Hope cleared two of the lower shelves in the hall closet and Harry shoved the lumpy pillowcase into the farthest corner and set his new clothes reverently in pride of place at the front. Except the sweater, which Hope left on a higher shelf, still in the brown bag.

Sunday was spent in relative peace. Harry, dressed in his new button up and the darkest pair of jeans he now owned, attempting a line drawing of a puppy while Hope scanned newspapers for apartments and job offers.

Apples, biscuits and vitamins for morning tea, and Harry watched with interest as Hope turned the chicken carcass into a savory noodle soup for dinner. She didn't ask for help, didn't seem to think he ought to be stirring the pot so the vegetables didn't burn. No, she simply did it herself and moved so efficiently around the tiny kitchen that she seemed to fill the entire space at once.

Three new lists were made as the evening progressed and Hope turned the page over for the last time with a dissatisfied huff.

"Can I help?" Harry asked softly.

"Pardon?" Hope looked up blearily, focused on his face and shook her head, "no, no need to worry, I just get caught up in my head sometimes trying to calculate the best decision."

"Is that what that's for?" Harry pointed at the notebook.

Hope followed his motion and flipped back a few pages. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Is it because of me? Is that why you're worried?" Harry looked tiny as he asked it, fragile and thin as an underfed sparrow.

"I have a responsibility to take care of you now Harry, so I am allowed to worry a little about you every now and then." Hope smiled tiredly, "but I am the adult, and adult problems are not yours to worry about until you're an adult, yourself."

Harry looked mildly defiant, jutting his chin out with determination. "you said that everything that's yours is mine, everything. Didn't you mean it?"

"I- yes, I meant that everything I own, my home, my wages all of it will be used for your wellbeing not just my own."

"But you're trying to find a different job and a new home, so maybe I can help you decide, since it'll be mine too?" Harry asked, slyly innocent and opening his eyes just a little extra like the cartoons he'd seen on the telly.

Hope chuckled softly, and raised an eyebrow with amusement at his reasoning. "You've got a point there. But I think we'll leave that question for tonight, we've got to be at the diner before six and my brain is going to turn into porridge if I read one more ad just now."

Harry smiled at his victory and ran off to brush his teeth and climb into his soft pajama's, navy blue with little sheep-clouds all over them. Finished with his newly acquired bedtime routine he slid onto the couch cushions, leaving the blanket folded back and waiting expectantly for what would come next.

Hope knelt beside him, pulled the blanket straight to his chin and tucked it in around his shoulders. She ruffled his shaggy hair affectionately and whispered, "g'night Harry, sweet dreams," before disappearing down the hall.

"G'night." Harry whispered back, so softly she didn't hear him over the soft padding of her feet and the click of her bedroom door.

"This is your new protégé, is it?" Jacobs asked bluntly between puffs of a fat cigarette.

"This is Harry. Harry, I'd like you to meet my boss, Mr. Jacobs." Hope said, her voice flat and civil. Harry thought it sort of awful in its politeness.

Jacobs looked down his nose at the boy one last time and then snuffing the stub out on a brick near the back door, motioned them through. "Go on then. He can sit in the half booth, but if it gets busy, send him to the backroom. And I expect you to manage him, Hope. If he disrupts a customer, it'll come out of your pay."

"Yes of course, Mister Jacobs." Hope answered quickly, ushering Harry through the door with both hands on his shoulders.

She hung her jacket on a peg in the hall and switched her sensible running shoes for a pair of shiny black kitten heels and tied an apron around her waist before showing Harry through to the dining room.

The layout had been refurbished years ago, cracking vinyl booths filled most of the far wall, leaving a narrow space at the back end in which Jacobs had contrived an awkward half booth. There Harry stayed with his new pencils and books, content for the moment to watch the diner come to life.

Hope set down the chairs that had been stacked on the small round tables the previous night, wiping down the formica tops and setting out salt and pepper shakers. Just as the clock struck six, she unlocked the front door and flipped the sign to 'open.'

Meanwhile someone swore loudly in the kitchen and another voice answered with, "watch your language Jimmy, there's a kid in here."

Another startled swear was interrupted by what sounded like a stomp and a squeal.

"Oi! what'd'jya do that for Salty?"

Salty answered in a low voice, "I'm telling you to watch the language, there's a kid in the dining room."

A light, freckle faced youth stuck his head out the service window and spotted Harry. "Well, would'jya look at that! Say kid, where'd you come from?"

Hope stepped between Harry and the window, "he's with me, Jim."

"You?" Jimmy spluttered, "didn't know you had a kid Hope. Never would'a pegged you for a-"

Whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off by a big black fist dragging him back into the kitchen by the back of his stained white collar, "now Jimmy, if you can't talk nice before a lady, I'm going to put you back on dishwashing duty and let Samuel take your place."

The man who filled the gap smiled and spoke more smoothly to Hope and Harry, "sorry about him, learned all his manners in the gutters, its nice to meet you son, you can call me Salty."

Harry smiled back, "pleasure to meet you Salty, my names Harry."

Salty grinned more broadly still, nodding at Hope, "right polite young man you've got there, Hope." He waved back at Harry as the door chime rang its first visitor. "You need anything Harry, you just ask ol' Salty. Mind you don't come in the kitchen though, dangerous back here."

As if to emphasize his point, a clang and another loud swear resonated from the narrow galley. Salty disappeared from view, though his voice could still be heard.

