It so happened that he was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was still alive.
This was the fate of Stanleyraised by his grandmother while his mother lived on. It must be said that his mother was remarkablelovely and kind-hearted. But she worked as a singer at the Royal Philharmonic, so she was rarely home. Her frequent travels eventually led to a split with her husband, the boys father. Thus, Stanley was cared for only by his grandmother.
For as long as he could remember, whenever Stanley returned to their block of flats, he would look up to the fourth floor and see the silhouette of his dear grandmother waiting for him in the window. And whenever she saw him off somewhere, she would wave from that same window, and he would always wave back.
But when Stanley turned twenty-five, his grandmother passed away. Now, coming home to an empty window where her silhouette once stood, he felt a hollow, aching sadness. Even when his mother was home, Stanley felt alone. They hadnt spoken honestly in years, no shared interests, no common ground. Even mundane household matters were handled separately, as if they were strangers.
A few months after his grandmothers death, Stanley suddenly decided to leave for another city. His skills were in high demandIT specialists were needed everywhere. Online, he found a good firm offering a generous salary and covering rent. His mother was relieved. After all, her son was grown, and it was time he found his own way, far from home.
He took only his grandmothers favourite scarf as a keepsake and a small bundle of clothes. With a travel bag on his shoulder, he glanced one last time at the kitchen windowbut no one was there. His mother didnt even come to wave goodbye. A taxi swiftly carried him to the train station, and soon he was lying on the top bunk of a sleeper carriage.
The next morning, the train arrived precisely on schedule. Stanley found his new office, checked in, and went to scout flats from the addresses hed saved online. Navigating the unfamiliar city with his phone, he suddenly noticed a block of flats. It looked eerily like his old home. All these post-war builds were similar, but something about this one felt unsettling. Maybe it was the window framespainted the same peculiar shade of turquoise.
Without meaning to, Stanley strayed from his route and slowly approached the building. He just wanted to stand there awhile and remember his grandmother. As he neared, he instinctively looked upstraight at the window where his old kitchen should be. And then he froze. His head spun at what he saw. On the fourth floor, behind the kitchen window, stood his grandmothers silhouette. He knew it was her instantlyhis heart nearly leapt from his chest.
Stanley was a rational man. He knew this was impossible. So he shut his eyes, turned away, and walked off. His mind said it was just another old woman, but his heart whispered: *Wait. Its her.* And he listened. He stopped, turned back, and looked up again.
She was still there.
Stanley couldnt take it. Bag still on his shoulder, he sprinted into the building, up to the fourth floor. And just like in his old home, the lock on the stairwell door was broken. He flew up the steps and rang the flats bell. The door opened to a bleary-eyed woman in a dressing gown, glaring at the stranger.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
“Me?” Stanley faltered. “II want my grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” she repeated, bewildered. Then, with a sudden smile, she called into the flat, “Mum! Theres someone here for you!”
While her mother approached, the woman studied this odd young man. Stanleys vision swam, his heart hammering as if it might stop.
“Whos asking for me?” came a voice from deeper insideanother woman in a dressing gown, mid-fifties, just as tired-looking.
“Mum, you wont believe this,” the daughter smirked. “He just called you his grandmother.”
“Wait” Stanley whispered. “I wasnt calling *you* Ishe was in your window. The kitchen. I *saw* her. My grandmother.”
“Are you on something?” The daughter sneered. “Theres no grandmother here! Just me and my mum! Got it?”
“Right Sorry I mustve” The world tilted. Stanley stepped back, dropped his bag, and braced himself against the wall. “Ill juststand here a moment. Then Ill go.”
The daughter began shutting the door, but her mother stopped her.
“Hey, lad,” the older woman said gently, “how are you feeling?”
“Fine” he lied weakly. “Dont worry about me.”
“You look like your blood pressures through the roof. Face red as a beetroot. Come here.” She guided him inside, barking orders: “Emily, grab his bag! Bring the blood pressure monitorquick!”
The daughter, wide-eyed, obeyed.
Stanley was seated on the hallway sofa, and without a word, the woman took his blood pressure. Then she snapped more orders.
“Get my bagneedles are in there.” She turned to Stanley. “Im giving you something to settle you, then were calling an ambulance.”
“No ambulance!” he protested. “I just got off the trainI havent even rented a flat yet”
“Listen to my mum!” Emily cut in. “Shes a doctor, understand?”
“Youre not from here?” the mother asked.
Stanley nodded weakly.
“Please dont call anyone,” he whispered. “I start my new job tomorrow. First day.”
“Quiet.” She injected him swiftly. “Ever had episodes like this before?”
“No.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Heart problems?”
“I swear Im healthy.”
“Healthy?” she scoffed. “Your pressures at 180 over 100thats no joke.”
“Just nerves, maybe.”
“Nerves about what?”
“I told you. I saw my grandmother in your window. She was standing therewatching me.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes. But she died a couple of months ago. Are you *sure* theres no elderly woman here?”
“Youre really odd,” Emily laughed. “I *told* youits just me and Mum. But fine, Ill check the kitchen if itll calm you down.”
Emily marched off cheerfullythen shrieked moments later.
“Mum! What on earth?!” She reappeared, clutching a strange scarf. “Where did *this* come from?! Weve never owned anything like this!”
Stanley blinked.
“Thats my grandmothers scarf. I *took* it. Its supposed to be in my bag. I brought it as a keepsake. This is some kind of trick.”
“Where *is* your bag?” The women stared at him, baffled.
“Right there” He gestured to his travel bag by the door. “The scarf should be inside.”
They emptied it completely. The second scarf was nowhere to be found.
To this day, the incident remains unexplainedespecially for Emilys mother. Because within months, she became Stanleys mother-in-law.
A proper mystery, that.
