Grandma Always Chose One Grandchild — “What about me, Gran?” Katya would ask softly. — “You’re a good girl, Katya. Just look at those cheeks. The nuts are for thinking, and Dima needs to study—he’s a man. Our family’s future.” — “You get on now, go dust the shelves, dear. A girl’s got to learn the value of hard work.” “Are you serious, Katya? She’s not got long… The doctors said a couple of days, maybe hours…” Dima, clutching his car keys, looked wretched in the kitchen doorway. “I’m absolutely serious, Dima. Want some tea?” Katya kept slicing apple for her daughter without turning around. “Tea? Now?” Dima stepped further in. “She’s lying there, tubes everywhere, gasping…” “She was calling for you this morning. ‘Where’s my Katya?’ she asked. My heart broke. Won’t you go see her?” “She’s your grandma! This is your last chance…” Katya arranged the apple slices on a plate and finally faced her brother. “To you, she’s Grandma. To her, you’re Dima—the golden boy, the one and only heir.” “And me? I never really existed for her.” “Are you sure I need some ‘goodbye’? What should I forgive her? Or she, me?” “Oh, give over, Kat!” Dima slammed his keys down. “Yes, she loved me more. So what? She’s old, set in her ways. But she’s dying! Do you really have to be so… cruel?” “I’m not cruel, Dima. I just feel nothing for her. Go on. Sit with her if you must. Your hand will mean more to her than I ever could.” “You’re her golden child. Shine on for her till the end.” Dima looked at his sister, turned sharply, and left, the door snapping shut behind him. Katya sighed, picked up the plate, and headed to her daughter’s room. *** In their family, things were always split down the middle. Their parents loved Katya and Dima equally. The house was always full of laughter, baking, constant coming and going. But Grandma Claudia was a different sort. “Dima darling, come here, my boy,” Grandma would croon when they visited. “Look what I’ve saved for you! Freshly shelled walnuts, and a whole bag of teacakes, just for you!” Seven-year-old Katya would watch as the special treats appeared from the old cupboard. “And me, Grandma?” she’d ask quietly. A sharp glance was all she’d get. “You’re well enough as you are, Katya. Look at those rosy cheeks. Dima needs brains for school—he’s the man. And you go on and dust those shelves. A girl must get used to her chores.” Dima, red with embarrassment, would pocket his goodie bag and sneak away, while Katya went off to the dusting. She didn’t even feel hard done by. It was just the weather—sometimes it rains, sometimes Grandma loves Dima more. Dima would always be waiting for her on the landing. “Here.” He’d push half the treats and a handful of walnuts into her hand. “Just don’t eat them in front of her, or she’ll moan again.” “You need them more—for your brains.” Katya would smile. “Oh, forget it,” Dima would grin, “she’s bonkers. Quick, eat up, before she comes!” They’d sit, munching their forbidden sweets on the stairs to the attic. Dima always shared, no matter what—even when Grandma sneaked him money “for ice cream”, he’d come running: “Hey, enough here for a couple of 99s and some bubblegum. Let’s go!” Her brother had always been her rock—the warmth he gave filled the gap left by Grandma’s chill so well that Katya hardly noticed. Years passed. Grandma Claudia aged, and when Dima turned eighteen, proclaimed that he’d get her precious city flat. “A man must have his own place to bring his wife home to!” Mum just sighed—she knew better than to argue. That night, she came to Katya. “Don’t worry, love… Your father and I will give you what we’ve saved. A nest egg towards your own home. To keep things fair.” “Mum, it’s okay,” Katya hugged her. “Dima needs it more—he’s starting a family. I’ll be fine in halls for a while.” “No, love. We can’t give to one and not the other. Take it, and don’t argue.” But Katya didn’t. Dima moved into Grandma’s flat. Katya got her brother’s old room, filled it with