Nan Always Favoured One Grandchild — And what about me, Nan? — Katya would quietly ask. — You, Katya, are just fine as you are. Look at those rosy cheeks! Walnuts are for the brain, Dima needs to study, he’s a man, the family’s rock. You, off you go, dust the shelves. A girl needs to get used to work. — Kat, are you serious? She’s on her way out. The doctors say a couple of days, maybe hours… Dima stood in the kitchen doorway, nervously fumbling his car keys. He looked a total wreck. —I’m absolutely serious, Dima. Cup of tea? — Katya didn’t even turn, methodically slicing an apple for her daughter. — Sit down, I’ll make a fresh pot. —Tea? Now? Kat? — Her brother strode further in. — She’s there with all the tubes, wheezing… She called for you this morning. ‘Katyenka,’ she said, ‘where’s my Katyenka?’ My heart nearly stopped. Won’t you go? It’s Nan. Your last chance to say goodbye, don’t you get it? Katya laid the apple slices on a plate before finally meeting her brother’s gaze. — For you, she’s Nan. For her, you’re Dima, her golden boy, her only hope and heir. But I… I never truly existed for her. Do you honestly think I need this ‘farewell’? What are we meant to talk about, Dima? What am I supposed to forgive her for? Or she me? — Stop it with this schoolyard sulk! — Dima slammed his keys on the table. — So she loved me more. So what? She’s old, stuck in her ways. She’s dying! You can’t be this… cruel. —I’m not cruel, Dima. I just feel nothing for her. Go yourself. Sit with her, hold her hand—the only presence she wanted was yours. You’re her sunshine, her life. So be her light to the very end! Dima shot his sister a dark look, turned, and left, slamming the door behind him. Katya sighed, picked up the plate of apple, and went to her daughter’s room. *** In their family, everything had always been neatly divided. No, their parents loved them both equally—Katya and Dima. Their home was always warm, noisy, full of the smell of baking and endless family outings. But their gran, Gladys, was a different sort altogether. —Dima darling, my star — Gladys would croon as they visited each weekend — Look what I’ve saved just for you! Fresh walnuts, hand-cracked! And some Penguin bars, your favourite! Seven-year-old Katya would stand by, watching her nan produce that precious paper bag from the old dresser. —What about me, Nan? — she’d ask quietly. Gladys would give her a brisk, prickly glance. —You, Katya, are healthy enough. Just look at those cheeks! Walnuts are for brainy boys—Dima must study, he’s the man, the family’s future. Off you go, dust the shelves. Girls must learn to work. Dima, blushing, would slink away with his treats, while Katya got on with the dusting. She didn’t feel hard done by. Oddly enough, young Katya accepted it like the weather: Rain falls… and Nan loves Dima best. That’s just how things went. Normally, her brother would be waiting for her in the hall: —Here, — he’d whisper, breaking his haul in two: half the chocolate, a handful of walnuts — But don’t eat in front of Nan, she’ll only nag again. —You need them more—she’d smile. — For your big brain. —Oh, stuff that, — Dima would grin. — She’s bonkers. Quick, munch! They’d sit on the stairs to the attic, chomp through their forbidden spoils, sharing everything. Even when Nan secretly slipped Dima some “ice cream money”, he’d run straight to Katya: —Look, enough for two Mr. Whippys and a packet of stickers. Fancy a treat? Her brother was always her ally. His affection more than made up for Gran’s coldness, and Katya hardly noticed what she was missing. The years went by. Gladys grew older. When Dima turned eighteen, she solemnly announced she’d be leaving her second, centrally located flat to him in her will. —The family’s backbone needs a place to call his own, — she declared at a family meeting — so he can bring home a bride, not traipse from garret to garret. Mum just sighed. She knew her mother’s iron will and held her tongue, but later, when the fuss was over, she came to Katya. —Sweetheart, don’t fret… Dad and I see everything. Here’s the plan—what we’ve saved for a car and a bigger place, we’ll give to you as a flat deposit. To keep things fair. —Mum, it’s fine, — Katya hugged her — Dima needs the flat more, he’s marrying Irina. I’ll manage in my digs. —No, Katya. That’s not right. Nan has her quirks, but we’re your parents. We can’t favour one and leave the other out. So take it, no arguments. Katya never took it. Dima moved into his wedding-gift flat, giving the family home a sense of space. Katya spread her own books and easel in Dima’s old room, revelling, for the first time, in a family where love wasn’t measured out in teaspoons. Inheritance