Your Stubborn Heart

by egnop_seal

Summary:

No woman named Marigold Morris was ever supposed to step foot in Wool's Orphanage, and yet, in some world, she did.
Tom Riddle was always meant to become Voldemort. Myrtle Warren was always meant to die in that bathroom at the age of fourteen. But will they?

Chapter 1

It started out as just another grey day at Wool's. It was pouring outside, so Tom couldn't even go wandering around the city. He hated rain. Instead, he hid in his room, as he was wont to do on days like this. The other children would know better than to enter. Still, he couldn't tune out their grating voices. Both the crying and the laughter equally got on his nerves. He tried to read the few worn books he'd nicked from the modest library in the orphanage, but couldn't focus. He knew them front to back anyway, as they were his favourites. And all the others in the library – he'd read them too. Instead, he lifted them into the air without touching them. He made them do saltos all at once and then in different directions at the same time. The more times he did it, the easier it got. He thought about how those damned kids would look up there, if it was them instead of the books, and smiled.

A little while later there was a knock on the door. He knew that sharp, impatient tone well – it was Mrs Cole. Tom sighed and opened the door.

Mrs Cole was there, yes, but Tom barely registered her, too taken aback by the younger woman next to her. With a flowy dress of sky blue and waist-length blond hair, she looked like a fairy. And she was smiling at him.

Mrs Cole, Tom realised, was in the middle of reprimanding him. Nothing unusual. He needed to greet Ms Morris, she was saying. So he did. Mrs Cole told him to sit, as Ms Morris wanted to speak to him. He sat back down on his bed while Ms Morris took his chair, offered by Mrs Cole, who then, thankfully, left the room.

"It's so nice to meet you, Tom," Ms Morris said, setting her rather heavy backpack on the floor, while her eyes never left his, and her smile spread even wider, creating dimples in her cheeks. "I'm Marigold Morris, but you can call me Maggie."

Tom always had a feeling, when talking to someone, whether they were being genuine or not. And Maggie seemed so genuinely happy, but he just couldn't figure out why. He answered nothing. She already knew his name anyway.

Maggie leaned in. "Would you like to come live with me?" She asked slowly.

Tom thought it might be a joke. He hadn't been asked that question in years. Everyone always wanted the little kids. He'd been little once too, and everyone said he was a good-looking boy, so someone probably would've taken him if he'd just smiled more. Or at all. Tom never used to smile back then, as he hadn't learned to pretend yet.

He didn't smile now, either. "Why do you want me?" he asked instead.

"Well, Tom, you don't have any family. Neither do I. I think we both could use some company."

She never explained why she'd chosen him out of all the kids. But she looked like, for whatever reason, she meant it. And Tom didn't want to push too much. She might change her mind. He might ruin his only chance to get out of here.

"I'd like that."

Maggie's eyes shone back at him. She was a little like the Sun, he decided. With her pink round cheeks and many little waves of fair hair. She didn't have it pinned, like women her age normally would, and she didn't have a hat either - nor gloves, nor an umbrella. She was truly strange, but perhaps she would bring him a life he could only dream of - like the fairy godmother.

"In that case, let's go, Tom. We'll tell Mrs Cole, and I'll have to sign some papers. Then we'll be able to start getting your things ready."

Could it really be happening so quickly? "And then? When I've got my things ready, we'll leave?"

"Whenever you're ready. Don't rush on my account, I'm sure you'll want to say goodbye to everyone and then-"

"No, it's fine! I'll be ready soon. I don't want to stay here any longer."

"If you're certain. Come on."

She let Tom through the door first. Mrs Cole was still just outside the door. She'd been listening to the whole thing, probably, brow furrowed in a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. But she didn't say anything, just called for Martha to get Tom a suitcase, then led Maggie away to her office.

