Change of Plans

by Abby Logan

  

    It was a hot day.  Blistering hot, but of course, Alastair Brant didn't know the difference.  He was sitting in a Taxi, the air conditioner turned up high.  Next to Alastair was his charge, an exuberant and enlivened four year old named Hazel Delaney.  Hazel sat beside him, her legs dangling haphazardly over the seat, her tongue stuck out slightly as she drew a picture.

   "Yes, it's finished!" shouted Hazel, startling Alastair from his thoughts.   Her crisp, babyish Irish accent was different then his own British one, and he was still getting used to it, plus her  hyper and emphatic character was extremely unpredictable.

   "Look! Look Alley!"  She squealed with delight.  He cringed.  He didn't know what to make of it when she called him Alley.  He looked down at the picture she had devised with her thick and chubby hands.  It was two stick figures, one tall and lanky, the other short and stout.  They were holding hands.

   "What is it?" he asked gruffly.  The little one laughed.

   "It's you and me!"  Hazel set the picture down and hugged Alastair's waist as best she could, being in the sitting position that she was.  She looked up at him her eyes large and shining.

   "I'm so glad you came and got me."

   Alastair had picked up the child from a rundown orphanage that had been disbanded.  He had been merely escorting her to a new orphanage in Dublin, but the plans had been abandoned when some vital information had been disclosed.  He felt sympathy for Hazel, having been an orphan in his early life.  It could be very lonely.  Alastair sighed and turned to look out the window.  What met his eyes was downtown London, all bustle and business.  Scores and scores of people peppered the sidewalks, gazing into shop windows or haggling with street vendors.

 Her father and mother had been murdered after Hazel's birth.  The entire situation had been kept hush-hush, up until the procuring of the child.  Now, Alastair was escorting Hazel to a secure location where she would be kept safe and more analyzing  of her past could be done.  They had made an seven hour drive to London, then caught a taxi to take them the rest of the way.  Their previous driver, an agent named McGreevy, had been called off to "more important work" and left them stranded in the huge city.

   "Here's your destination, sir," called the taxi driver, who had been silent the entire time. The taxi pulled up to the curve.  Outside was a tall dilapidated building that housed secret headquarters underneath.

   "Are you sure you gave me the right address?" asked the driver, eying the building.  His face bore an expression of obvious confusion.

   "Yes, thank you."  Alastair pulled at Hazel's short arm as he opened the car door.  "Come on Hazel.  Time to get out."  He paid the taxi driver and watched as he drove away, making sure he didn't stick around.

   Alastair was extremely thankful that the car ride was over.  Throughout the long journey,  Hazel had been loud and curious, asking questions about everything.  The only moments of peace had been when she took a two hour nap, exhausted by the day's happenings.  Even then, Alastair and McGreevy had dared not to make a loud noise or even talk with their voices above a loud whisper.  The stakes had been too high.

   Hazel followed, as close to docile as Alastair guessed she could get.  She made a scrunched up face.  "It's hot out Alley."  There it was again, that pet name.  She was indeed an audacious child.

   "Yes, come Hazel, we'll go inside where it will be cooler."  Hazel followed him, holding tightly to his large hand.  He thought of the picture she had drawn.  She was a sweet child, despite her energy.  She had also attached herself quite securely to Alastair.

   Alastair had a fleeting image of life with a child.  It seemed to be more interesting and colorful.  His own life had been getting drab as of late.  Being a secret service agent could at times be exciting, but Alastair had not been assigned to an exciting job in ages.

   Maybe Hazel could come and live with him, in his own house in London.

   Alastair stopped with the sudden revelation.  He turned on his heel, Hazel right behind him.  He hailed yet another taxi.

    "Where are we going now?"  There was whininess in Hazel's voice as she stood, waiting with Alastair for the taxi.  Her hand was still tightly clamped around his.

   Alastair looked down at her.  She was, he realized for the first time, very cute.  Her eyes were vividly green and round.  Her mouth was slightly puckered with complaint.  Her hair was mussed about in frizzy, blonde ringlets.

   Alastair smiled at her.  "We're going home."