never soured things between the siblings; if anything, Dima felt almost guilty. —Come round ours, Katya, — he’d invite. — Irina’s baked pies. Nan rang yesterday, asking whether I’d blown “her” money on your whims. —What did you say? —Told her I’d spent the lot on arcade machines and posh gin, — he smirked. — She snorted down the phone, then muttered, “That Katya’s led you astray!” —Naturally, — Katya grinned. — Who else would it be? *** When Katya married Oleg and a baby arrived, the housing question loomed. Mum pulled off a diplomatic coup. —Listen, kids, — she said. — This place is huge for just your dad and me. Dima, you have your own flat. Katya, you’re stuck renting. Let’s split ours into a one-bed and a two-bed. Dad and I move to the one-bed; Katya and Oleg get the two-bed. —Mum, — Dima objected. — I’ll give up my share, straight away. Gran gave me a place—I’m set for life. Let Katya have the lot. She and her family need it. —Dima, are you sure? — Oleg was gobsmacked. — That’s a fortune. You’re sure? —Sure. Katya and I always shared. She lost out because of Nan anyway. Don’t argue. It’s settled. Katya wept—not for bricks and mortar, but for having the best brother in the world. They exchanged the old family flat, everyone was content. Mum babysat every week, and Dima’s family spent weekends round theirs. Gladys, meanwhile, lived alone. Dima brought shopping, did DIY, listened to endless gripes about her health and “that ungrateful Katya”. —Has she ever rung once? Has she even once asked after my blood pressure? —Nan, you never wanted to know her, — Dima tried to be gentle. — Not a kind word in twenty years. Why would she ring? —I was trying to bring her up! — Gladys declared, chin high. — A woman should know her place! Her… she grabbed a flat, bullied her mum out. Dima could only sigh. Explaining was pointless. *** Katya, sat in the quiet kitchen, haunted by half-forgotten images: Nan slapping her hand from the jam jar. Praising Dima’s clumsy drawing but passing by her own certificate without so much as a nod. Nan sitting like a queen at Dima’s wedding, but skipping Katya’s altogether—“Too ill,” she’d said. —Mum, why aren’t we seeing Granny Gladys? — Her daughter peeked round the door. — Uncle Dima says she’s really poorly. —Because Granny Gladys only wants to see Uncle Dima, sweetheart, — Katya stroked her hair — It makes her happy that way. —Is she mean? — her little girl squinted. —No, — Katya paused — She just couldn’t love everyone at once. Some people only have room in their heart for one. That happens. That evening, Dima rang again. —It’s over, Katya. An hour ago. —My condolences, Dima. You must be heartbroken. —She waited for you till the end, — he lied kindly. Katya recognised the fib for what it was—a bid for peace, at least at this ending. — She said, ‘May all go well for Katya.’ —Thank you, Dima… Come over tomorrow. We’ll sit together, I’ll bake a pie. —I’ll come… Aren’t you sorry you didn’t go see her? Katya didn’t lie. —No, Dima. I’m not. Why be a hypocrite? Neither of us ever wanted it… Her brother paused. —Maybe you’re right, — he said softly. — You always were the sensible one. See you tomorrow. The funeral was simple. Katya attended for her mother and brother. She stood to one side, in her black coat, staring up at that cemetery sky that’s always so bleak during farewells. When the coffin was lowered, she didn’t cry. Dima came to her side, put an arm around her shoulders. —You alright? —I’m okay, Dima. Really. —You know, — he hesitated — I was clearing out her flat… found a box. Old photos. Yours too. Loads. She’d carefully cut you out of all the family snapshots and kept you separate. Katya raised her eyebrows. —Why would she do that? —No idea. Maybe she did feel something, just didn’t know how to show it. Afraid that if she admitted loving you, it’d mean less for me. Old people… they’re odd sometimes. —Maybe so, — Katya shrugged. — Doesn’t really matter now. They walked to the gates under one umbrella—tall, solid Dima and slim, gentle Katya. —Listen, — he said at the cars — I’ve been thinking… I’ll sell that flat. Get a nice place for myself, set up savings for the kids, and the rest… shall we start a fund? Or donate to a children’s hospital? Let Nan’s money bring joy to someone for once… Katya looked at her brother and, for the first time in days, smiled warmly. —You know, Dima… that’s the best kind of revenge we could give Gladys. The kindest revenge in the world. —Deal? —Deal. They drove off in different directions. Katya put on music and, for the first time, felt total peace settle within her. Maybe Dima was right. Let part of Nan’s money help some child get well. That would be justice.