A couple of minutes later, Martha showed up with an old, very worn brown suitcase. She hesitantly handed it to Tom, as if unsure if this was really happening to him of all people. Tom started quickly packing his things, while she stood by the door, still watching. Thankfully, she finally left a few moments later, so Tom could pull out his 'treasure' box too, without raising suspicion. He didn't want to keep Maggie waiting. He wasn't sure why she wanted a child at all, but he knew that if she ever changed her mind about him, he wouldn't be able to bear returning to Wool's. He desperately needed to keep up the best impression possible, which meant never letting her even suspect that he'd done something she'd disapprove of. And especially not to show her what he could do, the abilities that no one else he knew possessed.

Chapter 2

Another afternoon, another end of a miserable schoolday. Dragging her feet, Myrtle slowly made her way home. A small group of children, her classmates, overtook her, but Myrtle wasn’t even trying to hide her bad mood anymore, even as they turned back to look at her, followed by whispers and laughter.

Ever since she started school, she’d never been able to make a single real friend. The ones she did have in the beginning ended up abandoning her for other children instead, ones who weren’t short and fat, didn’t have to wear thick ugly glasses and weren’t ‘crybabies’. Now Myrtle spent all her time at school alone. In class, she was the only one who sat by herself, and during recess, she’d keep away from the other children and play with some sticks and stones on the ground. Sometimes, she’d fantasise about a new girl coming to her class, a girl who wasn’t like the others. Someone kind, who would see through Myrtle’s exterior and then, finally, she’d have a friend and could be happy. But, no matter how much she'd wished, it hadn’t come true.

Home. Myrtle sighed and pushed the door open slowly. She knew she ought not to make noise lest she wake her brother and sister. She walked past the kitchen, greeting her mum, who was intensely scrubbing something in the sink. ‘Hello, dear,’ she replied, without turning around. Ever since Dorte was born, and then Addy, Mum had been constantly busy. Myrtle wasn’t chuffed about it, but at least Mum probably wasn’t going to notice her sneaking into her old bedroom and tell her off about it.

Myrtle gently placed her backpack on the floor and sat on her former bed, taking care not to touch the new sheets that had been folded neatly and placed on the other end. The new tenant should be arriving later today. Myrtle had been moved to her parents’ bedroom, where she’d be sleeping in her old, smaller bed. She did still fit, since she was so short, but with her parents’ double bed, and her siblings’ cribs, the room had become very cramped. Not to mention the fact that you always had to be quiet when Dorte and Addy were napping, while the two had no intention of being quiet when everyone else was trying to sleep. Myrtle hated it, but money was short, so Mum and Dad had been set on taking in a tenant for a while now.

Living with a stranger was certainly going to be odd. All Myrtle had been told was that it was going to be a young lady. She was going to be eating meals with them in the kitchen and using their bathroom, and Myrtle would have to be very polite around her.

*

A long, dark gray raincoat, windswept black hair and a pair of black lace-up boots made her even taller than she already was. She stood pin-straight in the doorway, holding a large suitcase in one hand, while Myrtle watched her talk to Mum and Dad out of the window. If she really strained her ears, she might’ve been able to hear what they were saying, if it wasn’t for Dorte constantly pulling on her skirt in hopes that Myrtle would play with her.

At last, Myrtle gave in and half-heartedly grabbed her old (now Dorte’s) Raggedy Ann, who’d certainly seen better times. Their attempt at a game didn’t last long, however, as Mum came in to take them to dinner. In the hallway, they all hat to greet the lady, Ms Bowman, which only Myrtle managed to do, as the other two couldn’t really talk yet. At this, Ms Bowman smiled.

“Myrtle, Dorothy and Addy. It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, but she was mainly looking at Myrtle, “You can all just call me Zavia,” she added, turning to Mum.

Zavia, as odd as she was (Myrtle had never met anybody with that name before), seemed a lot less intimidating now that she was smiling. She’d taken off her raincoat to reveal a simple brown skirt and suit jacket and fixed her hair up at least somewhat with a couple of bobby pins. Still, Myrtle could tell that she wasn’t exactly what her parents had been expecting. She decided she liked Zavia, however. If someone had to come and live in her room, at least it should be someone interesting.

“So,” Dad started, as they sat down and began eating, “What brings you to London, Zavia? Are you working?”

