For the Love of a Grandchild, Despite the Deceit
—I only wanted to help my children, to care for my grandson. I knew they were struggling, so I let my daughter-in-law go back to work,— sighed Margaret with a heavy heart.
At fifty-five, she was on disability, scraping by on a meagre pension. Her son was grown, and her youngest daughter studied at university, working part-time to support her.
—They’ve been married six years. Right after the wedding, they took out a mortgage. I told them a one-bed would be easier, but they insisted on two. I couldn’t help—I could barely manage myself. And her parents were no better off,— said Margaret, who lived in the quiet town of Pinebrook.
She knew her daughter-in-law, Emily, came from modest means. That didn’t bother her—but Emily’s family was nothing but trouble.
—Her grandmother never worked, yet raised five children. Lived off the land, but barely made ends meet. Only Emily’s mother, Susan, managed to rise above it. The rest? A right mess,— Margaret recalled.
One brother drank himself to an early grave. A sister was in prison for theft. Another brother had vanished without a trace. And Emily’s elder sister, Anna, seven years older, still leeched off their mother.
—Anna married some useless bloke. No kids. He’s in prison now—three years down, three to go. But she’s young, wants to live a little,— Margaret explained.
While he was free, the foolish husband had taken out loans, which Susan now paid. Anna, meanwhile, had moved back home and claimed disability benefits just to get by. She worked, but her wages barely covered food and bills.
Susan begged Anna to divorce him, to pin the debts on him—but she refused. Loved him, she said, even if it ruined her. Then came another blow:
—Our kids were doing alright, I thought. Then my husband left me,— Susan had confessed.
—I was floored. Thirty years together, and just like that! Turns out, he’d run off with some younger woman, left them all high and dry,— Margaret shook her head.
Soon, Emily came to her in tears, saying money was tight—her husband, James, had lost his side job. She’d been offered part-time work, and she begged Margaret to watch little Oliver.
—Who else would help? Susan was working, my daughter was in school, and the rest of the lot only cared for themselves. I told Emily I wasn’t sure—Oliver’s a lively one. But then she started crying!— Margaret sighed.
In the end, she agreed—but only at her own flat. First floor, secure courtyard, easy for walks. Emily’s place wasn’t far, so fetching the boy was no trouble. Gritting her teeth, Margaret took her pills and carried on.
One day, Oliver fell ill, and Margaret stayed with him at their flat. Peeking into the fridge, she gasped—empty as a wasteland. Just then, James rushed in to change before heading out.
—Emily’ll be back soon, ta!— he called.
—Where are you off to?— Margaret frowned.
—Odd job. Covering a shift.
—And then it hit me,— she said, voice trembling. —They’d all lied! Emily wasn’t working for the mortgage—she was paying her sister’s debts! James was breaking his back at two jobs, I was wrecking my health, and all for her rotten family!
Margaret was furious. She confronted her son, but he defended his wife—claimed she was only trying to help. How could they lie to her face like that?
She knew things would never be the same now. Maybe she’d never see Oliver again. But she wouldn’t stand for such deceit. Her heart ached, but the truth was worth the pain.
