Two - The Mystery of the Ladybug

After two months winter arrived to us with nothing to offer but cold feet and pink noses. In the nineteen-eighties the city was filled with poverty, I couldn't help but feel terrible for the pupils that are in need of a roof above their heads. Sighing with a cold breathe turning I see a second of honey hair, it was the same lady that had taught me how to smoke.

My legs had moved on their own towards her direction, she was wearing a blue clip on her hair and those ocean blue eyes turned to my direction. That cold stare gave me shivers down my spine, it was more powerful than anything I have ever looked at. "Oh if it isn't Mister Belgium! what brings you here?", I was not surprised... I couldn't answer her.

"I-I"

She noticed my hesitation and gave off a little chuckle. Her soft voice mumbled something as she placed something on my head, it was my hat that she had taken two months ago. "You don't have to say anything Mister Belgium, I understand you". She walked with me holding her floral umbrella with a tight grip from her gloves. "My grandfather Will Murray talks a lot about my mother and how he missed her, but that is... only in his sleep"

"In his sleep, that's a very vulnerable time for a person.", the lady looked at me and I nodded looking down. "She died from tuberculosis when I was fourteen years of age, it really scarred him and I understand his pain yet I wish he could be more grateful that I'm there beside him", she walked alongside me and kept a protective eye on me. "Maybe he is afraid he'll loose you too", I was surprised and looked in her direction and she gave me a soft smile with her soft raspberry lips.

"If you don't mind me asking why where you in Houston Street?", she laughs pulling my nose holding it. "That's an awfully personal question Mr Belgium!", she lets go of me as I looked at her she jumped on a bus waving at me with her umbrella as it drove off. I still didn't catch her name... it upsets me.

When I got home Grandad Will was reading an eroded book that was somehow still intact with awful glue and tape, "what is that pops?". I remove my coat putting it on the coat hanger and walk to him. "It's... a book that your mother wrote when she was raising you", my eyes widened with a pain in my chest, they looked straight to the book and there was an old black and white picture of my mother holding me. "What did she want to be pops?", he smiles with teary eyes and looked at me.

"She always wanted to be the best mother for you"