“No, at least not yet. I actually came here looking for my younger cousin. All I know is that he’s in an orphanage somewhere in England, so it might take a while until I find him. You see, his parents died when he was a baby and my family didn’t have enough money to take him in. I’m not sure where he ended up, and my mother doesn’t know either, but ever since I received an inheritance from my stepfather, I’ve been wanting to find him and see if I can help him somehow.”

Mum and Dad exchanged a look, which meant they wanted to say something but didn’t want the children (or Zavia) to hear.

“You should probably go to the city hall for that,” Dad said, “Though if he’s elsewhere in England, I’m not sure they’d have records of that. It certainly seems like you have quite the task ahead of you. If there’s any way we can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. You’re right, I’ll try the city hall. I wouldn’t want to bother you with my troubles though, you probably have enough on your plate as it is.”

“These two can be a handful.” Mum laughed, spoonfeeding Addy while wiping mashed potatoes from Dorty’s face. “Myrtle is a great help, though,” she lied.

They both knew that Myrtle always dragged her feet whenever Mum asked her to do anything. Zavia didn’t know that though, so she smiled at Myrtle, who figured she should probably start acting more mature so as not to ruin the good first impression. After all, Zavia seemed not to care about her weight, or her thick glasses, and maybe if Myrtle showed Zavia how mature she could be, perhaps even found some way to help her find her cousin, she and Zavia could become something like friends. So, for the remainder of dinner, Myrtle tried to pay her fullest attention to the conversation between Zavia and her parents, even as they moved on to topics like money and other things Myrtle didn’t much understand. Every time Zavia would look in her direction, Myrtle would attempt to catch her eye. Far too soon, however, dinner was over. Zavia offered Mum to help with the dishes, but Mum refused, saying that Myrtle would help her, while Dad could take Zavia to her room where she should relax after the long trip.

As soon as Dad and Zavia left, Myrtle started asking Mum questions. She wanted to find out everything, like where Zavia was from and how old she was.

“All I know is that she grew up in Wales, dear. She hasn’t been very forthcoming, maybe she doesn’t want people to know everything about her. Don’t go pestering her now, okay? Even though she's living with us now, she’s going to be  busy with her own life, so don’t bother her.”

“Yes, Mum.”

She wasn’t going to pester, Myrtle thought, impatiently rubbing a plate with a towel. She just wanted to ask a few questions, what was wrong with that? She tried to finish drying the dishes as quickly as she could, but Mum made her redo some of them, as they were still wet.

Finally, when Mum was satisfied, Myrtle hurried out of the kitchen, but not to the bedroom - to the door of her old room. She wasn’t going to knock. Instead, she walked up to it very quietly and pressed her ear to the wood. She could hear Zavia walking around inside, then sitting down on the bed. For a while it was quiet, save for a faint buzzing sound. Probably a fly. Myrtle was about to walk away, when-

Zavia inhaled loudly. Was she scared of insects?

“ Avada Kedavra ,” Zavia’s voice whispered, followed by a relieved exhale. „See, Zavia? Easy,“ she whispered to herself again.

Myrtle stood frozen. What had she just said? Had that been another language? It was now silent again, not even the fly was buzzing anymore. After a few more seconds of quiet, Myrtle moved away and tiptoed to the bedroom. That had been weird. She’d probably try eavesdropping again tomorrow, Myrtle decided.

Chapter 3

The door opened. Maggie and Mrs Cole were back.

“Have you got your things ready?” Mrs Cole asked.

“Yes.”

Maggie frowned at the suitcase on Tom’s bed. “Is that all?”

Tom glared at the floor. He was an orphan, what had she been expecting?

“Yes, that is all,” Mrs Cole answered for him, “Well, Tom, it’s time to say goodbye. Be good now, you hear me?”

‘Yes, Mrs Cole,” Tom answered mechanically. How two-faced of her to be speaking to him this way now, pretending that all the disdain and mistrust she truly felt for him didn’t exist.

Tom looked up to see Maggie picking up his suitcase from the bed. Mrs Cole was about to say something again, but Tom cut in.

