
I gave him a toy car as a keepsake, lifted him into my arms, and we set off to find his nan, who mustve been beside herself.
In the next courtyard, we heard, Jamie! Jamie!
We hurried toward the voice and found a woman my age, clearly frantic.
Is this your grandson?
Oh, yes!
She hugged us in relief.
We explained, and everyone laughedthough her laughter was a bit shaky, still shaken from the scare.
For Jamie, it was all a grand adventurehe had a new car, after all.
As she thanked us profusely, we made our exit before she got tearful again.
We were halfway back when we heard, Jamie! Lunchtimeyou must be starving!
Already ate, he called, zooming his car along the pavement.
Hes had a full meal, I confirmed over my shoulder. First course, second course, and tea.
Blimey! she said. He never has an appetitewe can barely get him to finish soup!
I raised a brow, remembering how much hed packed away.
Jamie waved his new car and shouted, See you tomorrow! Ill be back!
