“Mum, maybe we should let Gran wander off and get lost? It’d be better for everyone,” said Emily defiantly.
“Em, don’t forget to lock the door,” Mum sighed wearily, pushing back from the table.
“Mum, how many times? Are you going to remind me for the rest of my life?” Emily huffed, crossing her arms.
“Not the rest of my life—just while Gran’s living with us. If she goes out, she’ll get lost and—”
“And die in a ditch somewhere while we drown in guilt… Mum, maybe that’s for the best?” Emily’s voice was sharp, testing.
“What’s for the best?” Mum frowned.
“Let her walk off. You said yourself you’re sick of looking after her.”
“How can you say that? She’s my mother-in-law—not even blood to me—but she’s your grandmother!”
“My grandmother?” Emily narrowed her eyes, her temper flaring. “Where was she when her precious son walked out on us? When she refused to babysit me—her own granddaughter? She never cared about you working yourself to the bone, scraping together every spare pound. She even blamed YOU when Dad left!”
“Stop it!” Mum snapped, voice cracking. “I never should’ve told you any of this. I’ve raised you wrong if you’ve no mercy in you, not even for family. It terrifies me. If this is how you treat Gran, what’ll happen when I’m old? What’s happened to you? You used to be so kind—bringing home every stray kitten or puppy you found. But Gran’s not a stray…” Mum shook her head, exhausted. “She’s already paying for it. Your father abandoned her too.”
“Mum, go to work, you’ll be late. I promise I’ll lock the door,” Emily muttered, guilt flickering in her eyes.
“Fine. Before we say things we regret.” But Mum didn’t move.
“Mum, I’m sorry—but it hurts to look at you. Skin and bones. You’re only forty, but you walk like an old woman, dragging your feet. Always worn out. Why are you staring at me like that? Who’ll tell you the truth if not me?” Emily hadn’t realised she’d raised her voice again.
“Thanks for that. Just make sure she doesn’t touch the gas or leave the taps on.”
“See? That’s what I mean—we’re tied down because of her. No life at all. Mum, let’s put her in a care home. She’d have round-the-clock help. She doesn’t even understand—”
“Enough!” Mum cut her off.
“It’d be better for everyone—her most of all,” Emily pressed, ignoring Mum’s rising anger.
“I won’t hear another word. I’m not sending her away. How long does she have left? Let her stay at home.”
“She’ll outlive YOU at this rate. Just go. I won’t leave. I’ll lock the door, I swear,” Emily bit out.
“I’m sorry. I’ve burdened you… All your friends are out having fun, and you’re stuck watching Gran.”
They hadn’t noticed Gran’s door was ajar. She’d heard it all—though she probably wouldn’t remember a word of it in five minutes.
Mum left for work, and Emily stepped into her old bedroom, now Gran’s.
“Gran, d’you want anything?”
Gran’s blank stare gave no answer.
“Come on, I’ll give you a sweet.” Emily helped her up and guided her to the kitchen.
“Who are you?” Gran blinked at her, empty-eyed.
“Drink your tea.” Emily sighed, setting a chocolate beside the cup.
Gran had a sweet tooth. She and Mum hid the sweets, rationing them—one with tea, no more. Emily watched as Gran fumbled with the wrapper. Through thin grey hair, pale scalp showed. Emily looked away.
Once, Gran had dyed and teased her hair into grand bouffants, painted her lips scarlet, arched her brows. Emily remembered her sugary perfume, how men used to turn their heads. Until her mind started slipping.
Emily couldn’t untangle her own feelings—pity, resentment, sorrow? A sharp knock at the door cut through her thoughts.
“Mum must’ve forgotten something.” She went to answer.
But it was Tom, her older boyfriend. Mum disapproved, so he only came over when she was out.
“Hi. You’re early—Mum just left,” Emily whispered.
“I know. She didn’t see me.”
“Margaret!” Gran’s voice carried from the kitchen.
“Who’s Margaret?” Tom asked.