“I can carry it myself, thanks.” He held his hand out for the suitcase. Mrs Cole sniffed disapprovingly at his shortness, but said nothing. As far as Tom was concerned, he was being polite.

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked. She didn’t seem to have a problem with his frazing.

“Yes. It’s not heavy.”

She handed over the suitcase and turned to Mrs Cole, who was still eyeing them suspiciously. Probably wondering how long this was going to last. No matter. Tom would prove her wrong.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Maggie said, “I’ll take good care of him.”

“I have no doubt that you will, Ms Morris. But don’t forget, like I said, Tom needs a firmer hand than most children. Hopefully he will appreciate the chance you’re giving him and not cause you any trouble,” she said the last part looking straight at Tom.

As Tom was stood behind Maggie, he held Mrs Cole’s gaze with unconcealed hatred. What had she told Maggie while they were in her office? Probably tried to talk her out of choosing him, because he was ‘such a menace’. Anxiety coiled in Tom’s stomach. What if Maggie changed her mind?

Maggie, however, looked perfectly serene. She didn’t even answer Mrs Cole, who took it as her cue to lead Maggie and Tom towards the front door. As they walked through the hallway and down the stairs, other children watched them from their doorways. Some stared at Tom in disbelief and poorly concealed jealousy. Others scrutinised Maggie’s bright dress and long hair, turning to whisper in eachother’s ears. Tom simply smirked at them, then turned around, ready to never lay eyes on any of them again.

Down the grey street, Maggie said they were heading to the train station. She was walking at a leisurely pace, looking around with a smile on her face. Tom wasn’t sure what she was seeing in this shabby part of London that made her so happy. 

“Maggie?” There was something he wanted to know. “Where do you live?”

“Oh, I’ve actually recently sold my house,” she said brightly. “So until I find a new one, I’m staying in Hiltfron.

Tom had never been to Hiltfron, he wasn’t even sure where it was. 

“You seemed pretty excited to leave,” Maggie noted.

“I am. I don’t like the orphanage. Nobody does.”

“It looked like they don’t have much money.”

They didn’t. Still, that wasn’t Tom’s biggest gripe with the orphanage.

It took them a good while to get to the train station, maybe half an hour. At first Maggie kept asking him all sorts of pointless questions, like what he liked to do and what his favourite subject at school was. Tom answered them all dutifully, but said nothing more. Thankfully, she eventually seemed to get the hint and stopped speaking.

They arrived at the station and Maggie asked when the next train to Hiltfron was at the counter. It happened to be in only thirty minutes. She bought two tickets. 

The wait at the train station and the ride itself, which took a little more than an hour, invited more questions from Maggie.

“How long have you been living at the orphanage, Tom?” she asked softly, with that look on her face that some people in the streets would get when they saw them in their orphanage uniforms. It meant she pitied him.

“My whole life,” Tom told her in a bored voice.

“And your parents? Do you know anything about them?”

“I know my father’s name was also Tom Riddle. He might still be alive. My mother said her name was Merope Riddle, so they must’ve been married, at least that’s what I’ve heard. She died giving birth to me. And my middle name is Marvolo - after my grandfather. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to grow up with your family, Tom. It doesn’t seem like there was anyone at the orphanage that you were close to, was there?”

“No.”

Tom had never even met a person he wanted to be close to. None of them understood him. He doubted that Maggie would, either. All he wanted was to be an adult, so he wouldn’t have to listen to anyone anymore. That and some money, so he wouldn’t have to live on the streets. Oh, how he would’ve loved to have a big house, and a car like the ones rich people in London drove.

“I want you to know that it’s not going to be like it was in the orphanage anymore. Every child needs to have someone who cares for him. I want to give you a good life, Tom.” Maggie said earnestly.

As long as she bought him nicer things and didn’t watch his every step like Mrs Cole did, he’d be much happier than in the orphanage for sure. And when he grew up, he’d be able to go and do whatever he pleased.

By the time they arrived in Hiltfron, it was already past lunch. Tom was a little hungry, but didn’t say anything.