Granny Favoured One Grandchild

And what about me, Gran? she would ask softly.

You, Emily, youre already doing just fine. Look at those rosy cheeks, Gran would say with a sigh. Walnuts are for brains, dear for Jack, who needs to study hard. Hes a man, our support. Off you go, tidy those shelves. A girl must get used to work.

Em, are you serious? Shes slipping away. The doctors said a few days. Maybe hours

Jack stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his fingers knotting around his car keys. He looked wretched.

Im absolutely serious, Jack. Tea? Emily asked, never turning from slicing up an apple for her daughter each movement calm and measured. Sit down. Ill make a fresh pot.

Tea? Really, Em? Jack stepped into the room, voice cracking. Shes lying there, tubes everywhere, gasping

She called for you this morning, you know. Emily, wheres my Emily? Made my heart jump. Are you really not going to her? This is Gran your last chance, cant you see?

Emily set the slices on a small plate, only then turning to face her brother.

To you shes Gran. To her, youre Jackie, darling boy, the hope and pride of the family. But me? Ive never truly existed for her. Do you really think I need this farewell? What would we even say, Jack? What forgiveness is there left to give?

Oh, come off it, Em. Stop clinging to all that childhood nonsense! Jack slammed his keys onto the table, frustration spilling over. Fine, she didnt love you like she loved me. So what? Shes old, she was set in her mad ways. But shes dying, Emily. You cant just be so heartless.

Im not heartless, Jack. I simply feel nothing for her nothing. You go. Sit with her, hold her hand. She needs you far more than she could ever need me. Youre her golden boy, you always were. Go on, light her last days.

Jack locked eyes with his sister, then turned sharply, leaving the room in heavy silence, the door clapping shut behind him.

Emily simply sighed, picked up the plate of apples, and quietly left for the nursery.

***

In their family, lines were clear. Their parents loved them both, Emily and Jack, equally the house bursting with laughter, the smell of pastry, and the endless commotion of daily life.

But Margaret, their gran, was of a different breed entirely.

Jackie, come here, my lamb, shed call whenever they came to visit at weekends. Look what Ive saved for you.

Shed present him with shelled walnuts and gold-wrapped toffees the kind that tasted of childhood. Emily, all of seven, stood nearby watching as Gran pulled the treats from the ancient china cabinet.

And for me, Gran? she would whisper.

Gran would give her a clipped, prickly glance. Youre doing perfectly well, Emily. Just look at you. Walnuts are for cleverness, for Jack to help him learn hell be a man, our pillar one day. Off you go, wipe the shelves. Girls must learn to work, you know.

Jack, cheeks flushed, would collect his haul and shuffle from the room, while Emily quietly dusted the bookshelves. She didnt mind, not really. It was as if this was simply how life was like rain in April or fog on the moors. Granny loves Jack thats how the world turns.

Usually, Jack would wait for her in the hallway. Here, hed mumble, slipping half the toffees and a fistful of walnuts into her palm, eyes darting towards the kitchen. Eat these on the sly or shell have a go.

You need them more, for your braininess, Emily smiled.

Bother the brains, Jack scowled. Shes bonkers anyway. Go on, eat up.

They would perch together on the steps to the loft, munching their forbidden bounty. Jack always shared always. Even if Gran slipped him a fiver for ice cream in secret, hed fetch Emily at once.

Ere, theres enough for two cones and some chewing gum. Come on?

Her brother was always her anchor; his love made up for every bit of Grans chill. So much so, Emily barely noticed what she was missing.

Years swept by. Gran grew older. The year Jack turned eighteen, she grandly announced that shed signed over her second two-bedroom flat in the city centre to him.

The pillar of the family must have his own space, she pronounced at the family meeting. So he can bring his wife into his own home and not be forced to wander about.

Their mum gave a weary sigh, well aware of her mothers indomitable will. But later, when the house was quiet, she joined Emily in her room.

Love, dont you worry. Your dad and I have seen it all. Weve put away money for a bigger place and a car, but we want you to have it as your own starter home. Thats only fair, she said gently.

Oh, Mum, its fine, Emily replied, hugging her. Jack and Irina are planning a wedding. He needs it more. I can cope in the halls a while.

No, Emily. We cant favour one child and leave the other wanting. Thats just not us. So take it, no arguments.

But Emily didnt take it.

Jack moved into his gifted flat straight after the wedding. The familys old three-bed was suddenly spacious again, and Emily found herself in Jacks old room, filling it with her books and canvases revelling, for the first time, in a love that was hers alone, undivided.

