The people who asked for me to
help them were not being cruel, oh no, it is just that finders are not cheap to
hire. Every town has a finders bureau where you take your problem, it is
assessed and graded, when the fee has been paid a finder will be chosen and the
job will be done. Not always a quick fix to a problem but it sorts out the time
wasters and lazy people from the genuine cases. Most people however know about
the ‘back door’ where small requests could be handled without the bureau knowing
– ‘under the nose’ it is called. If you have
access to a four year old finder who is happy with a small gift of fruit or a
packet of sugars, then I guess that’s what you do.
Don’t get me wrong, though, when
I was four I loved visiting other people’s homes, seeing what their houses
looked like from the inside- I was very curious- or nosy- so it suited me, this
popularity. I enjoyed the cakes, drinks, sugars and fruit, I felt important and
special. There were some requests that scared or puzzled me, but generally I
was happy to help, when I could. It was very tiring though, and I never had
trouble sleeping, not when I was four.
But after a few months the whispers
began, it seemed that my talent was not consistent and my speciality was hard
to determine. There was anger when I failed to find something for one person
but managed to help their next door neighbour. Favouritism was spouted and my
parents were often confronted with red faces and spluttered insults when they
arrived home from a long, tiring day at the factory where they worked.
My best friend lost his toy hover
car in the shared garden, it was his favourite red one. He cried when I could
not find it and refused to speak or play with me for a week. We were friends
again, briefly, until I found his kitten drowned in the stream that ran behind
our houses. For some reason, his parents said, it was my fault that the kitten
was dead, I should have found it sooner.
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