“We're going to eat soon,” Maggie assured him, as they were walking out of the train station.

They continued down the main street for a few minutes, then stopped in front of a large white building. Hiltfron Hotel, said the golden letters above the front door. Maggie pushed it open.

Was she staying here? Because she hadn’t bought a new house yet? Maggie headed straight for the reception desk and asked for a room for two. So she hadn’t been staying here before, then. She also inquired about lunch. The receptionist said they had a room and that lunch would be brought up shortly.

After that, Tom and Maggie had to take an elevator, which was somewhat exciting, as Tom had never used one before. Still, staying at a hotel was not what he’d been expecting. When they entered the room, and Maggie put her backpack down on the floor, Tom realised that she didn’t have much more with her than he did. He wondered where her other things were, since she’d already sold her house but hadn’t bought a new one. She had to have some money though, the hotel room was certainly nicer than any that Tom had ever set foot in before. He took off his shoes and laid on the bed, soft like a cloud. Yes, Tom decided, his life was definitely going to be way, way different now.

Chapter 4

The first morning with Zavia passed uneventfully. Everyone ate breakfast together, and then it was off to work for Dad and to school for Myrtle. Zavia, too, was getting ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” Myrtle asked, watching Zavia lace up her black boots in the hall.

“I’m going to the City Hall,” Zavia explained, “To start looking for my cousin”.

Zavia left before Myrtle did. She didn’t even bring a handbag with her, or anything. Mum always carried at least a small handbag whenever she went anywhere.

…

It was a terrible day. They played a game in PE where they had to pass a ball to each other in different ways. At first, they handed it over their heads with both hands, which wasn’t that difficult. Then, they had to pass it between their legs. Then, to the side with only one arm. They had to do it as quickly as possible, too. That’s where Myrtle messed up. Everyone was yelling to hurry up, and she dropped the ball. As if that wasn’t enough, she accidentally kicked it and had to run to fetch it. By the time she got back, their team had already lost.

Losing or winning in a stupid sports game made no difference to Myrtle. But all of her teammates were upset, and they kept talking about how she’d ruined everything on the way to the changing rooms. They didn’t even care if she could hear them. Or maybe they wanted her to. Myrtle really hated school in moments like these. She hated that she had to be around them, to go into the changing room with everybody, and then to the next class. She considered skipping, only to get away from everyone for a little bit. But she knew she’d get in trouble if she did that.

When lessons were finally over, Myrtle was relieved. She gathered her things as fast as possible and hurried outside. But on her way down the stairs, she tripped over Luize’s leg and fell. Luize and her friends laughed. She’d tripped her up on purpose, Myrtle was sure of that. She got up and ran as fast as she could, but even now she couldn’t be alone. All the kids turned to look at her and whispered to each other on the way home. They all saw her crying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

It wasn’t until Myrtle reached her street that she finally got away from them. Nobody else from her school lived here. Through her tears, she must not have been looking where she was going, because she bumped into somebody.

“Oh, Myrtle. I’m sorry!”

She looked up to see a familiar face. Zavia.

“What’s wrong?” Zavia had seen her tear-stricken face and seemed concerned.

Myrtle said nothing.

“What’s the matter, Myrtle? Are you hurt?”

“No. I just tripped. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Myrtle groaned. “I hate school!” she announced.

“Why?”

“We played this stupid game in PE today. And we lost because of me! What’s the point, anyway - passing a ball to each other? I don’t get it!”

“Well, why’d you say it was because of you?”

“I dropped the ball, and we had to get it to the last person, but the other team did it way faster.”

“I see. Well, there’s no reason to get upset about that. Maybe next time you’ll win.”

“I don’t even care! But everyone was blaming me because we lost! That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t. Children can be right nasty sometimes, can’t they?” Zavia asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Myrtle,” Zavia said as they entered the front yard together, “Wait here. I got something for you.”

“Really? What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

They sat down on the wooden bench Dad had made in front of the house. Zavia pulled a package out of her pocket. It was bigger than her hand, and Myrtle wondered how she hadn’t noticed it in Zavia’s raincoat. She opened it, and Myrtle saw a bunch of candy, big bonbons each in shiny blue wrapping.

