**Diary Entry**
I was the unpaid nanny and cook for my sons familyuntil they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nina, hello! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law, Emilys voice was falsely bright over the phone.
I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. No, she wasnt interrupting. I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Go on, Emily.”
“Weve got newsits huge! Jack and I booked flights to Spain for two weeks! All-inclusive, can you believe it? Last-minute deal!”
I could imagine it. Sun, sea, Jack and Emily. And somewhere out of frametheir five-year-old son, Oliver. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im thrilled for you,” I said flatly, like reading a medicine label.
“Which is whyyoull take Ollie, right? He cant go to nursery now with that chickenpox outbreak. Oh, and swimming lessonshe cant miss those. And theres speech therapy next week, Ill text you the schedule.”
She spoke fast, not letting me get a word in, as if afraid I might thinkand refuse. Though I never refused.
“Emily, I was thinking of going to the countryside for a few days while the weathers nice” I began, not believing my own weak attempt.
“The countryside?” Her voice held genuine disbelief, as if Id announced a trip to Mars. “Nina, seriously? Ollie needs you. This isnt just a holidayits for our health. Sea air, vitamins!”
I stared out at the grey courtyard. My sea air. My vitamins.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Emily continued. “The cat food delivery arrives Wednesdaypremium stuff, twelve kilos. Couriers coming between ten and six, so be home, 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 convenient, free app for their comfort.
“Fine, Emily. Of course.”
“Brilliant! Knew we could count on you!” She chirped as if granting me a favour. “Right, kisses, gotta pack!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My eyes landed on the wall calendar. Next Saturday was circled in reda reunion with friends I hadnt seen in a year.
I took a damp cloth and wiped the mark awayerasing another tiny piece of my unlived life.
No anger, no bitternessjust a sticky, all-consuming emptiness and a quiet question: When will they notice Im not an app, but a person?
Probably only when they see me at Heathrow with a one-way ticket.
Ollie arrived the next day. Jack lugged in an enormous suitcase, a swim bag, and three toy-filled carriers, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, were in a rushgotta get to the airport,” he said, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Emily fluttered in behind him, already in holiday modefloral dress, straw hat. She scanned my modest flat with a quick, assessing glance.
“Nina, dont let Ollie watch too much telly, read to him instead. And go easy on sweetshe turns wild.” She handed me a neatly folded list. “Schedule, contactsspeech therapist, swim coach, allergist. And his meal plan for each day.”
She spoke as if Id never met my own grandson. As if I hadnt cared for him since birth while they built careers.
“Emily, I know what he likes,” I said quietly.
“Knowing isnt the same as diet,” she snapped. “Right, Ollie, be good for Granny! Well bring you a big lorry!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and a lingering draft.
Oliver, realising hed been left, cried for three days straight. The routine was brutalswim lessons across town, speech therapy elsewhere. Whining, night tears, endless “I want Mummy.” I was exhausted.
On day four, I called Jack. Theyd just checked into the hotel.
“Mum? Whats wrong? Is Ollie okay?”
“Hes fine. Jack, I need to talkthis is too much. Could you hire a part-time nanny? Ill pay half.”
Silence. Then a sigh.
“Mum, dont start. We just got here. Emilys stressed enough. Whod we trust with Ollie? Youre his grandmotherthis should be a joy.”
“Joy doesnt cancel fatigue. Im not getting younger.”
“Youre just out of practice,” he said firmly. “Youll adjust. Lets not ruin this. We barely ever get away. Mum, gotta goEmilys calling.”
The line clicked. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardeningnot anger, but cold clarity. To him, I wasnt a mother who might struggle. I was a resource. Reliable, tested, andabove allfree.
On Wednesday, the courier arrived with twelve kilos of cat food. The young man dumped the sack on the doorstep and muttered about “doorstep delivery.”
It took me ten minutes to drag it inside, straining my back. When I finally managed, I sat beside the fishy-smelling bag and laugheda silent, hollow laugh.
That evening, Emily called. Waves and music in the background.
“Nina! Did you water my orchid? Only filtered water, remember? Not the leavesthe roots!”
She didnt ask about Ollie. Or me. Just the plant.
“I remember, Emily. Its handled,” I said, eyeing the damned cat food.
That night, I barely slept. I didnt think about the countryside or my friends. I opened the wardrobe, took out my old savings book and passport, tracing the covers with my fingers.
The thought that had flickered days ago was no longer fantasy. It had shape. A plan.
The call came on day ten of their “break.” Jacks voice was eager.
“Mum! Hows our champ?”
“Asleep,” I said shortly.
“Listen, weve had the most amazing timethe hotel offered a discount to extend another week!”
I stayed silent. I knew what was coming.
“Thing is, were a bit short Mum, could you?” His voice turned wheedling. “Emily remembered Dads sapphire cufflinks. You never wear them.”
“What exactly do you want, Jack?” My voice was eerily calm.
“Pop them into the pawnshop, yeah?” he blurted. “Well buy them back straight after! Swear! Theyre just sitting there!”
Emily chimed in: “Jack, stop dithering! Nina, theyre just things! We deserve a proper holiday!”
Just things. My memories. My family. My lifesomething to pawn for their “proper holiday.”
Something inside me froze. Not brokejust sharpened into icy resolve.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand should cover it. Just photo the receipt so we know what to pay back.”
“Of course, Jack. Enjoy yourselves.”
I hung up. Peeked into Ollies roomasleep, lips smacking softly. My sweet, unwanted boy.
The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt keep living like this.
I texted Jack: “I wont pawn the cufflinks. Your holiday ends in four days, per your tickets. If youre not back by Sunday, Im contacting social services on Monday. No discussion.”
The reply was instant: “Are you THREATENING us?”
I didnt answer. I opened the airline site and booked a ticket. Malaga. Next Tuesday. No return date.
They stormed in on Sunday eveningtanned, irritable, furious.
“Happy now?” Emily spat. “You ruined our best holiday ever! Manipulative cow!”
Jack wordlessly went to Ollie, who clung to him.
I walked out with my passport and ticket. Inside, I was perfectly calm.
“Im glad youre back for your son,” I said softly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five years, Jack. Five years Ive been your shadow.”
I picked Ollie up when Emily was busy with manicures. I stayed up with him teething so you could sleep. I cancelled dozens of plans because “Mum, we need help.”
Ive spent more time with your son than you both combined. I was your free function.
I turned to Emily.
“Not once did you ask how I was. But you never forgot your orchid. You assumed this would last forever. That Id never leave.”
I laid the passport and ticket on the table.
“You were wrong. I love Ollie. Thats why I waitedwhy I didnt make your lives hell. But my role here is done. I want to see the sea too.”
Jack picked up the ticket, eyes widening.
