Six Little Lullabies

The Streets of London

The grey sky was covered in rain-filled coulds and the stinging, cold autumn wind was blowing through the streets of London, as I was carrying the last box up the narrow stone stairs of my new house.

My name is Elenore Johnson. I am 24 years old and had just recently moved to London, in 1990. It had always been my dream to live in here, and since I had finished my studies, it finally came true.
What I did not know back then; I was in for a tale, that anyone would have called me crazy for, if I ever told it.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

As I said, my story begins in 1990, when I had finally fulfilled my dream of moving to London...

When I had set down the last one of my moving boxes, I stretched, relieving my tight muscles and making my spine give a satisfying pop.
Moving was harder than it looked, but it was all worth it. I took a good look around my new home.

It was a relatively old building, but I didn't mind. As a matter of fact, I thought it was quiet charming.
The walls in my livingroom were covered in an old-timey wallpaper with fading roses on it.
The windows were tall and the old fireplace had a fancy looking frame around it.

It was all still very dusty, but I could always clean it later.
With a happy sigh I began to set up a few things for the first few days; my mattress, pillow and comforter, my desk and a chair. "That will have to do for a few days, until I have unpacked everything else."

Suddenly my stomach rumbled and I realised, that I hadn't eaten anything since this morning. I decided to eat out for tonight, since I had not had the chance to buy and groceries, yet. Grabbing my purse, my house key, my coat and my scarf, I left the house and went to look for a place to eat, nearby.

The house I bought was one in a street of many, tightly built next to one another, not far from the center of London. On my way into the city centre I passed by a few other buildings; a library, a few small clothing shops, a school, a church and an orphanage. Like the rest of the outskirts of London, they all had an old-timey look to them, which I thought to be one of London's unique trademarks.

After a few minutes of walking, I passed a clothing shop and took a quick glance at my reflection in the window.
My long, wavy reddish-brown hair was a bit frizzy from the wind. My hazel eyes narrowed, keep the cold from making them tear up and my freckled nose and cheeks tainted slightly pink from the cold. I smiled to myself for finally being here and went on with my search for a place to eat.

Not far away I found a restaurant. Its facade reminded me of a tavern in the 1800s, but I could sense a delicious smell coming from inside, so I entered.

I was greated by a middle-aged man with round but strong physic, brown hair and mustache and a friendly smile.
He wore a typical waiter apron and a white button-up shit underneath.

"Good evening, madam." He greeted in a friendly tone, and I smiled in return. "Good evening, Sir. Do you have a table for one?" I asked. The waiter looked surprised for a second, but then said: "I do, but I have to ask; how does a beautiful, young lady like you not have a lad by her side for dinner?" He seemed genuinely interested, like a nice uncle, as he walked me to a table in the corner of the room. I smiled at his compliment and answered "I just moved here today."

"Aye, what a nice thing to hear! This old town could really use a new, young spirit. I hope you will enjoy it here." He laughed, and I chuckled along. He gave me a menu and took my order.

The food was delicious and not to expensive. I made a mental note to return more often and as I paid my tab the waiter said "I hope to see you around, lassie."
"Elenore. Please, call me Elenore." I smiled. "Hehe, a pretty name for a pretty lass. Call me Scott." He chuckled.

After a few more words, we said our goodbyes, and I made my way out of the restaurant.
Suddenly, I noticed how dark it had become. The street lanterns where illuminating the street and the cobblestone sidewalks and a few kids that were playing outside made their way home, still laughing from all the fun they had, except for one.

A little boy, maybe 8 years old, was stumbling behind the group, only to stop and look after the others. He had dark brow, shaggy hair and wore a pair of equally brown overall-shorts, a white, longsleeved button-up shirt, a pair if suspended white socks and black shoes. His clothes seemed to be somewhat old-fashioned.

The little boy looked after the rest of the kids, with a sad frown on his face. They didn't even seem to notice him. "That poor little child..." I thought.
I have always had a soft spot for kids. They warm my heart and it pains me to see them upset.

Looking for any oncoming cars, I quickly crossed the street, tightly wrapping my coat around myself to keep warm.

I carefully approached the boy, who finally noticed me. "Hello, little man." I smiled slightly at him. He looked at me, seemingly disturbed, that I talked to him.
Raising my hands, to show that I ment now harm, I continued: "Please, don't be scared. I won't hurt you, I promise."

The boy seemed to relax a bit, but he did not make any attempts to speak.
"Were those other kids your friends?" I asked.
The boy avoided my eye and looked at the ground before slightly shaking his head.

I figured that the little boy was probably too shy to speak.
"I am Elenore. What is your name, sweetheart?" The boy remained silent.
Instead he hesitated for a moment, but then crouched down and started assembling a bunch of sticks and pebbles in the shape of letters.
Jack, it spelled.

"Jack, huh?" I asked and the boy nodded. "That is a nice name. Pleasure to meet you, Jack." I smiled and he returned it, in a shy manner.
I looked around, hoping to find someone looking for him, but nobody was there.

"Isn't is time to go home? It's already dark."
A bit shameful he nodded and got up.
He then waved at me, and smiled before running down the street.
I smiled as I watched Jack turn around a corner, thinking he was living close by.

"He was a sweety." I thought and made my way home, through the windy streets of London.