“Go on,” Zavia said, “They’re all yours.”

“All of them?” Myrtle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It wasn’t often her parents bought sweets without an occasion, and when they did, she’d have to share with Dorte.

“Of course,” Zavia said, “Here, take them.”

She put the open package into Myrtle’s hands. Myrtle popped one bonbon into her mouth and pocketed the rest. They sat quietly for a bit while she savoured the rich, sweet taste on her tongue.

“Hey, Myrtle?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me, what are you good at?”

Myrtle hesitated. “Not much, really… Well, I suppose I’m decent at reading and writing.”

“That’s not nothing at all then! You should be proud of what you’re good at, you know.”

Myrtle shrugged. “Nobody cares that I’m good at reading and writing anyway. Well, the other kids don’t.”

“Say, what do you think will be more important when you’re all grown up, reading and writing or playing games?”

“Reading and writing?”

“Of course. If you know how to read and write, you can get a decent job. And don’t worry about what the other kids say. Just hold your head high and know your worth, Myrtle.”

Myrtle thought about that. Zavia always held her head high, and she probably never cared if people thought she was strange. She wanted to be like that, too. It seemed difficult, though, when you were a little odd-looking girl and not a tall, beautiful woman like Zavia.

Chapter 5

“Are you hungry?” Maggie asked.

“Yes.” They’d left before lunch, but the trip had taken more than two hours, so it was already afternoon.

“Me too. Let’s go down and eat, then,” she replied cheerily.

They took the elevator again, back to the ground floor of the hotel. To the right of the front desk there was a door labeled Restaurant . They entered and sat down at one of the tables, covered in expensive looking red tablecloths. Moments later, a waiter came up, handing them two menus. 

Maggie told Tom to choose whatever he wanted. There were so many options that he didn’t know what to choose. But when the waiter came back, he had to make a decision, so he picked soup and fish cakes with salad. The waiter asked if they wanted dessert and Tom decided to go for some fruit tart. He’d never had that before. Then, they had to wait for the food to be prepared and brought to them. By the time they got to eat, it was already almost three o’clock, so Tom was famished. The food was the best he’d ever had and the portion was much bigger than what he was used to. When he was finished, he felt so full that he didn’t really want to move anymore. 

As it turned out, they didn’t even have to pay for the food, because they were already paying to stay at the hotel. They went back to their room and Tom collapsed on the bed again. Maggie moved about quietly, unpacking her things. Pretty quickly, Tom drifted to sleep.

*

When Tom woke up, Maggie wasn’t there. He checked the bathroom attached to their room. Maybe she’d gone down to the lobby for something? He tried to open the door, but it was locked.

Tom started to feel uneasy. Why would she leave without saying anything? Maybe he’d done something wrong? Maybe he hadn’t talked to her enough, and she decided she didn’t want a kid like him after all? Maybe she’d never come back. The hotel staff would eventually find him here, all alone, and then he’d be returned back to the orphanage. Panic started to set in. Tom couldn't have that. Anything but the orphanage. 

Tom looked around. He needed to come up with a plan. Then, he noticed Maggie’s backpack on the floor. She wouldn’t have left it here if she’d gone for good, would she? That seemed like the logical conclusion. She would come back. Even so, Tom wasn’t sure. Should he sit here and wait? 

He looked out the window. They were on the third floor. It was his only route of escape. And if Maggie could just leave when she wanted to, why couldn’t he? Only, it wouldn’t be easy. He’d have to be careful. Tom opened the window and stuck his head out to take a better look. He was lucky - there was a drainpipe next to the window. He could climb it all the way down to the ground. Also, this window faced the backyard, and no one was out there, so no one would see. Only thing he’d have to worry about would be falling down. But Tom knew that his powers would help him make it down safely. He’d already done things like this. Whenever he was in a dangerous situation, they’d alway come in clutch. 

