“Your granddaughter’s here,” the voice announced.
“Your mum’s come to pick you upget your things.”
They say every kid in care dreams of hearing those words. But Lucy flinched as if shed been slapped.
“Come on, hurry upwhy are you just sitting there?”
Miss Eleanor stared at her, baffled. Life in a childrens home wasnt exactly a picnic. Plenty of kids had run off to the streets just to escape. And here was Lucy, being handed back her own family, and she looked about as thrilled as someone told theyd won a free trip to the dentist.
“I dont want to go,” Lucy muttered, turning towards the window. Her mate, Daisy, shot her a look but stayed quiet. She didnt get it either. If it were her, shed be over the moon. Not that anyone was lining up to take *her* home.
“Lucy, love, whats the matter?” Miss Eleanor pressed. “Your mums waiting.”
“I dont want to see her. I dont want to go back.”
The other girls had pricked up their ears, and Miss Eleanor decided this wasnt exactly PG-rated conversation.
“Come with me.”
She led Lucy into a quiet office and gave her a sympathetic look.
“Your mums made mistakes, sure. But shes trying to do better. They wouldnt let her take you otherwise.”
“You think this is her first rodeo?” Lucy snorted, shaking her head. “This is my *second* stint in care. Last time, she played the perfect reformed parenthid the bottles, cleaned the flat, stocked the fridge, even got a job. When social services checked, it looked like something off a telly advert. Then they gave me back, and she dropped the act. She only wants me for the benefits.”
“Lucy, I cant change that. And homes still well, its *home*,” Miss Eleanor said weakly.
“Home?! Ever gone to school in trainers full of holes when its freezing? Ever had to lock yourself in your room praying your mums drunk mates dont barge in? Why cant social services just *take* me off her for good?”
Tears welled in Lucys eyes. The home wasnt paradise, but at least she knew shed get fed and clothed. And that she was safe. Home was a different story.
“I cant help you,” the carer sighed.
She really did feel for the girl. Lucy was sharptoo sharp for a care home kid. Maybe her mum had been clever once too, before the drink got her. And yet, after seven years in the job, Miss Eleanor had never met a child who *didnt* want to go home.
“Cant I just live on my own?” Lucy asked. “Id get a job, rent a room”
“Not till youre eighteen,” Miss Eleanor said, shaking her head.
“Im nearly sixteen! Im *practically* an adult!”
Miss Eleanor privately agreedLucy was far too grown-up for her age. But her hands were tied.
“You need a proper guardian. Is there *anyone* else? Someone who could take custody?”
“Theres no one. My nan was alright, but shes gone now. Its just *her*.”
“What about your dad?”
“Dead. Drunk himself to death.”
Lucy said it so casually, like it barely mattered. Then again, in her world, maybe it didnt.
“Any relatives on his side?”
Lucy frowned. “Think he had a mum, but Ive never met her. She cut him off. Cant blame herI wouldve too.”
“Right,” Miss Eleanor leaned in. “Heres the plan: you try living with your mum again, and Ill look into your nan. Deal?”
Lucy nodded. What choice did she have?
Of course, her mum put on a show. Cried, begged forgiveness, hugged her like shed been lost at sea.
Lucy didnt react. She knew the act would drop the second they got home.
And it did. Day one, her mum held it together. Day two, she came back from the shop with a bottle.
Back to square one. Drunk, jobless, hopeless.
Then, one night, some bloke stumbled into Lucys room. She barely fought him off. That was itshed had enough.
Luckily, Miss Eleanor had given her her number. Lucy called. Said shed either live on the streets or come back to care.
“I found your nan,” Miss Eleanor said. “Ill talk to her. If she agreesand if her place checks outshe could take you.”
Lucy begged to come along. She didnt know the woman, but she hoped she wouldnt slam the door in her face. Just two more years, and shed be free.
The door opened to a woman in her sixtiestall, elegant.
“Can I help you?”
“Antonia Margaret?” Miss Eleanor asked.
“Thats me.”
“Im your granddaughter,” Lucy blurted. No point beating around the bush.
“Come again?”
“Im your sons daughter.”
“Right. And what do you want?” Antonia Margarets voice was ice.
“Could we talk?” Miss Eleanor cut in before Lucy could put her foot in it again.
“Fine. But make it quickIve got work.”
Tea was poured. Antonia Margaret kept glancing at Lucy like shed just beamed down from Mars.
Miss Eleanor explained the situation.
“Your granddaughter will likely go back into care. But you could take guardianship.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Well shes family.”
“I dont know her. And frankly, Ive no interest in starting now. My son put me through hell. Id rather forget he existed.”
“PleaseLucys living in awful conditions. You could”
Lucy cut her off.
“Look, you dont know me, I dont know you. And honestly? Id love to forget my parents too. But the law says Im stuck being a kid. All I need is paperwork and a roof till Im eighteen. Ill buy my own food, get a job. The money youd get for fostering? Keep it. I just need *out*.”
Miss Eleanor shot her a warning look. But Antonia Margaret seemed impressed.
“Always said drunks breed idiots. Youre clearly the exception. Sotwo years, then you vanish?”
“Promise.”
“Fine. Rules: dont call me Nan, dont touch my things, no friends over. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
Miss Eleanor pulled strings. Social services visited Lucys mum againthis time, they took it to court. Antonia Margaret signed the papers.
Lucy played it tough, but she was terrified. Two months left of school, no money. What if her nan *actually* let her starve?
But that first night, Antonia Margaret called her to the table. Lucy hadnt eaten a proper home-cooked meal in years. Her mum could barely boil pasta, and Lucy had never learned. Hard to cook when the fridge was always empty.
The next day, Antonia Margaret eyed Lucys wrecked trainers and sighed.
“Meet me after school. Were getting you decent clothes.”
“Ive got no money,” Lucy mumbled.
“Payday for me. Better than you embarrassing me in rags.”
Lucy didnt argue.
Antonia Margaret bought her *everything*. Lucy was stunnedshe even asked her opinion, as if she had a say.
A week later, Antonia Margaret beckoned her over.
“Hows school?”
“Alright.”
“Let me see your grades.”
“Its all online now,” Lucy said, smirking.
“Good grief. Since when is paper extinct? Fineshow me the digital ones.”
Lucy wasnt ashamed. Shed worked hard. Early on, shed realised no one would hand her a future.
“Impressive,” Antonia Margaret said. Lucy blinkedwas that *praise*? “With marks like these, youre staying for sixth form. Then university.”
“Right. Because *normal* kids have parents who pay for that.”
“Listen,” Antonia Margaret cleared her throat. “Youre staying for sixth form. Youll live here. Till uni. Understood?”
“Understood”
Lucy could hardly believe it. Shed *wanted* to stay in educationjust never had the chance.
Slowly, the walls between them crumbled. Antonia Margaret asked about Lucys lifeeven, sometimes, about her son. But only in passing, like she was ashamed to care.
Lucy aced her A-levels, got into uni. Antonia Margaret even hired tutors to polish off the rough edges.
That summer, Lucy got a job. Shed been granted student housing, but shed need cash to live. Their deal was clearshed leave after school.
Then, late August
