He pulled a handful of cut-up maypole ribbons from hisblue wool coat pocket and selected just one. He squeezed it in the palm of his hand tight as he possibly could. It was the same purple ribbon from that last May Day together. 'I want...,' Richard sighed and closed his eyes, 'I wish today’s the day I find you again, mate.' He took the narrow strip of material to the oak tree by the water and tied it on a low hanging branch. It flapped lazily in the English breeze. From his leather bag, he retrieved a folded white handkerchief and unwrapped its delicate treasure. It held a rusty nail with a battered head but shined with a recently sharpened tip. Crouching down to half his height, he traced his fingers on the horizontal lines on the trunk of the old oak. Twenty lines for twenty years passed, the first as heavy as the day it was whittled. Richard revisited the memory of the Spring morning his mum helped him carve it.. He pushed the tip of the nail into the bark and tapped it with a massive stone he'd found by the shore, waters edge. Line number twenty one was carved right next to his forty. It was still early morning a with a few scattered clouds. A break from the grey British dullness that often lingered for weeks on end. He sat cross-legged against the oak's trunk, stealing moments with his tripoded camera, drinking hot chocolate from his flask; letting his eyes trail lazily across the green outlines of Welsh Harp - a nature conservation in Northwest London. A single osprey flew from the east and over the reservoir towards the national stadium; its white stomach and black-tipped tails, mirrored in the still morning water. 'Click, Click, Click' whispered the camera.'Look at the giant seagull, Dickie, look, look, look!' Richard held his breath as it dipped its wings, swooping back and breaking the water using its claws.'Did it catch a fish?' Blinking hard, he sighed. 'Where are you, Tommy?' The osprey was already back in flight by the time he shook off the memory, climbing to the sky, before disappearing past the forest of London homes and the North Circular on the opposite bank. All that remained was a ripple in the reflection of its majestic departure. He took the longer route to get around the main footpath and car park on the west side of the reservoir. Weathered walkers tended not to stray from the trail or their Google maps, and the noise of chatty walkers was filtered by the whistles of branches. The secret path accessible for those who know about it, although muddy most days. The beginning of the path was concealed among the heavy greenery at the base of a hill. While it may be tricky for outsiders to navigate, Richard knew this walk like the back of his hand. He dug his Wellington's into the mud and took longer strides, breathing in the smell of mulchy earth and sweet oily wildflowers. It was mid-spring and the forest was alive with a bounty of colourful blooms. Smatterings of dog violets climbed the long grass and danced to the dandelions flight. He paused to watch a small forest friend bat it's tiny orange wings after landing on the spike of the tripod hanging from his old leather bag. 'Is it a moth, Dickie?' 'I think it's a butterfly.' The opening on the northeast part of the reservoir led down to an old wooden pavilion by the water. A place where sixteen years before, he had discovered a little blue trainer in the reedbed among the swans. The shoe was still warm, possibly in the sunlight shining on its surface, or perhaps the foot of his brother, Tommy, that was nowhere to be seen. He remembered it all like it was yesterday. Taking off his hat, Richard leaned over and watched the reflection of his blue wool coat flickering in The Harp.'Count to one hundred then come and find me!' 'A hundred is awfully long, Tommy.' He bent forward and put his face into his hands. 'One, two, three...' he said out loud. 'Are you playing hide-and-seek?' Richard stood up, startled by the voice. A little boy, no more than five years old, stood beside him. His eyes were red and cheeks glistened with tears. He crouched down to the little boy's height. 'Tommy?' 'No, I'm Charlie. Who are you?' 'Oh God, sorry.' he leaned against the pavilion wall for support. 'Sorry Charlie, you gave me a small fright, mate. I am Richard. Where are your mummy and daddy?' he stood up and looked around but there wasn't anyone else in sight. Charlie began to cry. He held the sleeve of Richard's blue wool coat while his little body trembled. 'I got lost,' he sobbed. 'I lost my mummy.' 'It is fine Charlie, don't you worry... I can help you find her' 'Will I be in a lot of trouble?' 'No silly, you won't be in trouble. You are just lost.' Richard took tissues out of his leather bag and wiped Charlie's eyes. 'Now blow your nose and we'll find her.' he held the tissue to the boy's head and laughed when he blew him a trumpet. 'Now, which way did you come from?' he asked, yanking for his bag and tripod. Charlie pointed his finger west and Richard figured he could have come in from the car park by the sailing club. It was a ten-minute walk on the flat path, and easy to find Charlie's mum if she was on the lookout. 'Can I hold your hand?' Charlie asked. 'I am a bit scared.' 'Sure,¨ he extended his hand and felt the small warm fingers grip to his thumb as hard as the little one could. They passed through a grove of trees, stepping over protruding roots and patches of moss. The temperature dipped in the shade. He pauses; bundling his scarf around Charlie's neck. 'How did you manage to get lost?' 'I was following the big seagull,' Charlie said. 'Did you see it? It was massive.' 