So, Tom made his decision. He’d leave, go explore the town, and eventually return to  see if Maggie was back yet. But what would he say when she asked how he got out? He’d tell her an employee let him out, he decided. That would certainly get him in less trouble than climbing out from a third floor window.

Tom put on his shoes and climbed on the table in front of the window. Reaching the drainpipe was easy. He held it tight with his hands, feet planted firmly against the wall. Still, his knees were shaking, and his palms felt sweaty all of a sudden. Very slowly, he started moving down. This was taking a lot more effort than he’d anticipated, but there was no going back now. He managed to make it down one floor, but then his left foot slipped. Tom tried to hold on, but he lost his grip and started to fall. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even have time to react. Then, suddenly his feet hit something solid. Tom grabbed the drainpipe again and looked down, but there was nothing there. He was still in the air. Just like when he made his books float, he was now floating himself. But he still felt shaky, like he was holding his breath. He didn’t dare let go of the drainpipe and carefully inched his way down to the ground.

Only when his feet were on the ground was he able to breathe again. He looked around, but luckily the backyard was still deserted. Tom walked around the hotel and emerged into the street by the front entrance. Just as he was thinking of where he should go next, he saw a familiar blue dress. Maggie was walking down the street. Tom instinctively moved back, but not quick enough.

“Tom?” She had seen him.

Tom stepped forward. “I was looking for you,” he said.

“Oh. But how did you get here? I thought I locked the door?”

“Yes. But I knocked on it and called the staff. They let me out. So I went to the backyard to look for you.”

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, Tom. I only wanted to step out for a little bit, to take a look around. I saw some shops, we’re going to go and buy you some clothes later.”

Tom nodded. She didn’t seem mad.

“Were you scared?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Tom replied with a frown, as if the idea was ridiculous.

“If you want to go to the back yard, that’s fine, just don’t go out into the street alone, okay? Let’s go back to our room now.”

Tom followed her, rolling his eyes. He’d wandered the streets of London alone countless times. He could take care of himself.

Chapter 6

Myrtle sat at the kitchen table, scratching her head. She twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger and pulled, then twisted again in the other direction. The notebook page in front of her was still blank. If only she knew how to answer that math problem their teacher had assigned, she could finally finish and go play. Unfortunately, after staring at the page for what felt like an hour, she had not the faintest clue how to solve it.

There was nothing else to it, Myrtle thought with a deep sigh. She’d have to ask Mum for help. Myrtle knew she'd be busy, as always, but there was no other option. So, off she went to see what Mum was doing. Judging from the voices coming from the bathroom, Mum must've been inside with Dorte. Myrtle had heard Mum telling her off earlier for coming into the house all dirty.

Myrtle pushed open the door and saw Mum kneeling in front of the tub, where Dorte stood, naked and covered in mud from the garden. She was old enough now to be allowed there by herself, Mum and Dad had taught her never to go outside the fence. Keeping clean, however, was not something you could really expect from her yet.

“Gaah!” Dorte announced, pointing at Myrtle.

Mum turned around to look. “What is it, dear?” she asked Myrtle.

“I need help with my homework.”

“You can see that I’m busy, can’t you? You’ll have to wait.” Mum turned back at Dorte, pouring more water on her back. 

Myrtle closed the door. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. If Mum couldn’t help her now, then she'd go and play in the garden herself. Her parents always wanted Myrtle to finish the homework first, but right now, that wasn't possible, so she didn’t think she needed to follow that particular rule today.

In the backyard, behind the house, the lawn was covered with tiny purple and white daisies. Myrtle was squatting there now, set out to pick as many of them as she could hold. Once she gathered enough, she’d arrange the blossoms into little pictures on the ground. Ever since she was small, she'd always make them whenever she was bored. Not at school, though. There were some flowers there too, by the playground, but the other children would only walk all over the pictures and ruin them before you knew it.

Half an hour later, Myrtle stood back observing her work. Three flower pictures lay before her: one square, one triangle, and one circle-shaped, all intricate patterns of purple and white.

It was at that moment that she heard the gate open and close. Someone was walking up to the front door, and she knew it was still too early for Dad to come home from work, which could only mean one thing.