her books and art, and for the first time felt what it was like not to have love measured out on scales. Dima felt guilty. “Come round, Kat,” he’d say. “Irina’s made apple tart. Oh, and Gran called—wanted to know if I’d wasted ‘her’ money buying you things…” “And what did you say?” “I said I’d blown it all on pinball and fine brandy,” Dima would laugh. “She huffed for a full minute, then said: ‘That Katya’s been a bad influence on you!’” “Of course! Who else?” *** When Katya married Oleg and a baby arrived, housing became urgent. Their mum swept in. “Look, we’ve got our big three-bed. Dima has his place. Katya, you rent. Let’s swap—Dad and I’ll take a small flat, Katya gets the bigger place for her family.” “Mum,” Dima jumped in, “I waive all claim to our old place. I’ve got Gran’s flat, more than enough. Let Katya have what she needs—they’ve got a child.” “Dima, are you sure?” Oleg was taken aback. “That’s a lot of money…” “I’m sure. Kat and I have always shared. She missed out because of Gran. Don’t argue. I mean it.” Katya cried—not over the money, but because her brother was good, through and through. They swapped flats, and everyone had what they needed. Mum came to help often; Dima and his family visited every weekend. Grandma Claudia lived alone. Dima delivered shopping, fixed leaks, listened to her complaining about her health—and “ungrateful Katya”. “She never calls. Never once asks after me!” “Gran, you never wanted to know her,” Dima would say gently. “You never said a kind word to her in twenty years. Why would she call?” “I was bringing her up! Women should know their place! And look at her—grabbed herself a flat, turned her mother out!” Dima would only sigh. No point arguing. *** Katya would sit in the quiet kitchen, recalling things: Her hand pushed away from the jam. Her certificate ignored, while Dima’s childlike sketch was praised. At Dima’s wedding Grandma sat proud as a queen, but she missed Katya’s—“not well”. “Mum, why don’t we see Grandma Clarrie?” her daughter asked. “Uncle Dima says she’s really ill.” “Grandma Clarrie only wants to see Uncle Dima, love. It’s how she is.” “Is she mean?” the girl squinted. “No,” Katya mulled. “She just couldn’t love everyone. Her heart only had room for one. It happens sometimes.” That evening Dima called. “She’s gone, Kat. About an hour ago.” “I’m sorry, Dima. I know this is so hard.” “She kept asking for you,” Dima lied, wanting peace between them. “She said: ‘I hope Katya will be happy.’” “Thank you, Dima… Come over tomorrow. We’ll have a little gathering. I’ll bake a pie.” “I will… Kat, do you regret not going?” Katya didn’t lie. “No, Dima. I don’t. Why be hypocritical? She never wanted to see me. Nor I, her.” A pause. “Maybe you’re right. Always the sensible one… See you tomorrow.” At the funeral, Katya stood in black a little apart. Dima took her shoulder. “You all right?” “I’m fine, Dima. Really.” “Look, I was sorting her flat and found an old box… It was full of photos. You’re in loads, all carefully clipped out, kept separate. Why, do you think?” Katya raised her brows, surprised. “I don’t know. Maybe she cared, just couldn’t show it? Or was scared loving you meant loving me less? Old folks… they’re odd.” “Maybe,” Katya shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter now.” They walked out together under one umbrella—tall Dima and delicate Katya. “Listen,” Dima said by the cars, “I’ll sell that place. Buy a bigger flat for us, little ones for the boys, and the rest… Let’s set up a fund. Or give it to a children’s hospital. Let that ‘grandma’s money’ do some good at last.” Katya smiled warmly for the first time in days. “You know, Dima… that would be the best revenge on Gran Claudia. The kindest revenge there is.” “Deal?” “Deal.” They drove away in different directions, Katya letting the city’s music wash over her as she finally felt a deep, settling calm. Maybe Dima was right. Let some of that money help a child. That would be fair.