“That’s what she calls Mum—thinks she’s her daughter. I’ll take her back to her room. Hide in the loo and be quiet. She’s having a ‘good day’ today.” Emily nudged him toward the bathroom.
But the kitchen was empty—just a used cup and wrapper on the table.
“I want tea,” Gran announced.
“But you just—” Emily gave up. Gran forgot everything—especially the last five minutes. Yet she remembered decades-old stories perfectly. Most days she didn’t recognise them. But sometimes, just for a moment, she’d seem almost lucid.
Emily couldn’t tell if Gran was pretending now—angling for another sweet—or if she’d genuinely forgotten the tea. Who could know? She poured another cup, set out another chocolate.
Gran struggled with the wrapper. When the tea was gone, Emily led her back, tucked her in.
“Sleep now,” she said, shutting the door.
Tom peered out from the bathroom.
“Coast clear?”
“Yeah. Kitchen.” Emily glanced at the door—locked—then followed him.
They sat head-to-head at the table, sharing earphones, music humming softly. Eyes closed, Emily swayed slightly to the beat. She didn’t notice Gran slip into the hall.
When she went to let Tom out, the front door stood open. She bolted to Gran’s room—empty.
“The door… I didn’t lock it. She’s gone. Mum’ll think I did it on purpose!” Emily’s voice wobbled.
“Why would she think that?” Tom frowned.
“You don’t get it! Today of all days, I said it’d be better if she got lost. Mum’ll think I left it open to spite her.”
“Alright, grab your coat. We’ll find her. She can’t have gone far,” Tom said.
Emily checked the hall—Gran’s quilted coat still hung there. Her boots too.
“Did she go out in slippers and a housecoat?” Emily stared at Tom, stunned.
“Maybe she’s with a neighbour? Got confused? I’ll check outside—you knock on doors,” Tom said, already sprinting downstairs.
No one answered on their floor. Emily gave up, rushing outside. Tom scoured the courtyard—behind bushes, under the slide—nothing.
“Let’s try the next streets. You go right, I’ll go left. Whoever finds her first calls. Meet back here,” Tom said, already running.
Emily checked the bus stop. No sign. How long had it been? Half an hour? Where could she go in slippers?
“We should call the police,” she said when they regrouped.
“Wait. Think—anywhere she talked about? Favourite places?” Tom panted.
Emily racked her brain. Nothing.
“Alright, wider search. You head toward the school, I’ll go the other way.”
Streetlights flickered unevenly. Emily hurried past dark patches, sure someone lurked in the shadows. Near the school, she remembered Gran’s old story—how she’d once forgotten a notebook, climbed out a window, nearly broke her ankle.
Gran hadn’t gone here, but she always told that tale passing by. Emily shoved the gate—unlocked. The school was a plain brick rectangle. Rounding the corner, she spotted a group of lads laughing at something.
Gran stood in the middle of the yard, blue housecoat flapping. One lad dangled a sweet wrapper, yanking it back when she reached. They howled as she stumbled.
“She’s lost, mate. Escaped the loony bin? Want a sweet?”
“Leave her alone!” Emily shouted.
The lads turned, grinning.
“Look, here’s another one!”
“Who are you—her granddaughter?”
“Pair of nutters!”
The lad with the wrapper swaggered toward her. The others fanned out, cutting off escape. Emily backed up till the fence dug into her spine. The gate was too far.
One grabbed her wrists. The others pressed closer, hands rough, voices coarse, deciding who’d go first—
“Oi! Get off her!” Tom charged in.
Two backed off, but the third held tight. A scuffle broke out. Emily stomped on her captor’s foot. He yelped, let go. She grabbed a broken plank, swung—too short for his head, it cracked against his back.
He lunged. She bolted for the gate.
“They found Gran safe, curled up on a park bench, humming an old nursery rhyme, and in that moment, Emily finally understood the quiet strength it took to care for someone who’d forgotten how to love you back.
