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the new ones came in. The antiques guy who, without asking questions, found odd jobs for him to do and paid him in hot meals and spare change so that Leo left with his stomach full and his pockets clinking. The old-timer who had fought off a group of boys who had been about to attack him in the middle of the night. His friend from school, who never told a soul where Leo was, despite a grilling from the teachers. So life was tough, but it wasn’t all bad.
    When you’re on the street, you hone your instincts. You learn to pay attention. You see how arguments erupt, how romance sparks, how betrayal wounds and love heals. You see the same people day after day, stepping from the bus to the road, stepping over the cracks in the pavement, stepping from the highs to the lows of their existence and back again. Leo had seen tears, tantrums, brawls. He’d seen a proposal under last year’s Christmas tree in the shopping center, the ring glinting under the fairy lights. He’d seen a heart attack on a pedestrian crossing, an elderly lady giving mouth-to-mouth to an elderly man. He’d seen a teenage girl go into labor outside the supermarket, clutching hold of a shopping cart for support. And he’d seen a mother lose sight of her child, screaming as she ran up and down the road until she found him, hitting the toddler over the head before clutching him tightly to her.
    Sometimes it was far more subtle, no obvious drama. Even then, if you observed carefully, you could witness life turning on a single moment. So Leo recognized it when such a moment happened to him.
    He had seen a girl smiling in the rain and he had felt himself change direction. Call it luck, or serendipity, or fate, but Leo knew that he would see this girl again and that their paths would cross and twist and entwine until they were hand in hand, journeying together. He knew this without a doubt. It was simply a matter of time.

C HAPTER E IGHT
    E mber didn’t come to the dell that next day, nor for the next few days after that.
    Poppy kept returning, though. She never meant to, but she liked the walk—her legs crossing the grassy slopes, treading through the bracken, past the russet trees, avoiding the prickle of the thistles. And she liked it in the dell. She found peace in the soft sounds of the countryside and took comfort in the warm glow of the sun as it slouched into the hills. Each time she meant to leave the gift somewhere Ember might find it and save herself another trip. But as the sun slid from sight and the light faded, Poppy’s troubles seemed to fade with it, and she didn’t leave the gift in case it got tossed by the wind or soaked by the rain. Instead, she came back again, day after day after day, finding solace there and hoping Ember might come to find some too.
    The paper bag in Poppy’s pocket that held the present had crumpled and ripped. Then, on the Saturday morning when the day was starting, Poppy carried on past the dell, into the woods. She went where her feet took her. She had no idea where shewas going or how she’d get back, but this didn’t seem to concern her. She felt strangely at home in the speckled light, dwarfed by the tall trees that swayed and rustled, bending their branches in greeting. The ground was supple under her feet, cushioning her tread. She pushed through nettles, past brambles; she climbed over tree trunks, her hands reaching to stroke leaves overhead as twigs snapped underfoot. She felt a part of life here in a way that she never had in any town or city. Squirrels stopped their climbing and looked at her with interest. Small birds flew past as if on reconnaissance, chirping the news of her arrival. Poppy felt like they were welcoming her into their home.
    She saw Ember by the stream, the water singing as it sashayed over stones.
    â€œEmber?” she called.
    Ember looked around, startled. Then she beamed. “I was hoping you’d find me.”
    â€œYou