'Yeah, I did. But that big bird was an osprey. Rare to see them this far south. They look a bit like seagulls but they're bigger and shinier' 'Offspray.' Charlie giggled, 'Off. Spray.' 'Yes. Osprey.' Richard chuckled. 'Off. Spray... Off. Spray.' 'You'll eventually get it.' They emerged from a shortcut and found the pebbled trail that led to the main footpath towards the sailing club. Richard could see a set of elderly power walkers ascending a small hill in the distance. Only a van had been parked while a weathered yarning hung diagonally to the side of it. When he saw the west reservoir glistening at the far end of the horizon, he knew they were close. 'Richard. Who were you playing hide-and-seek with?' 'Oh, I had been just pretend-playing. I used to play with my brother Tommy. He was five.' 'I used to be five. I'm six and 4 months now' he beamed showing a gap where his front tooth had dropped out. 'Are you going to find him if you're taking me to my mummy?' 'I will find him.' Richard pushed his lips together. 'One day.' 'But isn't he too little to be left alone?' 'Tommy is gone, Charlie.' Richard took a deep breath before continuing. 'he has been lost for a long, long time. I come here to simply to have a look.' 'My grandad got lost. He was living in a house with friends the same age as him. And then mummy said he went to heaven but I heard her telling my auntie Emma on the phone that they lost him.' 'Oh,' Richard squeezed Charlie's hand. 'If people get lost then they could get found as well, right.' he nodded his head agreeing with himself. 'My grandad leaves me hints and clues. Like one time, mummy and I were outside walking Thatcher, that is our dog, and we found a white bottle cap with a number twenty-six inside and a horse on it...' 'Uh-huh.' 'Well, twenty-six is the number of his house, until he went into the house with his old friends, and the horse is because he liked to go to The White Horse pub for a pint after tea every night.' 'That is a brilliant clue. Perhaps you could be a detective for Scotland yard when you're older. Or better, 221B Baker Street' Richard laughed. 'Yes, that is what my mummy says.' Charlie's brown hair creeping out of his wooly appeared so similar to Tommy's on the day he vanished. 'When I'm bigger, I could help you find your brother.' He put his hands on his hips and lifted his eyebrows as if he was already on the case. 'I'd like that very much.' 'Good. Can Tommy leave you clues like grandad does?' 'I'm not sure. I think so.' he explained, 'Perhaps, I'm just too grown up to be able to see them now.' 'What rubbish? How can you be too grown up to find clues?' 'You're right, Charlie. Perhaps I just forgot how to find them. Thanks for reminding me though.' 'You are welcome. Clues are important.' Charlie smiled. ____________________________ 'Oh my God. Charlie! Where on earth have you been, darling?' Richard was standing by the doorway of the Welsh Harp Environmental Education Centre. He smiled warmly as Charlie's mum ran towards them scooped her boy up into her arms. 'I got lost, mummy. I'm sorry but I was following an Off Spray, it's like a massive seagull, mum and then it flew off over the water. After that, I didn't know how to get back. But, I found Richard, ' he said, pointing at him; who just nodded his head. Charlie's mother mouthed a thank you and pulled her son in for another embrace. 'You shouldn't run off by yourself. Even though you know parts of The Harp, don't wander off, my love. I've been worried sick.' 'It's okay mummy, I only got a little bit lost. I wasn't even scared.' he smiled shyly towards Richard. 'Well, thank goodness you found Mr. Richard.' 'I know. He has been playing hide-and-seek with Tommy. Not for long, once I find him. Tommy got lost, mummy. Just like grandad.' 'Oh.' She reduced to Charlie's size into the floor and rubbed his hair, instinctively looking for injuries. 'Is your son missing, Richard? do you want some help looking for him?' 'Twenty-one years ago, I am afraid, and he was my little brother.' 'I am... Richard, I am so sorry. That must've been awful for you and your family.' 'Yeah, it was. Mum passed away the following year it happened and dad never came to forgiving himself for losing him.' 'Is your father still with you?' 'Gone too. A few years ago, I’m afraid.' Richard coughed and looked out the window. 'I am really sorry.' 'It is alright, but thanks.' He felt his chest tighten. 'I come back the same time each year hoping to find something, you understand...' 'Clues!,' Charlie interrupted. 'Yeah, clues.' Richard laughed. 'I don't know how to thank you for finding this little bugger.' They looked at Charlie who stood with his tongue out clamped between his fingers. 'Hiya, I'm Margaret. Long for Daisy. One of the new caretaker at The Harp.' Richard took her hand and shook it. 'Nice to meet you, Daisy. he's a good lad your Charlie.' 'I am so glad you found him, he tends to wander. I just nipped to the loo, heś ran off.' 'Well, no harm done.' Richard smiled. 'And it was Charlie who found me, really. In fact, I believe he may even have been sent to me as a clue.' He winked at Charlie who clapped his hands in delight. 'Could I get you a cup of tea or coffee,' Daisy asked. 'Or hot chocolate? Charlie's favourite.' 'No thank you, Daisy,' He explained. 'I would like nothing more to join both of you for tea, but I've a bit of a walk and few things to tend to today.' 'Please Richard. Stay for tea! Please.' Charlie took his hand and tugged it towards the table. 'Not just now, mate' He whispered, 'I need to go looking for clues, you see.' 'Oh yeah,' he whispered back, 'I hope you find some brilliant ones!' 'Me too. Hey, maybe I could possibly come around later. I will let you make a wish on my wizard tree.' 