Emily stood by the window, watching her daughter Sophie load the last boxes into the car. Sophie fussed about, rearranging bags and explaining something to her husband. Thirty-one years old, a proper grown woman, yet Emily still saw the little girl who used to cling to her skirt, afraid to be left alone.
“Mum, are you ready?” Sophie called from the driveway. “We should get going!”
Emily picked up her small bag of essentials from the windowsill and slowly made her way to the door. In the hallway, framed photos sat on the sideboard—Sophie’s wedding, her granddaughter Lily’s birthday, a family holiday in Dorset. A normal family life, but now it all felt so distant.
“Coming,” she replied, locking the flat behind her.
The car waited in the drive, boot wide open. Sophie’s husband, James, leaned against the porch, smoking and glancing at his watch.
“Hello, Emily,” he nodded. “All right?”
“Fine,” she said shortly.
James always addressed her formally, even after eight years. Not that he was a bad sort—just… distant. Emily never felt at ease around him.
“Hop in the back, Mum,” Sophie said, opening the rear door. “More comfortable.”
They drove in silence. Emily watched the familiar streets fade into unfamiliar neighbourhoods. Moving in with Sophie had seemed the right choice. After losing her husband, living alone had become hard, and her health wasn’t what it used to be. Plus, there was Lily—she could help look after her.
“Here we are,” Sophie announced as the car stopped outside a modern block of flats. “Home sweet home.”
The flat was spacious and bright—a large lounge, a separate kitchen, three bedrooms. Sophie proudly showed off the fresh paint, new furniture, the gleaming appliances.
“This is your room, Mum,” she said, opening the door to the smallest bedroom. “I set it up just for you.”
It was tidy, but impersonal. A single bed, a wardrobe, a desk by the window. Everything new, everything unfamiliar.
“Thank you, darling,” Emily said, setting her bag down. “Lovely.”
“Mum, where’s Lily?” she asked, glancing around.
“Staying with a friend for the day. I’ll bring her round tomorrow so you two can properly meet.”
Emily nodded. She’d only seen Lily a handful of times—on birthdays, at Christmas. Sophie rarely visited, always busy with work, the house, her husband.
That evening, they sat in the kitchen sipping tea. James scrolled through his tablet while Sophie chatted about the neighbours, the nearby shops.
“You’ll like it here, Mum,” she said. “Quiet area, nice people. There’s a playground out back, and the GP’s just down the road.”
“Yes, it’s lovely,” Emily agreed.
“And you’ll be able to help with Lily. The nursery fees are daylight robbery, and she won’t start proper school till September.”
James looked up from his tablet.
“Soph, we agreed your mum wouldn’t be roped into childcare. She’s here to relax.”
“It’s not roping her in! Looking after her granddaughter isn’t a chore—it’s a joy.”
“Of course, I’ll help,” Emily cut in. “I didn’t move here to sit about doing nothing.”
James shrugged and went back to his screen.
The next morning, Sophie brought Lily round. She was four—bright, chatty, the spitting image of Sophie at that age.
“Lily, this is Grandma Em,” Sophie said. “She’s going to live with us now.”
“Hello, Grandma,” Lily said politely but kept her distance.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Emily crouched to meet her. “Aren’t you beautiful?”
“Mummy, why is Grandma in my toy room?”
Sophie flushed.
“Lily, this is Grandma’s room now. We’ll move your toys into your bedroom.”
“But there’s no space! Where will I build my castles?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sophie said, scooping her up. “Don’t fuss.”
Emily realised she’d taken over Lily’s cherished space. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed at her.
“Maybe I could sleep in the lounge?” she offered. “On the sofa.”
“Don’t be silly, Mum!” Sophie said. “You live here now—you need your own room.”
But all day, Lily kept glancing at Grandma’s closed door with something like longing.
Days passed. Sophie and James worked long hours, often late. Emily stayed with Lily. The little girl warmed to her bit by bit, but there was no real closeness. They were polite, like strangers making small talk.
