It so happened that he was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was alive.
That was the case with Stanleyhis grandmother brought him up, though his mother was still living. It must be said, his mum was wonderfullovely and kind-hearted. But she worked as a singer at the Royal Albert Hall, so she was rarely home. Her frequent travels even led to a divorce from his father. So Stanley was left in his grandmothers care.
For as long as he could remember, whenever Stanley returned to his block of flats, he would glance up at the fourth floor and see the familiar silhouette of his dear Nan waiting by the window, eager for his return. And whenever she saw him off somewhere, she would always wave from the window, and hed always wave back.
But when Stanley turned twenty-five, his Nan passed away. Now, coming home and no longer seeing that beloved figure at the window, he felt an unbearable emptiness. Even when his mother was home, Stanley felt lonely. They hadnt spoken properly in years, sharing no common interests, not even dealing with household matters together. They might as well have been strangers.
A few months after his grandmothers death, Stanley suddenly decided to move to another city. His profession was in high demandIT specialists were needed everywhere. Online, he found a good company offering a generous salary and even covering rent. His mother was delightedafter all, her son was grown now, and he had to find his own way, far from home.
He packed only a few essentialshis Nans favourite teacup as a keepsake and some clothes to start with. With a rucksack slung over his shoulder, he took one last look at the kitchen window, but no one was there. His mother didnt even come to wave him off. A taxi quickly took him to the railway station, and soon he was lying on the top bunk of a sleeper carriage.
The next morning, the train arrived on schedule. Stanley found his new office, checked in, and went to view flats based on addresses hed found online. Navigating the unfamiliar city with his phone, he suddenly noticed a block of flats that looked eerily similar to his own. Soviet-era buildings all looked alike, but this one felt differentperhaps because the window frames were painted the same peculiar shade of turquoise.
Without thinking, Stanley strayed from his route and slowly approached the building. He just wanted to stand there and remember his Nan. As he got closer, he instinctively looked up at the window where the kitchen should beand froze. His head spun at the sight. On the fourth floor, behind the kitchen window, he saw his grandmothers silhouette. He recognised her instantly, his heart nearly leaping from his chest.
Stanley was a practical man and knew this was impossible. He quickly shut his eyes, turned away, and began walking off. His mind told him it was just another old ladybut his heart cried out, *Wait! Its her!* Against reason, he stopped, turned back, and looked up again.
His Nan was still there. Stanley couldnt help himself. With his rucksack still on his shoulder, he rushed inside, up to the fourth floor. Just like in his old building, the door lock was faulty, so he flew up the stairs and rang the flats bell. The door was opened by a bleary-eyed woman in a dressing gown, who frowned at the stranger.
“What do you want?”
“Me?” Stanley stammered. “II want my Nan.”
“Your Nan?” the woman repeated, baffled. Then she suddenly grinned and called over her shoulder, “Mum! Theres a bloke here for you!”
While her mother came to the door, the woman eyed Stanley curiously. His head wasnt just spinning nowhe felt his heart might stop.
“Who was asking for me?” A woman in her fifties, equally dishevelled, appeared in the doorway.
“Mum, youll never guess,” the younger woman smirked. “He just called you Nan.”
“Wait,” Stanley murmured. “I wasnt calling for you I sawin your kitchen windowmy Nan was standing there. I swear I saw her.”
“Are you on something?” the woman scoffed. “Theres no Nan here! Just me and my mum. Got it?”
“Right Sorry I mustve” Stanleys vision blurred. He took a step back, dropped his rucksack, and steadied himself against the wall. “Ill juststand here a moment, then go.”
The woman began shutting the door, but her mother stopped her.
“Hold on, lad,” the older woman said, concerned. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he lied weakly. “Dont worry.”
“Fine? Your face is red as a beetroot. Come inside.” She quickly guided him into the flat, barking orders at her daughter. “Emily, bring his bag in! And fetch the blood pressure monitornow!”
The younger woman, wide-eyed, scrambled to obey.
Stanley was sat on the hallway sofa as the woman checked his blood pressure.
“One-eighty over a hundredthis isnt a joke.”
“Must be nerves,” he mumbled.
“Nerves? From what?”
“I told you I saw my Nan in your window. She was standing there, in the kitchen looking at me.”
“Your Nan?”
“Yes. But she died. Two months ago. Are you sure theres no elderly woman here?”
“Youre a strange one,” Emily chuckled. “I told you, its just me and Mum. But if itll calm you down, Ill go check the kitchen.”
She marched off, and seconds later, a shriek echoed through the flat.
“Mum! What is this?!” She stormed back, clutching a teacup. “Where did this come from?! Weve never had this at home!”
Stanley stared.
“Thats my Nans cup. I brought itbut its supposed to be in my bag. I took it as a keepsake. This is weird.”
“Where *is* your bag?” The mother and daughter exchanged baffled glances.
“Right there.” He nodded at his rucksack by the door. “The cup should be inside.”
They emptied the bagbut no second cup appeared.
To this day, the family has no explanation for what happened. Especially Emilys motherwho, incidentally, became Stanleys mother-in-law two months later. Some things are just strange.
