Id been my sons free babysitter and cook for yearsuntil they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nan, hi! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law Katies voice chirped through the phone with forced cheerfulness.
I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. Interrupting? I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Go on, Katie.”
“Weve got newsits huge! Leo and I booked a last-minute holiday to Spain, all-inclusive for two weeks! Can you believe it?”
I could. Sun, sea, Leo and Katie. And somewhere off-cameratheir five-year-old son, Max. My grandson.
“Thats wonderful. Really happy for you,” I said flatly, like reading a medicine leaflet.
“Great! So youll take Max, yeah? He cant go to nursery right nowtheres chickenpox going round. Oh, and hes got swimming lessons, cant miss those. And his speech therapists booked for next weekIll send you the schedule.”
She spoke fast, not letting me get a word in, as if afraid Id refuse. I never refused.
“Katie, I was thinking of going to the cottage for a few days while the weathers nice”
“The cottage?” Her voice dripped with disbelief, as if Id said I was flying to Mars. “Nan, seriously? Max needs you, and youre talking about gardening? Were not just swanning offwere going for our health! Sea air, vitamins!”
I stared out the window at the drizzly grey street. My sea air. My vitamins.
“Oh, and” she barrelled on, “the cat food deliverys coming Wednesday. Premium stuff, twelve kilos. The courierll be here between ten and six, so stay in, yeah? And water the plants, especially the orchid. Shes fussy.”
She listed my duties like they were obvious. I wasnt a personI was a function. A free, convenient app for their comfortable life.
“Fine, Katie. Of course.”
“Brilliant! Knew we could count on you!” She trilled like shed done me a favour. “Right, kisses, gotta pack!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My eyes landed on the wall calendar. A red circle marked next Saturdaya reunion with friends I hadnt seen in nearly a year.
I grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the mark away. Like erasing another tiny piece of my unlived life.
No anger, no hurt. Just sticky, swallowing emptiness and one quiet, clear question: When would they realise I wasnt just a free app, but a living person?
Probably only when they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
They dropped Max off the next day. Leo lugged in a massive suitcase, a swim bag, and three totes of toys, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, weve got to dashflights soon,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Katie fluttered in behind him, already in holiday modefloral dress, floppy hat. She scanned my modest flat with a quick, appraising look.
“Nan, dont let Max binge on cartoons, okay? Read to him. And go easy on sweetshes a nightmare when hes sugared up.” She thrust a folded sheet at me. “Heres the routinemeals, therapist numbers, allergies. Everything.”
She spoke like Id never met my own grandson. Like I hadnt cared for him since birth while they built their careers.
“Katie, I know what he likes,” I said softly.
“Knowings one thing, his diets another,” she snapped. “Right, Max, be good for Nanny! Well bring you a big, big jeep!”
They left, trailing expensive perfume and a draft of cold air.
Max, realising hed been left, wailed. The first three days were a marathon. Swimming lessons across town, speech therapy on the other side. Tantrums, midnight tears, endless “I want Mummy.” I was wrecked.
On day four, I dared to call Leo. Theyd just checked into their hotel.
“Mum? Whats wrong? Is Max okay?” His voice was tense.
“Max is fine. Leo, I need to talk Im struggling. This pace is too much. Could you hire a part-time nanny? Ill pay half.”
Silence. Then a heavy sigh.
“Mum, dont start, yeah? We just got here. Katies been stressed enough. A nanny? Whod we trust? Youre his nan. This should be a joy for you.”
“Leo, joy doesnt cancel exhaustion. Im not getting younger.”
“Youre just out of practice,” he soothed, firm. “Youll adjust. Lets not ruin each others holiday. We hardly ever get away. Mum, gotta goKaties calling.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not anger.
Just cold, clear understanding. To him, I wasnt his mum who might struggle. I was a resource. Reliable, tested, andcruciallyfree.
Wednesday, as promised, the cat food arrived. The courier dumped the twelve-kilo sack on the doorstep and muttered about “doorstep delivery” before leaving.
I spent ten minutes wrestling it inside, wrenching my back. When I finally managed, I sat on the floor beside the fishy-smelling sack and laughed. A silent, hollow laugh.
That evening, Katie called. Sea and music in the background.
“Nan, hi! Hows it going? Did you water my orchid? Only with filtered water, right? And at the roots, not the leaves!”
She didnt ask about Max. Didnt ask about me. Her orchid mattered.
“Of course, Katie. All under control,” I said, eyeing the damned cat food.
That night, I barely slept. Not thinking of the cottage or my missed reunion. I opened my wardrobe, pulled out my old savings book and passport. Just stared at them, tracing the covers with my fingers.
The thought that had flickered days ago wasnt just fantasy anymore. It had shape. A plan.
The breaking point came on day ten of their “holiday.” The phone rang post-lunch, just as Id got Max down for a nap. Leo again.
“Mum, hi! Hows our champ?”
“Asleep,” I said shortly.
“Listen, thing is” He hesitated, and I knewa favour was coming. “This place is paradise. The hotels offering a discount if we stay another week. Can you believe our luck?”
I stayed quiet. I knew what was next.
“Anyway, were staying. But were a bit short” His voice turned wheedlingthe tone I hated. “Mum, could you?”
“Spit it out, Leo.”
“Right, Katie rememberedDads sapphire earrings. You never wear them anyway. Could you pawn them? Theyll cover it. Well buy them back straight after, swear!”
Katies voice cut in: “Leo, stop dithering! Nan, theyre just things! Let us have this!”
Just things. My memories. My family. My life. Just things to hock for their “living the dream.”
Something in me froze solid. Not shatteredjust turned to ice, sharp and clear.
The emptiness filled with cold, ringing certainty.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand should do it. Just photograph the pawn ticket so we know what to pay back.”
“Of course, Leo. Dont worry. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up. Peeked into Maxs roomhe was asleep, lips smacking faintly. My sweet boy, who no one but me truly noticed.
The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt keep living like this.
I texted Leo: “Not pawning the earrings. Your holiday ends in four days, per your tickets. If youre not back by Sunday, Im calling social services on Monday. No discussion.”
The reply came instantly: “Are you THREATENING us?!”
I didnt answer. I opened the airline site and booked a ticket. Malaga. One-way. Departing Tuesday.
They returned Sunday evening. Didnt arrivestormed in. Tanned, frazzled, furious.
“Happy now?” Katie snarled from the doorway. “Ruined the best holiday of our lives! Manipulative cow!”
Leo wordlessly marched to the living room, where Max was building with blocks. The boy lunged into his arms.
I stepped out from the kitchen, holding my passport with the ticket tucked inside. Calm, utterly calm.
“Glad youre back for your son,” I said quietly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five