Grannie always played favourites

And what about me, Gran? I remember my sister asking, almost under her breath.
Oh, Emily, youll do just fine. Look at you, good healthy cheeks on you.
Walnuts are for your mind and John needs to study. Hes a young man, the backbone of the family.
Now go on, dust the shelves a girl should get used to chores.

Em, are you serious? Shes not going to last. The doctors said days, possibly hours…

I was leaning in the kitchen doorway, rolling my car keys round my fingers, feeling absolutely wretched.

I am, John. Fancy a cuppa? She didnt even glance my way, busy slicing apples for her daughter. Sit down, Ill pop the kettle on.

Tea, Em? Really? I strode across the room. Shes just lying there, breathing through all those tubes…

She was asking for you this morning. Emily, she said, wheres my Emily? My heart nearly buckled. Are you not going to come?

For heavens sake, shes grandma. This is literally your last chance, dont you get it?

Emily carefully arranged the apple slices on a plate before turning to face me.

Shes your grandma, John. To her, youre Johnny her golden boy, the pride of the Taylor clan.
As for me… I never really existed in her world.

Do you honestly think I need this farewell?

What would I even say to her, John? Do I forgive her? Or is she supposed to ask my forgiveness?

Oh, dont be childish! I snapped, keys clattering on the table. Fine, she loved me more. Though so what?

She was old, set in her ways. But shes dying! Dont be so harsh.

Im not angry, John. I just dont feel anything for her. Go yourself. Hold her hand, sit with her. Shell value that a hundred times more than anything I can offer.

After all, youre her darling. Be her light till the end!

I stared a moment at my sister, then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

Emily took a breath, picked up the apple plate, and disappeared into the playroom.

***

In our family, things were always neatly divided. Mum and Dad loved us both, me and Emily, as equals.

The house was always full of noise, laughter, the smell of baking pies and talk of rambles in the countryside.

But Granny Margaret Mums mother had a temperament of her own.

Johnny, come here my lovely shed croon when we visited on weekends. See what Ive saved for you.

Freshly shelled walnuts, and a whole bag of Galaxy chocolates, straight from the tin!

Emily, who was seven then, would stand by, watching as Gran hunted in her old sideboard for the precious bag.

And what about me, Gran? shed ask, quietly.

Gran would shoot her a prickly glance.

Oh, Emily, youre sensible enough. Look at those rosy cheeks.
Walnuts are for learning. John needs all his wits; hes a lad, after all.

You can dust the shelves. Girls need to learn how to work.

Red-faced, Id quietly take my bag and slip out to the hall, while Emily fetched the dusters.

Truthfully, she never seemed upset. Odd as it sounds, little Emily just accepted it, the way you accept the rain: Granny loves John most. That’s that.

Usually I was right outside waiting for her.

Here, Id slip her half the chocs and a fistful of nuts. Just dont eat them in front of her or well both get an earful.

You need them more, shed smile at me. For your clever head.

Rubbish, Id grimace. Grans bonkers anyway. Go on, eat up quick.

Wed sit on the stairs up to the attic, munching our contraband. I always shared. Always.

Even when Gran would quietly press a fiver into my hand for ice cream, Id dash to Emily:

Ive got enough for two cones and some Panini stickers. Fancy it?

I was always her big brother, her crutch. Grans coldness never made her feel she missed out my fondness seemed to make up for it.

The years trickled on. Gran got old. When I was eighteen, she solemnly announced at a family meeting that she was leaving her other two-bedroom flat in the city centre to me.

The man of the family needs a place to call his own so he can bring a wife to his flat, not go borrowing corners.

Mum just sighed. She knew her mothers iron will, and didnt challenge her. That evening she came into Emilys room.

Darling, just so you know… Your Dad and I have talked. The money weve saved for a car and an extension well give it to you instead.
Thatll be your deposit for a place of your own. To keep things fair.

Mum, dont be silly Emily hugged her. John needs his own space, what with Carol and the wedding. I can manage in the halls for now.

No, love. It isnt right. Your grans made her choices, but were your parents. We cant favour one and forget the other. Please, take it.

But Emily wouldnt.

After the wedding I moved promptly to the flat Gran had handed me, and the old family home felt vast in my absence.

Emily moved into my old room, stacked it with her books and canvases, and for the first time savoured what it really meant to have love that was whole and undivided.

The inheritance changed nothing between us siblings. If anything, I felt a guilty twinge I couldnt shake.

Hey, you lot should come round, Id say when popping by Carols been baking. And Gran? You know what shes like. Yesterday she rang to check I hadnt wasted her legacy on your schemes.

And what did you tell her?

Told her I blew it all in Las Vegas, I grinned. She snorted, then grumbled, Thatll be Emilys influence, no doubt!

Naturally, Emily smiled. Its always my fault!

***

When Emily married David and had her little girl, sorting out somewhere to live became an urgent issue. Mum worked her magic once again.