"That's it, Jimmy, take off that jacket. Samuel? I've got a job for you."

Hope waited tables, stopping only to bring Harry some toast for breakfast and a sandwich at noon. She sat beside him and ate her own meal quickly in the lull between the lunch and afternoon tea break crowds, keeping one eye on the door as she asked him about his sketches.

The dining room was empty by five, the door locked and closing sign hung in the window. Harry beat Hope to the salt and pepper shakers, gathering them two at a time and setting them on the tray they'd come from that morning. Hope thanked him quietly as she overturned the chairs onto the tables and began to sweep.

"Hope?" Salty peered through the serving window, setting two take-out boxes in a bag on the counter as he spoke, "there's some leftovers here that won't keep, take them home, will you?"

Hope smiled at his obviousness. "Thanks, Salty, see you in the morning."

"Have a goodnight, you too Harry." He left with a wave and the lights dimmed as the backdoor closed.

Hope swept, mopped the floor and finally motioned Harry to the back door with the bag in hand.

"Guess that's supper sorted out, eh?" Hope sighed, setting the food in the backseat before slumping into the threadbare driver's seat and checking Harry's seatbelt clasp was secure. "I've been thinking about getting a sitter to watch you while I'm at work, it's got to be deadly dull sitting in the café all day."

Harry shook his head slowly, still as ever watching the buildings and towering buses pass by. "I wasn't bored."

"A sitter would be able to give you more attention, take you to the park or the zoo, that kind of thing, wouldn't you like that?"

"Not…" Harry started, changed his mind and hid his mouth behind his hand.

"It's ok, you can tell me." Hope encouraged softly.

"I'd… I want to. But-" Harry stammered out in fits and starts, "just, with you."

"I see." Hope smiled at the steering wheel, warmth flooding through her. "I've got Friday off, we could go to the zoo together for your birthday."

"What about looking for a house? Isn't that more important?" Harry asked quizzically.

"I really don't want you to worry about that Harry, we'll find a place, and we can still spend your birthday doing something fun together."

They arrived at the flat, and Harry chewed on his cheek as they mounted the stairs.

"Can I decide what to do for my birthday?" he finally asked.

"Within reason, yes, of course." Hope answered absently, putting on the kettle and opening the first of the boxes. "Goodness, Salty must think we're elephants, look at all this!"

Harry looked in at the heaping scoops of mash and thick slabs of roast beef. The second box was bursting with slightly soggy Yorkshire puddings and hearty roasted carrots and beets. "Wow. That's just for us? How come Salty made so much extra?"

"I really don't know Harry, but we'd better eat what we can, so it doesn't go to waste."

She made up plates for each of them, crisping the Yorkshires in the little toaster oven before pouring the gravy for each of them.

"There's no deadline here Harry, you have time to chew." Hope admonished gently as he nearly gagged on the first bite of roast. "Have you decided what you'd like to do on your birthday?"

Harry slowed, chewing his carrot thoughtfully and swallowing it before answering with a decided nod. "I want to go house hunting -that's what they called it on the telly- with you, and maybe… could we have a slice of cake?"

"Are you sure you don't want a party? We could invite some of your classmates to the park?" Hope asked, but he shook his head decisively. "Alright, we can have cake and go house hunting, and we can always scout for parks while we're looking around."

That decision made; Hope started a new list. Harry watched and even ventured an occasional suggestion.

Needs:

Two bedrooms

Full bath

Kitchen -H

Wants:

Working oven

Tub

Garden -H

Good closets

Furnished

near a park -H

The rest of the week passed in a similar manner, early mornings in the diner, Harry had put himself in charge of the salt and pepper shakers and Hope patted his head affectionately as he flipped the open sign as she unlocked the door.

Every evening Salty 'made too much' and a box or three found their way into Hope's hands. Harry helped to wash or dry the dishes at Hope's side every evening, looking so satisfied to help that Hope couldn't bring herself to tell him to go play. There was a comfortable rhythm beginning to form between them, made easier by Harry's eagerness to please. That eagerness worried Hope, she'd have been better satisfied with a little rebellion now and again, it would be a sign of confidence in her.

Nevertheless, Harry was learning to voice his opinions in public, and she watched with pride as Harry confronted Salty about the fourth take-away box on the usual stack, Thursday evening

"You really need to measure more carefully, Salty. It's not good to waste." Harry admonished gently stern.

"It's not wasted if it makes you grow up strong and healthy, eh son?" Salty answered with a wink.

Harry contemplated the evening meal of porkchops and rice and concluded in an astonished voice. "I think Salty does it on purpose. Makes so much food, I mean. There are even extra carrots, and I told him how much I liked them last time…"

"You might be right, Harry, he's got a soft spot for you."

"Why?"

Hope considered whether or not to tell Harry the truth, he was so young. Young, yes, but not naïve. She bit her lip and said simply, "Salty was a young and hungry little boy once too."

"He was?" Harry's eyes widened at the thought. "And he still grew big and strong?"

"He sure did, and so will you if you keep eating like this." Hope smiled at him; her warm eyes gleaming at him as he wiped the last of the sauce from his plate with a bit of dinner roll. "Well, tomorrow's a big day, I think we should get to bed early."

Harry nodded eagerly, jumping up to carry his plate to the sink and begin the washing up.

For the first time in Harry's memory, he dreamt of a happy birthday, and believed it could really come true.