“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmas!” shouted little Emily, seven years old, squirming in her mothers arms. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle Michael!”
“Emily, dont make things up,” replied Charlotte, sighing as she buttoned her daughters coat. “Grandma loves all her grandchildren the same.”
“Thats not true!” The girl stomped her foot. “Yesterday she gave ice cream to Oliver, Aunt Sophies son, and she gave me nothing!”
“Maybe you had a sore throat?” Charlotte offered weakly.
“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her real sons child!”
Charlotte froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a seven-year-old know such things? Who had told her?
“Emily, who said that to you?”
“No one,” the girl muttered, turning to the window. “I figured it out. Oliver says his dad and my dad are brothers. And I know my dad isnt my real dad. My real dad lives far away.”
Charlottes chest tightened. She sat beside her daughter on the sofa.
“Emily, listen carefully. Dad James *is* your real dad. He loves you so muchhes looked after you since you were two. And Grandma Margaret loves you too.”
“Then why does she always praise Oliver and scold me?” Tears welled in Emilys eyes.
Charlotte hesitated. Because Emily was right. Her mother-in-law *did* treat her differently from her elder sons grandson.
“Love, were running late,” James called from the hallway. “Emily, hurry up or Grandma will be waiting.”
“I dont want to go!” Emily burst into tears again. “She doesnt like me!”
James glanced at his wife, confused. “Whats going on?”
“Ill explain later,” Charlotte whispered. “Emily, get dressed. Well all go together.”
They walked through the city park in silence. Emily dragged her feet behind them, sniffling. James carried a bag of groceries for his mother, while Charlotte braced herself for the visit.
Margaret had always been difficult. When James introduced Charlotte and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had been cold.
“Why take on a child that isnt yours?” shed said. “Find a proper girl and have your own.”
But James was stubborn. He loved Charlotte and Emily as if she were his own. They married, he adopted her legally, and gave her his name.
Margaret accepted it, but she never loved her granddaughter the way she deservedespecially when her eldest son, Richard, gave her a “real” grandson: Oliver.
“Anyone home?” James knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” came the reply.
Margaret opened the door and hugged her son. “James, Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek and nodded at Charlotte. “Hello, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Wilson.”
“And wheres my little granddaughter?” Margaret spotted Emily hiding behind James.
“Im here,” the girl mumbled.
“Come in, sit down,” Margaret ushered them to the living room. “How are you? James, youve lost weight!”
“No, Mum, Im fine,” he laughed. “Charlottes a brilliant cook.”
“Thats good. And Emily, hows school? Good marks?”
“Its alright,” Emily muttered.
“Emily, answer your grandmother properly,” Charlotte chided.
“Oh, leave her,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Oliver got a D in Maths yesterday. Richard spent all evening helping him.”
“Emily only gets As in Maths,” James said proudly.
“Well done,” Margaret said flatly. “Richards coming over with Oliver later. They miss their uncle.”
Charlotte saw Emilys face fall. She knew her grandmother was happier to see one grandchild than the other.
“Mum, remember when Emily and I visited last month?” James said. “She recited a poem for you.”
“I remember,” Margaret nodded. “It was lovely.”
“Would you like to hear another?” Emily asked shyly.
“Go on, then.”
The girl stood in the middle of the room and recited a poem about spring. Charlotte watched her daughters effort, her desperate wish to please.
“Very nice,” Margaret clapped when she finished. “Now go wash your handslunch is ready.”
Emily obeyed, and Charlotte stayed to help set the table.
“Mrs. Wilson, may I speak with you?” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Emily. She feels you treat her differently.”
Margaret slammed a plate down. “I dont know what you mean.”
“You do. Children notice everything. She cried today because she didnt want to come.”
“And what am I doing wrong?” Margaret turned sharply. “I feed her, I invite her here.”
“But she sees the difference. When Oliver visits, you kiss him, hug him, give him gifts. With Emily, its cold.”
“Because shes not *mine*!” the grandmother snapped. “I didnt raise her! She has her own grandmotherlet *her* care for her!”
“Mrs. Wilson, Emily isnt to blame for not being Jamess birth child. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. He adopted her. She has your name.”
“Papers dont mean blood,” Margaret scoffed. “Oliver is my grandson. Shes… a goddaughter, at best.”
Charlottes throat tightened. “So youll never love my daughter?”
“Why should I? When you two have *real* children, then well talk.”
Just then, Emily walked in.
“Mum, why did Grandma call me a goddaughter?” Her voice shook. “Im her *granddaughter*!”
Charlotte realised shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.
“Emily, go to your dad,” Charlotte said gently.
“No! I want to know why Grandma doesnt like me!”
“Emily, I *do* like you,” Margaret tried.
“Liar! You said Im a goddaughter! Im *not*Im Dad Jamess *daughter*!”
The girl ran off crying. Charlotte glared at her mother-in-law and followed.
In the living room, Emily sobbed on the sofa beside James. He stroked her hair, bewildered.
“What happened?”
“Your mother called Emily a goddaughter,” Charlotte said coldly. “And she meant it.”
James paled. “Mum, is this true?”
Margaret stepped in, shamefaced. “Son, I didnt mean It just slipped out.”
“Grandma said Im not hers,” Emily wept. “That I have my own grandma.”
James stood. Charlotte saw his jaw tighten.
“Mum, how could you?”
“James, I only”
“You only *what*?”
In the end, after tears and hard words, Grandma Margaret hugged Emily and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the little girl never felt alone in that family again.
