The social workers voice was firm but tired.
*”Your mums come for you. Pack your things.”*
They say every kid in care dreams of hearing those words. But Emily flinched as if struck.
*”Come on, hurry up. Why are you just sitting there?”*
Mrs. Wilson frowned, baffled by the girls lack of joy. Life in the childrens home wasnt exactly a holidaysome kids even ran away just to sleep rough. And here was Emily, being taken back to her own home, and she looked like shed been handed a death sentence.
*”I dont want to go,”* Emily muttered, turning toward the window. Her best mate, Sophie, shot her a look but stayed silent. She didnt get it either. Sophie wouldve given anything to go homeif anyone had wanted her there.
*”Emily, whats wrong?”* Mrs. Wilson pressed. *”Your mums waiting for you.”*
*”I dont want to see her. I dont want to go back.”*
The other girls had stopped pretending not to listen. Mrs. Wilson sighed and gestured for Emily to follow.
*”Lets talk in private.”*
Inside the office, the social worker studied the girl with a mix of pity and frustration.
*”Your mums made mistakes, sure. But shes trying. They wouldnt let her take you if she wasnt.”*
*”You think this is the first time?”* Emily scoffed. *”Ive been in care twice. Last time she took me back, she hid the bottles, cleaned the flat, even got a job. Played the part perfectly when the inspectors came. Then they handed me over, and she went right back to it. She only wants me for the benefits.”*
*”Emily, I cant change that. But surely home is better than”*
*”Better?!”* Emilys voice cracked. *”You ever gone to school in shoes full of holes when its freezing? Ever hidden in your room praying the men she brings home dont notice you? Why wont they just take her rights away already?”*
Tears welled up, hot and furious. The home wasnt perfect, but at least she knew shed be fed. Safe.
*”I cant help you,”* Mrs. Wilson admitted quietly.
It killed her to say it. Emily was sharp, too sharp for a kid whod grown up like this. Her mother mightve been someone once, before the drink took over. Seven years in this job, and Mrs. Wilson had never met a child who *didnt* want to go home.
*”What if I lived on my own?”* Emilys voice was desperate. *”I could work. Rent a room.”*
*”Not till youre eighteen.”*
*”Im nearly sixteen! Im not a kid!”*
Mrs. Wilson knew it was true. But the law didnt care.
*”You need a guardian. Is there anyone else? Someone who could petition for custody?”*
Emilys laugh was hollow. *”Grandmas dead. Dads dead. Drank himself to death.”*
She said it like it was nothing. Maybe to her, it was.
*”No other family?”*
Emily hesitated. *”Dads mum might be alive. Never met her. She cut him off years ago.”*
Mrs. Wilson leaned forward. *”Look, try living with your mum for now. Ill track down your grandmother. Deal?”*
Emily nodded. What choice did she have?
Her mothers performance was Oscar-worthysobbing, begging forgiveness, clinging to her like a lost treasure. Emily stood stiff, unmoved. She knew the act would drop the second they walked through the door.
And it did.
Day one, her mum pretended. Day two, she came home with vodka.
Emilys life became hell again. When a drunk stranger stumbled into her room one night, she barely fought him off. That was it.
She called Mrs. Wilson.
*”I found your grandmother,”* the woman said. *”Ill talk to her. If she agrees, she can take custody.”*
Emily insisted on going. She didnt know the woman, but anything was better than this.
The door opened to a tall, elegant woman in her sixties.
*”What do you want?”*
*”Margaret Thompson?”* Mrs. Wilson asked.
*”Yes.”*
*”Im your granddaughter,”* Emily blurted.
Margarets expression didnt flicker. *”And?”*
Mrs. Wilson stepped in. *”May we talk?”*
Over tea, the social worker laid it all out. Margarets gaze occasionally drifted to Emily, cold and assessing.
*”You could take custody,”* Mrs. Wilson urged.
*”Why would I?”*
*”Shes your family.”*
*”I dont know her.”* Margarets voice was ice. *”My son put me through enough. Id rather forget he existed.”*
Emily cut in. *”Look, I dont know you either. And I dont want anything from youjust a roof till Im eighteen. Ill buy my own food, my own clothes. The state moneys yours. I just need out.”*
Mrs. Wilson shot her a warning look. But Margarets lips twitched.
*”Not what I expected from an alcoholics kid. So, two years, then youre gone?”*
*”Promise.”*
*”Fine. Rules: dont call me Grandma, dont touch my things, dont bring friends here. Clear?”*
*”Crystal.”*
The court stripped Emilys mother of her rights. Margaret signed the papers.
Emily played tough, but fear gnawed at her. Two months of school left, no moneywhat if Margaret meant it about not feeding her?
But that first night, Margaret called her to the table.
Emily hadnt eaten a proper home-cooked meal in years.
The next day, Margaret took one look at her ruined trainers and sighed.
*”After school, were buying you decent clothes.”*
*”I cant pay”*
*”Ill cover it. Rather that than the shame of you looking like that.”*
Margaret bought her everythingeven asked her opinion.
A week later, Margaret scrutinised Emilys grades.
*”With marks like these, youre staying for sixth form. Then university.”*
*”Thats for kids with parents who can afford it.”*
Margaret exhaled sharply. *”Youll stay with me. Till you graduate. Understood?”*
Emilys throat tightened. *”Understood.”*
Slowly, the walls between them crumbled. Margaret asked about her life, evenbrieflyabout her son.
Emily aced her A-levels. Got into uni. Margaret even hired tutors.
When summer came, Emily found a job. Shed move into halls, just like theyd agreed.
Then Margaret collapsed. A heart attack.
Emily found her on the floor, pale and still. For one terrible moment, she thought she was dead.
At the hospital, she burst into the ward.
*”Grandma”* She caught herself. *”Margaret. How are you?”*
The woman smiled weakly, reaching to touch Emilys hair.
*”Call me Grandma. It suits you. Ill be fine. Just need time.”*
*”Ill look after you. However long it takes.”*
*”I wont be a burden.”*
*”You took me in when you didnt have to. Gave me more than my own mother ever did. Youre stuck with me now.”*
Margarets eyes glistened.
*”Fine. One condition.”*
*”What?”*
*”No student halls. Youll live with me.”*
Emily hugged her tight. Shed wanted to for years.
*”Deal.”*
