**A Grandmother’s Divided Heart: The Drama of Emily’s Family**
Emily stands by the stove in their cosy London flat, flipping burgers, when the front door slams open. Her daughters, back from their grandmother’s, burst into the hallway.
“Oh, my girls! How was your visit with Gran?” Emily wipes her hands on her apron and steps out to greet them with a smile.
“Gran doesn’t love us!” cry Sophie and Lily in unison, their voices trembling with hurt.
“What? Why would you say that?” Emily freezes, her chest tightening with dread.
“Gran did something awful today…” the girls exchange glances before continuing.
“What did she do?” Emily’s tone sharpens, a cold weight settling in her chest.
Sophie and Lily, fighting back tears, spill the story. With every word, Emily’s face hardens in horror.
“Gran doesn’t love us!” they repeat, barely past the doorstep.
“What makes you say that?” James, their father, sets down his newspaper, frowning. Emily looks at him, waiting for answers.
“She gave all the best treats to Oliver and Grace—I saw it!” Sophie tugs at her jumper. “We got nothing. They could run around and stomp, but we were told to sit quietly. And when they left, Gran stuffed their pockets with sweets, gave them each a chocolate bar, hugged them, and walked them to the bus stop. But us—” Lily sniffles, “she just shut the door behind us!”
Emily feels the blood drain from her face. She’s long noticed how James’s mother, Margaret, dotes on her daughter Claire’s children far more than theirs. But this blatant? It’s too much. Their relationship with Margaret had always been civil—not warm, but not hostile. That changed when Claire and her husband had Oliver and Grace. Then, Margaret showed her true colours.
Over the phone, she’d gush for hours about Claire’s “perfect little angels,” while barely acknowledging Sophie and Lily. Emily had hoped her own girls would get even a scrap of that love. But when the twins were born, Margaret’s response was icy:
“Two at once? Goodness, how will you manage?”
“We’ll manage,” James had said, baffled.
“Claire could’ve used the help. Her two are such a handful!”
“And ours aren’t?” Emily snapped.
Margaret shot her a look. “A brother should help his sister. He’s family—unlike you.”
After that, Emily and James knew better than to expect support. The twins needed endless attention, but Emily’s own mother stepped in, crossing the city to help without complaint. Meanwhile, Margaret saw only Claire and her family. She’d talk for hours about Oliver and Grace, dismissing Sophie and Lily with a shrug: “They’re fine. Growing up, I suppose.”
They rarely visited—Claire lived nearby, but four kids in one flat was chaos. The moment Sophie and Lily got loud, Margaret clutched her head, complaining of a migraine until James and Emily took them home. Claire’s children always stayed.
When they did visit, the girls faced endless nitpicking—eating sweets without asking, knocking things over, being too noisy. Always ending with Margaret’s “headache” and a prompt dismissal. Yet she never stopped praising Claire’s kids: “Such perfect grandchildren! Quiet, polite, so loving!”
Oliver and Grace got new clothes weekly, spoilt with toys and treats, while Sophie and Lily only got token gifts on holidays.
Friends noticed first. When asked why Margaret favoured Claire’s children, she replied smugly, “They’re my own flesh and blood!”
“And James’s girls?”
“Who knows whose they are? Registered under my son’s name, that’s all.”
Those poisonous words eventually reached James and Emily. He confronted his mother, and Margaret briefly quieted—but not for long.
Claire lived nearby, visiting often. James took the girls less frequently, but they loved playing with their cousins—until even Oliver and Grace noticed Gran’s favouritism. Mischief was always blamed on Sophie and Lily, and Margaret believed her favourites without question.
The last straw came when the twins returned home, recounting how Margaret showered Oliver and Grace with sweets, chocolates, hugs, and a walk to the bus stop—while shoving Sophie and Lily out the door with a grumbled “I’ve got a headache.” Their bus stop was a ten-minute walk across an empty lot.
“You went alone?!” Emily gasps, horrified.
“Yeah,” Sophie mumbles, wiping her nose.
“There were stray dogs… We were scared,” Lily adds, eyes glistening. “We’re never going back!”
James and Emily exchange glances. They won’t force the girls—but James still calls his mother.
“Mum, were you really that ill?”
“What do you mean?” Margaret sounds surprised.
“Then why send them off alone? You knew where their stop was! You could’ve called me or Emily.”
“Don’t be dramatic. They’re not babies. They made it, didn’t they? They need to toughen up.”
“Mum, they’re six! They walked through an empty lot with stray dogs! You’d never let Claire’s kids do that. Why?”
“How dare you accuse me? Is this Emily’s doing? I won’t tolerate this tone!” She hangs up.
James stares at Emily, bewildered. She sighs. Of course, it’s her fault. At least James is on her side. Still, he struggles to accept his mother’s bias. Emily knows the truth—Claire’s children are “hers,” while Sophie and Lily belong to the outsider: Emily.
James can’t reconcile it. “She raised Claire and me the same! At our wedding, she was so happy…”
Emily reminds him how Margaret celebrated Oliver’s birth, showering Claire with gifts—while greeting their twins with, “Two at once? Goodness.”
“Enough,” Emily says firmly. “The girls won’t go back. Let her enjoy her ‘perfect’ grandchildren. We’ve got another Gran who doesn’t pick favourites.”
Margaret doesn’t even seem to notice Sophie and Lily’s absence. Years pass—the twins are in secondary school when Margaret falls seriously ill. Doctors insist on rest. She calls Grace first, begging for help with chores.
“Gran, I’m swamped with schoolwork!”
Oliver refuses too: “Clean? That’s women’s work.”
Only then does Margaret remember James’s girls. She calls him.
“Tell Sophie and Lily to come help. Too grown-up for their Gran now?”
“Remember why they stopped visiting?” James’s voice shakes with anger. “Ask your favourites. You’ve got two.” He hangs up.
Furious, Margaret rings Emily.
“Why won’t your girls help their sick Gran?”
“Because you cut them out long ago,” Emily replies calmly. “You made your choice. Ask Claire. I’m away on business, James too. The girls are with their other Gran—the one who loves them.”
Margaret glares at her phone. Claire won’t come either. Must she hire help? The shame! And those ungrateful girls—no wonder she never liked them. Forgotten is the fact she pushed them away.
But her favourites? Oliver’s right—cleaning isn’t a man’s job. And Grace is studying so hard. She’d help if she could. Not like those two!