'You have a wizard tree?' Charlie's eyes opened wide. 'Wait. What's a wizard tree? And are there wizards living there?' 'Yes, but all the wizards have been gone for a very long time. London real estate is somewhat ridiculous these days; even for wizards. Now, it's just a magical messenger tree which they use like Facebook. The wizards are following modern trends these days, right, but the trick is you can only send wish messages at certain times of the day or the wizards would never get to make the wishes happen if they spent all their time checking wish messages by the tree. Not too productive for a wizard, Charlie. But once in awhile, you might see one or two wizards sneaking around for new wishes, but they are a rare bunch. If you spot them, they disguise as power walkers, but no need bothering them, they never remember they are wizards in disguise... Now, do you have a ribbon, mate?' 'Have I got a ribbon mummy?' 'Erm, I do not think so, love.' Daisy smiled. 'Don't you worry, you can have one of mine.' Richard said. 'I'll come by here at seven after tea.' He patted Charlie on the head. 'See you later, Mr. Holmes.' _______________________________ He climbed down the reedbed below a small broken dock along The Harp. Gripping on them, he lowered himself into the water up to his Wellington's and walked into the cold waters as a swan, swanlings, and geese scattered to his presence.'Watch out for creepy crawlies and spiders.' He ducked his head as a dragonfly buzzed west. The water echoed around him like careless whispers as he hunched his shoulders to his ears. He discovered a quiet pond hide among the reeds only meters ahead. Using the end of his umbrella, he flicked pebbles one by one into the water. After each plop, his eyes scanned the floor; looking for anything. He got to his knees, cupping small stones in his palms, sifting through them with his thumbs, before throwing them to the side. 'Where are you, mate?' He dug his hands into the mud; scooping up moist clumps of it, and throwing them into the side. 'There has to be something here.' He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Just then, he saw the face of a round piece of glistening material partially concealed in the pond between a wall of reeds and the shore. He pushed his hands into the mud and edged it out gradually, discovering a hardened conker; chilly, and smooth with blue, yellow, and green swirls painted and protected by thick clear nail varnish. A primary school child's favourite toy weapon. He washed the dirt off in the water then wrapped it around in the palm of the hands. Was it Tommy's?'Come on Dickie, play with me.' He squeezed his eyes shut, searching his mind. Tommy tugged his sleeve; his hazel eyes staring hopeful with patience. His cheeks dimpled as his expression excited. A smile that stretched over decades in Richard's memory. The crimson coat with a blue cap was as clear as the photograph in his leather bag when he got them over Christmas holidays. New blue trainers.'Count to one hundred and do not peek.' 'One, two...' Did you teach him Conkers? Did Charlie play conkers with you? 'Three, four...' He can't remember. 'Five, six, seven...' 'Bloody rubbish!' He threw the conker past the reeds into the reservoir and it barely made a splash. __________________________ The sun had started to dip over the arch of Wembley Stadium about the time Richard headed out to see Charlie and Daisy. They stood together with the small fire pit near the caretaker's shed and Richard looked over The Harp. It laid gentle, flat and still; representing the sky as a tilted loneliness; creating the illusion of endlessness in its reflection. 'It is like the sky is upside down' Charlie pointed. 'I think that it looks like the edge of forever,' Richard said, 'like you could stand up; walk right inside the belly of the world through its glass and reflection of the stadium like magic.' 'Forever-land,' Charlie said. 'Like Peter Pan.' 'That's Never-Never land.' Richard laughed. 'It's pretty though, isn't it, darling?' Daisy said and put her arm around her son's shoulder sipping her tea. Charlie nodded with delight. 'This is the best time for wizard wishes,' Richard said. 'It's when they come out to check their messages. Come. Let's see if we can get your wish to them.' They walked up the secret path in muddied Wellington's. The oak tree stood alone near the water; its broad trunk topped with a complete head of branches high and low. 'Where are the wizards?' Charlie asked as he stepped into the shadow beneath the tree. 'You can not see them when in the open. They are a shy bunch but listen.' They huddled together, listening to the reeds and branches creaking, and the leaves rustling softly. 'They whisper to one another,' Richard continued. 'Can you hear them?' 'I think I do,' Charlie put his ear to the tree's back. 'I hear them! What exactly are they saying?' 'They're awaiting your wish, darling,' Daisy explained. 'That's right, mate.' Richard smiled and fished two purple Maypole ribbons out of his pocket. He pulled down a long thin branch to Charlie's height, then held it while Daisy assisted her son with tying the first one. 'Do not let it go yet,' Richard explained as he fastened his own ribbon to the branch. 'Now make a wish.' 'You first.' 'Okay.' Richard took a deep breath. 'I wish that one day I'll discover a clue that'll help me find Tommy.' 'I wish,' Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly closed, 'my Grandad will look after him till you find your clues.' Together they let go of the ribbons and watched as they flapped freely in the English breeze like the wings of an Off Spray.