Emily, are you watching the boys? Can we count on you? Olivia looks pleadingly at her motherinlaw.
Valerie smiles at her grandchildrensevenyearold Arthur and fiveyearold Danielwho are already kicking off their shoes in the hallway.
Of course, love. Dont worry. Well have a wonderful time with the lads.
Olivia nods, plants a quick kiss on each boys head, and slips out the door. Valerie runs a hand over her silver hair, neatly tied in a bun, and turns to the grandchildren. Arthur hauls Daniel into the living room where the television sits.
Grandma, can we watch cartoons? Daniel shouts.
Sure, dear. First wash your hands and have something to eat. Ive made your favourite pancakes with curd.
The boys cheer and dash to the bathroom. Valerie moves to the kitchen, where a plate of golden pancakes steams on the hob. Cooking for her grandsons gives her a sense of purpose; since retiring three years ago she often looks after the boys while Olivia and Peter are at work or running errands.
She sets the table, recalling a phone chat she had yesterday with her friend Tara. Tara moved to Brighton four years ago, closer to the sea, and left her London flat to her daughter Amelia. Valerie never liked Ameliashe grew up pampered and demanding. At thirtytwo Amelia worked as an influencer or something vague online, earning well enough to afford designer clothes and frequent trips abroad.
Grandma, is there any cream? Arthur peeks into the kitchen.
Its in the fridge, sunshine. Want me to get it or do you want to try?
Ill get it myself! he declares, throwing the fridge door open.
They devour the pancakes, smothered in cream, while Valerie tells them about the autumn woods and how she once went mushroompicking with their grandfather. Daniel listens with his mouth open, Arthur asks questions. After breakfast the boys bolt to the TV room, and Valerie begins washing the dishes.
The phone rings. Its Tara.
Val, hi! Im in London for three days. Come over to Amelias tomorrow, well have tea and a chat. Ive missed you terribly!
Valerie lights upshe hasnt seen Tara in over a year, only videocalls.
Sweetheart, Id love to, but the boys are here. Olivia left them for the weekend.
Just bring them along! The flat is huge, theres room for everyone.
Valerie hesitates. She wants to see her friend, but lugging the boys around isnt ideal.
Alright, she finally says. Ill tell them to behave.
The next morning she dresses the boys a little nicerArthur in a blue sweater with a tiny car, Daniel in a green hoodie with a dinosaur. She throws on her best camel coat, saved for special occasions.
Boys, were off to my friends. Her daughter, Amelia, lives there. She has a lot of valuable things, so dont touch anything without asking, okay?
Okay, Grandma! they chorus.
The flat greets them with the scent of expensive perfume and immaculate white walls. Tara embraces Valerie, kisses her cheeks, looking slimmer and tanned from the southern sun.
Val, youre a star for coming! Come in, come in. Amelias just stepped out for a moment.
They move into a spacious kitchen with an island and bar stools. The boys cling to Valerie, eyes darting around the delicate glassware, porcelain vases and sleek appliances.
Towels and biscuits on the table, Tara says, laying out a tray. Feel free to watch TV in the lounge; theres cable with plenty of kids channels.
Arthur and Daniel glance at each other, grab glasses of orange juice and head to the lounge. Valerie watches them go.
Dont worry, theres nothing you can break, Tara waves a hand. Tell me how youre doing.
The women chat about health, families, and the rising cost of living. Tara complains about the summer heat in Brighton, Valerie mentions a sore knee that flares up when it rainstypical smalltalk for women in their sixties.
Suddenly a crash erupts from the lounge, followed by Daniels frightened sobs. Valerie darts forward, knocking over her tea cup. She rushes into the lounge and freezes. On the carpet lies a sleek silver laptop, its screen split in two. Arthur stands pale as a sheet, Daniel wails, tears streaking his cheeks.
We we wanted to watch cartoons, Arthur stammers. It was on the sofa, we thought it was okay
Amelia returns, eyes widening at the broken laptop.
What happened here? This is my work MacBook! All my projects are on it!
Amelia, calm down, the kids didnt mean it Tara tries to intervene.
Didnt mean it? I dont care! This is the latest model I bought for twohundredfifty pounds just a month ago! Twohundredfifty pounds!
Amelias scream makes Valeries ears ring. Daniel clings to his grandmother, sniffling. Arthur bows his head, trying to hide his tears.
Ill cover the cost, Valerie whispers. Im sorry, truly. The children didnt intend any harm.
Youll cover it? When? I cant wait ten years for you to pay five pounds a month from your pension! Amelia snaps, her gaze scorching.
Enough, Amelia! Tara says, trying to soothe her daughter, but Amelia turns on her.
You brought these little vandals here! I have deadlines, and now my work is ruined!
Valerie hugs the boys tightly.
Well leave, she says, keeping her composure. Ill transfer the money as soon as I can. Give me your card number.
Amelia huffs, then recites the details. Valerie writes them down with trembling fingers. Tara walks them to the door, whispering, Dont be angry, Val. Shes just stressed.
Valerie nods, though humiliation burns inside her. On the tube, the boys sit silently, pressed against her. Back home she serves them soup and tucks them into bed.
That evening the children arrive. Valerie, gathering courage, tells Olivia what happened.
Twohundredfifty pounds, she repeats, looking at her daughterinlaw. Olivia, could you maybe help a little? I know the boys were careless, but
Olivia listens, lips pressed together. Her flawless makeup and poised face remain unreadable.
Valerie, youre an adult. You agreed to look after the childrentake responsibility. You missed a step, you pay the price.
The words cut deep. Valerie glances at her son, Peter, who silently puts the boys shoes away.
Dad
Mom, Olivias right, he says without meeting her eyes. You should have watched them more closely. Its your fault.
Her family, the people she loved most, say goodbye and leave.
Valerie shuffles to the kitchen, sits down. Her pension is £190 a month. Council tax is £70, food and medicines about £80. That leaves roughly £40, the amount she usually saves for the boys birthday gifts.
There is no other way out.
At the bank a young female adviser nods sympathetically while processing paperwork. The interest rate is steep; the loan will be £12 a month for three yearsmore than half her pension.
Valerie sends Amelia the money the same day. Amelia only replies with a thumbsup emoji.
A month passes. The boys no longer visit. Valerie calls Peter, but he gives short answerswork, no time, the children are at school. He eventually admits they no longer want to come to Grandmas because she cant afford gifts or tasty meals.
For Arthurs birthday she manages only a cheap building set. Olivia accepts it with a forced smile, as if handed something inappropriate.
Thanks, Valerie, she says. Weve already bought him a gaming console, so
Tara stops returning calls. Two weeks later she texts:
Val, Im sorry, but because of this I fell out with Amelia. She wont speak to me now, saying Im to blame for inviting you. Lets not talk for a while.
Valerie sits in her tiny kitchen, staring at her phone screen. On the table lie billsfor electricity, gas, and a capitalworks chargeand a loan agreement. In the fridge sit a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, a handful of rice. Her pension wont arrive for another week.
Neighbour Nina Ivanovna drops by to borrow salt, sees Valeries pale face and gasps.
Val, why so pale? Are you ill?
Nothing, just tired, Valerie replies.
How are the boys? I havent seen them for ages.
Theyre fine. Growing up.
Nina leaves, and Valerie remains in the dimming kitchen. She doesnt turn the light onshes saving electricity. Somewhere downstairs a television hums, children laugh. She sits alone, feeling useless.
She used to be in demandfeeding grandchildren, helping on the garden, joining school plays when parents couldnt. Now, the moment she stops being convenient, she ceases to be needed.
