**Diary Entry, 12th October**
I was the familys free nanny and cook until they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nina, hello! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law, Kates voice chirped down the phone, feigning cheerfulness.
I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. No, she wasnt interrupting. I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Go on, Kate.”
“Weve got newsits massive! Leo and I booked a last-minute holiday to Spain! Two weeks, all-inclusive! Can you believe it?”
I could. Sun, sea, Leo and Kate. And somewhere off-screentheir five-year-old son, Alfie. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im thrilled for you,” I said flatly, like reading a medicine leaflet.
“Oh! And youll take Alfie, wont you? Nurserys offtheres another chickenpox outbreak.”
Then theres his swimming lessonscant miss those. And the speech therapist next TuesdayIll send you the schedule.
She spoke quickly, not letting me interject, as if afraid Id refuse. Though I never did.
“Kate, I was planning to visit the cottage for a few days while the weather holds” I began, already doubting my own weak protest.
“The *cottage*?” She laughed, as if Id announced a trip to Mars. “*Mum*, come on! Alfie needs you. Were not just swanning offits for our *health*. Sea air, vitamin D!”
I stared at the grey courtyard outside. *My* sea air. *My* vitamins.
“Oh, and” she barrelled on, “the premium cat foods being delivered Wednesday. Twelve kilos. Couriers between ten and six, so be home, yeah? And water my orchidsespecially the finicky one.”
She listed my duties like they were obvious. I wasnt a personjust a function. A convenient, free app for their comfort.
“Fine, Kate. Of course.”
“Brilliant! Knew we could count on you!” She trilled as if granting me a great favour. “Right, kisses! Off to pack!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My eyes fell on the wall calendarnext Saturday circled in red. A reunion with friends I hadnt seen in nearly a year.
I took a damp cloth and wiped the mark away, erasing another tiny piece of my unlived life.
No anger, no resentmentjust a thick, hollow emptiness and one quiet question: *When will they realise Im not just a free service, but a human being?*
Perhaps only when they see me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
—
Alfie arrived the next day. Leo hauled in an oversized suitcase, a swim bag, and three carrier bags of toys, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, weve got to dashflights soon,” he muttered, dumping the case in the hall.
Kate fluttered in after him, already in holiday modefloral dress, floppy hat. She scanned my modest flat with a quick, appraising glance.
“Nina, dont let Alfie binge on tellyread to him instead. And go easy on sweets, yeah? Hes a nightmare when hes sugared up.”
She thrust a neatly folded list at me. “Schedule, mealtimes, therapist numbers. Everythings there.”
As if I hadnt cared for Alfie since he was born. As if I hadnt put *my* life on hold while they built theirs.
“Kate, I know what he likes,” I said softly.
“Knowings one thing, diets another,” she snapped. “Right, Alfie-love, be good for Granny! Well bring you back a *massive* toy car!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and cold air.
Alfie, realising hed been abandoned, sobbed. The first three days were a blur of swimming lessons across town, speech therapy, tantrums, and endless *”I want Mummy!”* By day four, I was wrecked.
I called Leo as they checked into their hotel.
“Mum? Everything alright? Alfie okay?” His voice was tense.
“Alfies fine. Leo, I wanted to talk Im struggling. The routines too much. Could you hire a temp nanny for a few hours? Ill pay half.”
Silence. Then a heavy sigh.
“Mum, *really*? We *just* got here. Kates been stressed enough. A *nanny*? Whod we even trust? Youre his *grandmother*. This should be *joyful* for you.”
“Joy doesnt cancel exhaustion, Leo. Im not getting younger.”
“Youll adjust,” he said firmly. “Lets not ruin the trip, yeah? We barely ever do this. Mum, gotta goKates calling.”
The line died. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not angerjust cold, clear understanding.
To him, I wasnt *Mum* who might need help. I was a *resource*. Reliable, tested, andcruciallyfree.
—
On Wednesday, the cat food arrived. The courier dumped the 12-kilo sack on the doorstep and left with a grunt about “doorstep delivery.” I strained my back dragging it inside, then sat on the floor beside it and laugheda silent, hollow laugh.
That evening, Kate called, sea waves and music in the background.
“Nina, hi! You watered my orchid, yeah? *Only* filtered water, remember? And at the *roots*, not the leaves!”
No asking after Alfie. No asking after *me*. Just the orchid.
“I remember, Kate. Everythings 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 the cupboard, took out my old savings book and passport, tracing the covers with my fingers.
The idea that had flickered in my mind now took shape. A plan.
—
On day ten, Leo called. Alfie had just napped.
“Mum, hi! Hows our little champ?”
“Asleep,” I said tersely.
“Listen, somethings come up” He hesitated. I knew what was coming. “We love it hereproper paradise. The hotels offering a discount if we stay another week. Mum, could you?”
I waited.
“Thing is, were a bit short” His voice turned wheedling. “Youve got Dads sapphire earrings, yeah? You never wear them.”
“What are you asking, Leo?” My voice was eerily calm.
“Pawn them?” he blurted. “Just temporary! Well buy them back*promise*! Whats the point of them gathering dust? This is about *making memories*!”
In the background, Kate snapped, “*Leo, stop waffling! Nina, theyre just* things! *We deserve a proper holiday!*”
*Just things*. My memories. My family. My life. Pawned for *their* memories.
Something inside me frozenot shattered, just crystallised into icy resolve.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand should cover it. Youre the *best*, Mum!”
“Of course, Leo. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up, opened Alfies door. He slept, lips smacking softly. My sweet, neglected boy.
The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt go on like this either.
I texted Leo: *”I wont sell the earrings. Your holiday ends Sunday as booked. If youre not back, Im contacting social services on Monday. No discussion.”*
The reply was instant: *”Are you THREATENING us?!”*
I didnt answer. I booked a flight. Malaga. One-way. Leaving Tuesday.
—
They returned Sunday eveningnot arriving, but *storming* in. Sunburnt, bristling, furious.
“Happy now?!” Kate shrieked. “You ruined our dream holiday! Manipulative cow!”
Leo wordlessly went to Alfie, who leapt into his arms.
I stepped out, holding my passport and ticket. Inside, I was perfectly calm.
“Im glad you came back for your son,” I said softly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five *years*, Leo. Five years Ive lived as your shadow. Picking Alfie up when Kate was busy with manicures. Staying up with him when he teethed so *you* could sleep. Cancelling plans, missing *my* lifeall because *Mum, we need help.*
“Ive spent more time with your son than *both* of you combined. I was your free service.”
I