“Zavia!” Myrtle ran into the front yard, her pigtails swinging behind her in all the excitement.

“Hello, Myrtle,” Zavia smiled.

“How’s it going?” Myrtle asked. “Have you found your cousin yet?”

At this, Zavia’s eyebrows drew together, forming a wrinkle in the middle. “No, unfortunately not. It might take a lot longer. But eventually I will find him.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Hey, can you help me with something?”

“Sure.” Zavia’s smile was back. “What is it?”

“I don’t understand my math homework. I’d ask Mum, but she’s busy with Dorte…”

“Okay, I’ll take a look at it.”

“Thanks!” Myrtle jumped up two stairs at a time after Zavia, grinning from ear to ear.

*

“Alright, I’m finished!” Myrtle pushed her notebook across the table towards Zavia.

Zavia glanced over it and nodded, smiling. “Yes, that’s correct. Good job.”

Quickly, Myrtle gathered her books and stuffed them into her backpack.

“Where’d you go today?” she asked hastily, not wanting Zavia to go away and shut herself in her own room.

“Oh, I visited an orphanage. I’ve been going to different ones, to see if maybe my cousin will be at one of them.”

Myrtle nodded knowingly as she played with a strand of her hair. Her pigtails were all dishevelled and loose now, after a whole day of school and then playing outside.

“Hey, Zavia?" she piped up. "Do you ever do anything with your hair? Like braids and things?”

“Not very often, no. I used to, when I was your age, but now I prefer to wear it like this.”

“Your hair is very pretty,” Myrtle said softly. Much prettier than mine, she added in her head.

Zavia gave her a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you know how to do french braids?”

“I do.”

“Really? Can you teach me sometime? I’ve tried, but I couldn’t get it right at all!”

“Of course. It’s a bit tricky to do them on yourself. We could try right now if you wanted to.”

“Right now? Alright! Wait, I’ll go get my comb!”

Myrtle ran to the bathroom, which was fortunately no longer occupied, as Mum was in the bedroom with the little ones. She was so lucky, she couldn’t believe that Zavia actually wanted to do her hair now. Hastily, she grabbed the comb and ran back.

“Here,” she said, pulling out a chair, "I can sit in front of the sink, and you sit behind me."

Zavia just nodded, took the comb and pulled up her chair. They sat in front of the sink, above which there was a small mirror hanging on the wall. Every morning, Mum would do Myrtle’s hair here.

As Zavia did Myrtle’s hair, they talked. Myrtle told her she’d been trying to keep her head up at school, not to care what the others thought of her. It was only sort of working.

She told Zavia she wished to have a real friend. Zavia said that someday she’d meet someone who was like her, who understood. And then they’d be friends.

Zavia also told her, halfway through the first braid, to close her eyes. She wanted Myrtle to see the braids only when they were done. Myrtle did. She liked the feeling of Zavia brushing her hair and then braiding it. Her hands were gentle, her movements deliberate but not rushed, like Mum’s. Mum always hurried when she did her hair, and sometimes she’d pull so hard that it hurt. Zavia didn’t do that.

Myrtle felt Zavia let go, it seemed like she was finished.

“Wait, don’t open your eyes yet.”

Myrtle waited, but nothing seemed to be happening. Just a slight brush of wind on her head, probably from the door in the hall.

“Okay. Now you can look.”

Myrtle opened her eyes and saw herself in the mirror. She turned, trying to peer over her shoulder at the back of her head. She turned again, to the other side, braids swinging behind her. She still looked like her pudgy, square-faced self, but her hair? It was beautiful. The braids were perfect, not a single loose hair sticking out. Myrtle grinned.

“What d’you think?” Zavia asked, observing from afar.

“They’re wonderful,” she whispered, “Thank you so much.”

Zavia nodded. “No problem. Maybe next time, I’ll try and teach you how to do it.”

“You will?”

“Of course.”

Myrtle smiled to herself in the mirror again. Zavia might not be a kid her age, she might not be there when Myrtle was at school, but somehow, it felt like they were friends. Like she finally had a real friend.