Right, listen up, she said one Sunday. Our flats roomy enough, and Johns got his place from Gran. You two are scrimping in a rental.

Lets do this: Dad and I will downsize to a one-bedroom, and you can take a two-bed. John, you and Carol stay in the city flat. Emily, you and David move into the other.

Mum, its settled, I cut in. Im waiving any claim on our old family flat. I have Grans; its more than enough for us.

Emily and David need more. Theyve got their little one. Thats fair.

Mate, are you sure? David looked genuinely startled. Thats a tidy sum youre turning your back on…

Sure as sure, I told him. Emily and I always split everything in half. She missed out enough over Gran. End of discussion. Thats my final word.

Emily started to cry not for the flat or the windfall, but because her big brother was exactly that: the best brother she could wish for.

In the end, everyone ended up with what they needed.

Mum visited often to help with her granddaughter; Carol and I came round on Sundays with our twin boys and plenty of noise.

But Granny Margaret lived alone. I popped round with bits of shopping, fixed leaks, listened to her murmurs about her health and that ungrateful Emily.

Has she ever called you, I ask? Has she even checked on me?

Gran, you made your choices, Id reply gently. You never once gave her a kind word. Why would she ring now?

I was trying to teach her! shed say, chin high. A woman has to know her place! But she… ended up with the flat and forced your mother out.

Id just sigh. No point arguing.

***

Emily sat at her kitchen table, memories crowding in.

Granny brushing her hand away from the jam jar; praising my clumsy watercolour while breezing by Emilys award for her maths competition.

She was the belle of my wedding but never turned up for Emilys, claiming illness.

Mum, why cant we visit Granny? her daughter asked, peeking into the kitchen. Uncle John says shes really poorly.

Because Granny Margaret only wants to see Uncle John, love, Emily stroked her hair. Thats just the way she feels.

Is she mean? her daughter frowned.

Not mean, Emily mused. Just… she never knew how to love everyone at once. Her heart only ever made room for one. Sometimes its like that.

That evening I called again.

Shes gone, Em. Just an hour ago.

Im sorry, John. It must be the hardest for you.

She waited for you, you know, I lied, out of pure good will, hoping to ease one final rift. She said, Hope Emilys alright.

Thank you, John… Come over tomorrow. Well have tea, Ill bake a pie.

Ill be there… Em, do you regret it? Not saying goodbye?

She told the truth.

No. Theres no point pretending. She never wanted to see me, nor I her…

I paused for a bit.

Maybe youre right, I admitted at last. Youve always been the wise one. See you tomorrow.

The funeral was quiet. Emily was there, for Mums sake and mine. She stood a little off to the side in her dark coat, watching the slate-grey sky that always seems to settle over graveyards at times like these. When the coffin was lowered, she didnt shed a tear.

I went over and put an arm round her shoulders.

Howre you doing?

Honestly? Im fine.

You know, I hesitated, I found an old tin in her flat. Full of photos.

Yours too. Lots of them. Snipped out from all our family pictures. Shed kept them separately.

Emily raised an eyebrow, genuinely baffled.

Why?

I dont know. Maybe, deep down, she cared but didnt know how to show it? Or maybe she was worried that showing you love would mean less for me. Old people can be strange.

Perhaps, Emily shrugged. None of it matters now.

We walked out of the cemetery under one umbrella me and my little sister.

Listen, I said as we got to the cars. Im selling Grans flat. Ill buy us a bigger place, set something aside for our lads, and the rest… shall we put it towards a childrens hospital? Or some charity? Let those Grans pounds finally bring someone some simply joy.

For the first time in weeks, Emily smiled like her old self.

That would be the sweetest revenge for Margaret Taylor. The kindness she never quite managed given away for free.

Deal, then?

Deal.

We parted, heading opposite ways. As Emily drove home, listening to her favourite radio show, she felt a peace settle deep in her bones, for the first time in years.

Maybe I was right. Its only fair that some of those pounds help a child who truly needs them. Thats how it should be.

Looking back, if theres one thing this all taught me, its that you dont measure family in inheritances or old grudges, but the little, everyday kindnesses you choose and the ones you pass along.