An eight-year-old boy plays every day with an old man in the park, unaware of who he truly is…
My favourite place in the world isnt the rusty swings or the leaf-strewn sandpitits St. Jamess Park. Because thats where I find Mr. Edwards.
Theres my champion! he calls out whenever he spots me racing over after school.
Mr. Edwards has snow-white hair, always wears a brown felt hat, and his hands are the most wrinkled Ive ever seen. But theyre kind handshands that fold paper boats and taught me how to whistle through my fingers.
Mum, can I go to the park? I ask every afternoon.
One hour, Oliver. No more, she replies, barely glancing up from her paperwork.
Mums always working. Says shes had to keep the house running alone since Dad left. She never asks what I do at the park or who I play with.
Mr. Edwards tells the most incredible stories. Says he travelled the world when he was youngmet smugglers in Cornwall and once dined with a lord in London.
Really? You met a lord? I ask, nibbling on the biscuits he always brings.
As real as you sitting here with me, he says, winking. But the greatest treasure I ever found wasnt gold or silver.
What was it then?
Family. A beautiful wife and a son who looked just like you at that age.
His voice cracks when he says it. His blue eyes, usually so bright, turn dulllike the sky before rain.
Where are they now?
My wifes in heaven, he sighs. And my son well, families break sometimes, lad. Like a dropped plate.
But broken plates can be glued back together.
Plates, yes, he says with a sad smile. Families are trickier.
Three months into our friendship, Mr. Edwards surprises me.
Here. This is for you. He pulls a wooden box from his coat pocket. Inside is an old, heavy gold pocket watch.
This belonged to my father, and his father before him. One day, itll be yours.
Why give it to me?
Because youre special, Oliver. More than you know.
That night, I show it to Mum. Ive never seen her so pale.
Where did you get this? she snaps, snatching it from me.
Mr. Edwards gave it to memy friend from the park.
Mr. Edwards? What does he look like?
I describe himtall, white hair, blue eyes, always in a brown hat.
Mum sinks into a chair, clutching the watch like its a venomous snake.
Youre never going back to that park. Do you hear me?
Why?
Because I said so. And give me that watch.
No! Its mine! He gave it to me!
She locks it away in a drawer.
That man is dangerous. Stay away from him.
For a week, Mum escorts me everywhere. I feel like a prisoner.
Why cant I see Mr. Edwards? I plead.
Because hes a liar, she says. And liars hurt children.
But I know he isnt. Liars dont look you in the eyehe taught me that.
On Friday, I escape. I slip out during break and sprint to the park.
His bench is empty. The flower seller gives me a sad look.
Oh, love. Mr. Edwards fell ill. They took him to Kings College Hospital three days ago.
I dont let her finish. I run.
The hospital is six blocks away. I burst in, gasping. The nurse at reception directs me to Room 204.
He looks so small without his hat, swallowed by white sheets, machines beeping beside him.
Mr. Edwards!
He opens his eyes. His smile is weak.
Champion knew youd come.
Are you really sick?
A bit. He reaches for my hand. His fingers are cold.
Oliver, do you know your full name?
Oliver Thompson Carter.
And you know Carter was your dads surname?
Yeah. Mum told me.
Did you know my surname is Carter too? William Carter.
It takes a moment to sink in.
Youre my family?
Tears roll down his wrinkled cheeks.
Im your grandfather, lad. Your dad was my boy.
The world tilts. Suddenly, it all makes sensethe watch, why he said I was special, why he looked so sad talking about family.
Why didnt Mum tell me?
Granddad sighs.
After your dad died, she and I fought. Over money, the house grown-up nonsense. She was so angry, she took you away. Moved houses, changed neighbourhoodsso Id never find you.
So Dad did have family?
A father who adored him. And who adores you, even if weve only had these few months.
Is that why you gave me the watch?
It was your great-grandfathers, then mine, then your dads. Now its yours by right.
Mum bursts in, frantic.
Oliver! Ive been looking everywhere!
She freezes when she sees Granddad. They stare at each other, silent.
Eleanor, he says softly.
William, she whispers, voice breaking.
Mum, I ask, why didnt you tell me?
She sinks into a chair, covering her face.
Because I was angry. So angry.
Why?
When your dad died, your grandfather and I fought over everything. I thought he wanted to take things from menot that he wanted to know you.
I never wanted to take anything, Eleanor, Granddad says. Just to know my grandson.
I know, she sobs. And Im ashamed. These years, hes been alone, and youve grown up without family.
I havent been alone these last months, Granddad smiles. Ive had the finest grandson in the world sharing biscuits with me in the park.
You knew who I was? I ask.
From the first day. Youre the spitting image of your dad at your age. Same eyes, same cheeky grin.
Mum takes Granddads hand.
William, forgive me. Please.
Nothing to forgive, love. Just lost time we cant get back.
But we can make the most of whats left, she says.
For the first time in days, Granddads smile reaches his eyes.
Does this mean I can see him every day? I ask.
Every day you like, champion.
Granddad stayed in hospital another fortnight. Mum and I visited daily. She cleared out the guest room for him.
When he was finally discharged, shed made it up fresh.
This was always your home, William. Im sorry I made you feel otherwise.
Now, Granddad lives with us. He helps with my homework, tells more stories, and every evening, we walk to the park where we first met.
The gold watch sits on my bedside tableno longer just my treasure, but proof that some broken things *can* be mended.
And that old men who appear out of nowhere in parks? Sometimes theyre grandfathers whove been waiting for you all along.
