“Mum, maybe we should just let Gran go and get lost? It’d be better for everyone,” said Emily defiantly.
“Em, don’t forget to lock the door,” her mum replied tiredly, rising from the table.
“Mum, seriously? Are you going to remind me forever?” Emily shot back, offended.
“Not forever—just while Gran’s living with us. If she wanders outside, she’ll get lost and—”
“—and die under a hedge while we live with the guilt… Mum, maybe we should just let it happen?” Emily challenged.
“Let what happen?” her mum asked, confused.
“Let her go and get lost. You’ve said yourself you’re sick of looking after her.”
“How can you say that? She’s my mother-in-law—not blood to me, but she’s still your grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” Emily narrowed her eyes, the way she always did when she was angry. “Where was she when her precious son walked out on us? When she refused to babysit me—her own granddaughter? She never spared you a thought when you were working yourself to the bone just to scrape by. She even blamed you when Dad left—”
“Stop it right now!” her mum snapped. “I shouldn’t have told you any of this. I’ve failed as a mother if you can’t show an ounce of kindness—to family, of all people. It terrifies me. When I’m old, will you treat me the same? What’s gotten into you? You were always so soft-hearted. You couldn’t walk past a stray kitten without bringing it home. But Gran isn’t a kitten…” Her mum shook her head wearily. “She’s already been punished enough. Your father abandoned her too, not just us.”
“Mum, you’ll be late for work. I promise I’ll lock the door,” Emily said, guilt creeping into her voice.
“Fine. Before we say things we’ll regret…” But her mum didn’t move.
“Mum, I’m sorry—but it hurts to look at you. Skin and bones. You’re only forty, but you hobble around like an old woman, dragging your feet, always exhausted. Why are you staring at me like that? Who else will tell you the truth if not your own daughter?” Emily hadn’t realised she was shouting again.
“Thanks for that. Just make sure she doesn’t touch the cooker or leave the tap running.”
“See? This is what I mean. We’re prisoners because of her. No life of our own. Mum, let’s put her in a care home. She’d be looked after properly there. She doesn’t even understand—”
“Not this again,” her mum cut in.
“It’d be better for everyone—her most of all,” Emily pressed, ignoring her mother’s growing irritation.
“I won’t hear another word. I’m *not* sending her away. How much longer does she even have? Let her stay at home—”
“She might outlive *you*. Just go to work. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll lock the door, I *promise*,” Emily repeated bitterly.
“I’m sorry. I’ve put too much on you… All your friends are out enjoying themselves, and you’re stuck watching Gran.”
They hadn’t noticed Gran’s bedroom door was ajar. She’d heard everything—though whether she understood was another matter. Likely, she’d forget it all in minutes.
Once her mum left, Emily stepped into what used to be her bedroom, now Gran’s.
“Gran, do you need anything?” she asked.
Gran’s blank stare gave no answer.
“Come on, I’ll give you a sweet,” Emily said, helping her up and leading her to the kitchen.
“Who are you?” Gran stared vacantly.
“Drink your tea.” Emily sighed, placing a wrapped toffee on the table.
Gran had always loved sweets. She and Mum hid them, rationing her to one with tea. Emily watched as Gran fumbled with the shiny wrapper. Through thinning grey hair, patches of pale scalp showed. Emily looked away.
Once, Gran had dyed and teased her hair into a full bouffant, painted her lips bright red, and arched her brows. Emily remembered the faint perfume she’d worn, how men used to notice her—before her mind began slipping.
Emily couldn’t decide what she felt for Gran—pity, resentment, or just exhaustion? A sharp knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts.
“Mum must’ve forgotten something,” she muttered, heading to answer.
But it was her friend, sixth-former James. Mum disapproved of him, so he only visited when she was out.
“Hey. You’re early—Mum just left,” Emily whispered.
“I know. She didn’t see me.”
“Lily!” Gran’s voice carried from the kitchen.
“Who’s Lily?” James asked.
“That’s what she calls Mum—thinks she’s her daughter. Wait in the loo. She’s having a ‘lucid’ day.” Emily nudged him toward the bathroom.
Gran sat at the kitchen table.
“There’s nobody here,” Emily said, finding an empty cup and wrapper.
“I want tea.”
“But—” Emily bit back a sigh. Explaining was pointless.
Gran forgot everything—especially recent events—yet recalled distant memories in patchy detail. Sometimes she confused them, didn’t recognise them. But rarely, fleetingly, clarity returned.
Was Gran pretending for another sweet? Or had she genuinely forgotten she’d just had tea? Who could tell? Emily refilled her cup and slid another toffee across the table.
Gran struggled with the wrapper, fingers clumsy. When the tea was gone, Emily led her back to bed.
“Sleep now,” she said, shutting the door.
James peered from the bathroom. “Coast clear?”
“Yeah. Kitchen.” Emily checked the lock, then followed.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing earbuds, music low. Emily swayed slightly, eyes closed—until she realised Gran had slipped into the hall…
When she went to see James out, the front door stood open.
“The door… I didn’t lock it. She’s gone. Mum will think I did it on purpose,” Emily fretted, near tears.
“Why would she think that?” James asked.
“You don’t *get* it. Earlier, I *said* it’d be better if she got lost. Mum’ll think I left it unlocked to spite her.”
“Right, grab your coat. We’ll find her—she can’t have gone far,” James said.
Emily checked the hook—Gran’s quilted coat hung untouched. Boots, too.
“Did she leave in *slippers* and a *dressing gown*?” Emily stared at James.
“Maybe she’s at a neighbour’s? Went into the wrong flat… I’ll check outside—you knock on doors,” James said, already darting downstairs.
No one answered. Emily gave up, sprinting outside. James scoured the estate—behind bushes, the playground slide…
“Nothing. Let’s split up—you go right, I’ll take left. Meet back here,” he ordered, already running.
Emily even checked the bus stop. No sign. How long had it been? Half an hour? Where could a confused old woman in slippers go?
“We should call the police,” she said when they regrouped.
“Wait. Think—where did she used to go? Favourite places?” James panted.
Emily wracked her brain. Nothing came.
“Expand the search. You head toward the school, I’ll loop the other way,” James said.
Streetlights flickered unevenly. Emily hurried past dark patches, sure shadows hid threats. Near the school, she remembered Gran’s story: once, she’d forgotten her exercise book, snuck back inside, and the caretaker locked her in. She’d jumped from a first-floor window, nearly breaking her ankle.
Though Gran hadn’t attended *this* school, she’d always mentioned it passing. Emily shoved the gate—unlocked. The building was a squat “H” shape. Rounding one wing, she spotted a group of lads laughing at something.
*Gran.*
There she stood, in her pale blue dressing gown. One lad dangled a sweet wrapper, yanking it back whenever she reached. Their laughter rose as she stumbled.
“She doesn’t understand, you idiots! Which asylum lost you?” the ringleader sneered. “Want a sweet, Granny?”
“Leave her *alone*!” Emily shouted.
They turned, smirking.
“Look, another one!”
“You her granddaughter?”
“Escaped together, have you?”
The boy with the wrapper sauntered over. “Want a sweet?”
Emily stepped back. They closed in, blocking Gran, their mocking grins turning predatory. Her back hit the fence. The gate was too far. Suddenly, they lunged.
She swung wildly, but three against one—one pinned her arms, others pressed her against the bars, hands groping—
“Oi! *Back off!*” James’ voice cut through.
Two retreated, but the thirdThe rest of the lads scattered as James tackled the ringleader, giving Emily the chance to break free and pull Gran to safety, her heart pounding with the unshakable understanding that kindness, even when unremembered, was never wasted.