“Lily, shall I read you a story?” Emily would ask.
“No thanks. Mummy reads me books with pictures.”
“Shall we bake biscuits?”
“Mummy buys them from the shop. She says they’re healthier.”
Each refusal stung. Emily wanted to be needed, to care for her granddaughter, but Lily kept her at arm’s length.
At dinnertime, conversation circled work, weekend plans, friends Emily didn’t know.
“How’s Charlotte getting on?” James would ask.
“Fine—got a promotion. Invited us to her cottage Saturday.”
“We’ll go. Take Lily?”
“Course. She loves it there—plays with the other kids.”
Emily stayed quiet, realising she wasn’t included. She was like furniture—present, but not part of the family’s life.
“Maybe I’ll stay home,” she ventured. “You three go.”
“Why?” Sophie frowned. “Come with us! You’ll like Charlotte.”
“Darling, I’d feel like a spare tyre. Young people having fun, and me just… there.”
“Mum, don’t be silly! Who cares about age?”
But Emily saw James exhale in relief. He hadn’t wanted his mother-in-law tagging along.
On Saturday, they left for the cottage. Emily wandered the empty flat, restless. Back home, there was always something—watering plants, chatting with Mrs. Wilkins next door, popping to the shops where the till girls knew her.
Here, everything felt foreign. Even the tea tasted wrong.
She tried the telly, but the channels were all set to programmes she didn’t care for. Opened a book but couldn’t focus.
When they returned, sun-kissed and laughing, Sophie asked, “All right, Mum? Not too bored?”
“Fine. Had a quiet day.”
“Good! We had a brilliant time. Lily paddled in the river, we had a barbecue…”
Lily rushed over, showing off seashells she’d collected.
“Look, Grandma! Aren’t they pretty?”
“Gorgeous,” Emily said. “Where’d you find them?”
Lily chattered about the river, the other children, how Daddy taught her to float. Emily listened, thinking—she could’ve been there, sharing the joy.
But no one had asked. Not out of malice—she just wasn’t part of their world.
Weeks passed. The feeling of not belonging grew. Emily tried making small changes—moving a vase, adding her own tablecloth. But Sophie gently corrected her.
“Mum, the flowers look better on the windowsill. More light.”
“The tablecloth doesn’t match the décor. We’re going for a consistent look.”
Emily began to see—she’d been allowed into the house, but not their lives. She could sleep in the spare room, eat at their table, mind Lily, but her thoughts didn’t matter. Her ways didn’t fit.
“Mum, why so glum?” Sophie asked one breakfast.
“Oh, nothing. Just settling in.”
“Well, settle faster! We’re happy, aren’t we?”
Happy? Emily wasn’t sure. James had grown quieter. Lily remained detached. And Sophie… polite, kind, but distant.
One evening, she overheard them arguing in the kitchen.
“James, enough! Mum’s been here a month, and you barely speak to her.”
“What’s there to say? We’ve got nothing in common.”
“She’s family! Show some respect.”
“I do. But I don’t have to be her mate.”
“You’re not even trying! Mum’s lovely. If you made an effort—”
“Let’s be honest. Your mum doesn’t belong here. She’s in the way.”
“How? She helps with Lily, keeps the place tidy—”
“That’s just it! Always underfoot. And Lily still treats her like a stranger.”
“Give it time!”
“Time won’t change it. Kids sense things. Your mum’s forcing the ‘dotting grandma’ act, and it’s not working.”
Emily crept back to her room, heart pounding. So it was true. She was in the way.
Next morning, James lingered over coffee.
“Emily, we need to talk.”
She waited.
“Soph and I spoke last night. About… the situation.”
He hesitated.
“We’re a young family. We need space, privacy. Having another adult here…”
“I understand.”
“Soph wants everyone happy. ButBut sometimes happiness comes from knowing when to step back and find your own peace.