The so-called inheritance never came between them. If anything, Jack grew sheepish about it.

Come round ours for dinner, Em. Irina just baked pies, hed say. Gran she rang again, mind. Asked if Id wasted her money on you.

And what did you say?

I told her I blew it all on fruit machines and fancy whisky, Jack chuckled. She huffed for ages, then mumbled, That Emilys a bad influence on you!

Who else could it be? Emily grinned.

***

When Emily married Oliver and they had their daughter, the housing question loomed once more. Their mum displayed her usual diplomatic flair.

Listen, kids, she said, our flat is much too big. Jack, you have Grans place. Emily, you and Oliver are stuck renting. Lets swap well trade up for a one-bedroom for us, a two-bed for you and Oliver.

Mum, Jack interrupted, Ill step away from my share of our old flat. I have what I need from Gran, plenty for us. Let Emily take the rest they have a little one. She needs the space.

Jack, are you sure? Oliver was taken aback, Thats a lot to give up

Im sure. Emily and I have shared everything since we were little. She missed out because of Gran. So, no arguments. Thats final.

Emily sobbed not over square metres, but at having a brother so good, so kind-hearted, it overwhelmed her.

Their family home was split as planned, and everyone had what they needed. Mum visited often to help with the little one; Jack and his family came every weekend.

Gran lived alone. Jack ran errands for her, fixed her pipes, sat through her tirades about her ungrateful Emily.

Has she ever called? Gran would scowl, lips pursed. Ever once asked about my blood pressure?

She didnt want to know, Jack would reply, steady. You never said a kind word to her, Gran, not in twenty years. Why should she call?

I was trying to raise her right! Gran would insist. A woman must know her place! Shes pinched the flat, driven your mother out! Ungrateful child.

Jack could only sigh. Reason was wasted on her.

***

Emily sat at the kitchen table, haunted by memories.

There was Gran, pushing away her hand from the jam jar. Gran praising Jacks lopsided doodle, walking right past Emilys certificate for winning the school science prize.

At Jacks wedding, Gran was regal and resplendent; at Emilys, she never even came claiming illness.

Mum, why dont we visit Granny Margaret? her own daughter asked, poking her head into the kitchen. Uncle Jack said shes very poorly.

Because Granny Margaret only wants Uncle Jack, darling, Emily replied, stroking her daughters hair. It helps keep her calm.

Is she mean? her little girl frowned.

No, Emily said slowly. She just never learnt to love everyone. Some people only have space for one in their hearts. Thats the way it goes.

Late that evening Jack called again.

Its over, Em. An hour ago.

Im sorry, Jack. You must be hurting.

She waited for you till the end, Jack lied gently a soft blanket over old wounds, his last hope for peace. She said, I hope Emilys all right.

Thank you, Jack Come over tomorrow. Lets have tea Ill bake.

Ill come. Em do you regret not seeing her?

Emily didnt lie.

No, Jack. I dont. Why pretend? Neither she nor I wanted to see each other, in the end

Jack paused.

Maybe youre right, he sighed. Youve always been the sensible one. See you tomorrow.

The funeral was quiet. Emily went for her mothers sake, and Jacks. She stood a little apart in a black coat, eyes raised to the dour, clouded English sky, which always felt lower in graveyards. As the coffin was lowered, she didnt cry.

Jack came over, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Howre you holding up?

Im all right, Jack. Truly.

You know, he said after a pause, in her flat, I found a box with old photos. Yours, too. Loads of them. Shed carefully snipped them out from all the group shots, kept them stashed away.

Emilys brows knit together in surprise.

Why?

I dont know. Maybe she did care, in her own way, but never could show it? Maybe she thought if she admitted you in, Id get less? Old folks are odd.

Maybe, Emily shrugged. But it doesnt matter now.

They left together beneath a single brolly tall, broad Jack and small, delicate Emily.

By the way, Jack said as they reached the cars. I was thinking Ill sell her flat. Use my own savings to get us a three-bed, buy the kids their own starter places and the rest Shall we set up a trust? Maybe donate to the childrens hospital? Let Grans money make someone happy for once.

Emily studied her brother for a long moment, and at last, her first genuine smile in days bloomed.

You know, Jack that would be the sweetest revenge on Gran Margaret. A most generous sort of victory.

So, agreed?

Agreed.

They both drove off into the misty city in different directions. Emily turned up the radio, the streets sliding by, and felt something deep within her finally come to rest.

Perhaps Jack was right let a share of that money go to help some unknown child. Perhaps thats justice, in the roundabout way families find it.