“Get in!” she said.
“No,” replied the boy, “I’m not supposed to accept lifts from strangers.”
“But it’s raining,” the woman in the car said. “You’ll catch your death.”
The boy looked at the rain bouncing from the ground. His feet were already wet inside his shoes, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to get into cars with strangers. He peered up at the woman. It was dry in the car and he could feel warm air coming from the door she had swung open. She was a very pretty lady, and she was smiling.
“If you were my son,” she said, “I wouldn’t expect you to walk home in weather like this.” She glanced through the windscreen and down the road that was quickly resembling a river. Little creases formed on her forehead.
Cold and wet, the boy shivered. It was a long way home. He wasn’t supposed to accept lifts from strangers, but he got into the car, anyway. The lady leaned across and helped him to shut the door. She smelled of flowers.
***
“Get out!” she told him.
“No,” said the boy. “I don’t know where I am. I’m scared and want my mummy.”
“But there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she assured him. “It’s warm inside, and, if you stay out here, you’ll freeze.”
A cold draft rushed in through the open door. The boy’s clothes were wet against his skin. The house did indeed look warm. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, and, through the window, he could see the orange glow of a fire.
“If you were my son,” she said. “I would take better care of you.”
She had a kind voice, and the boy could hear something big moving about in the woods. He was scared and needed his mummy, but he got out of the car, anyway. The lady closed the door behind him, reached down, and took hold of his hand. She had very soft skin that smelled of flowers.
“Come in,” she said. “Sit down and make yourself at home.”
“Okay,” said the boy, “but can I call my mummy?”
“Not now. Later. Your clothes are drenched. Take these and put them on, or you’ll likely catch your death.”
The boy took the clothes and looked at them, wondering who they belonged to. He could hear someone moving about upstairs and was scared. He wished he’d listened to his mummy.
***
“Get off!” he screamed. “No! Please leave me alone. I want my mummy.”
“She’s not here. It’s too late,” they said, and took him in their arms. He was a very pretty boy, and they buried him among the flowers.
