**The Second Time Holds Its Worth**
“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmas!” wailed little Elizabeth, seven years old, squirming in her mothers arms. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle Michael!”
“Elizabeth, dont be silly,” sighed Catherine, fastening her daughters coat. “Grandma loves all her grandchildren the same.”
“Thats not true!” The girl stamped her foot. “Yesterday she gave ice cream to Arthur, Aunt Sophies son, and she gave me nothing!”
“Perhaps you had a sore throat?” Catherine offered weakly.
“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her real granddaughter!”
Catherine froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a child of seven know such things? Who had told her?
“Elizabeth, who said that to you?”
“No one,” the girl turned to the window. “I worked it out. Arthur says his dad and my dad are brothers. And I know my dad isnt my real dad. My real dad lives far away.”
Catherines heart twisted. She sat beside her daughter on the sofa.
“Elizabeth, listen carefully. Dad John *is* your real father. He loves you dearlyhes cared for you since you were two. And Grandma Margaret loves you too.”
“Then why does she always praise Arthur and scold me?” Tears pooled in the girls eyes.
Catherine had no answer. Because Elizabeth was right. Her mother-in-law *did* treat her differently from her eldest sons grandson.
“Darling, were late,” John stepped into the room. “Elizabeth, get ready, or Grandma will be waiting.”
“I dont want to go!” Elizabeth cried again. “She doesnt like me!”
John glanced at his wife, bewildered.
“Whats wrong?”
“Ill explain later,” Catherine whispered. “Elizabeth, put your shoes on. Well all go together.”
They walked through the city park in silence. Elizabeth dragged her feet behind them, sniffling. John carried a bag of groceries for his mother, while Catherine dreaded the visit.
Margaret had always been a difficult woman. When John introduced Catherine and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had been cold.
“Why take on a child that isnt yours?” shed said. “Find a decent girl and have your own.”
But John was stubborn. He loved Catherine and Elizabeth as his own. They married, he adopted her legally, and gave her his name.
Margaret accepted itbut she never loved her granddaughter as she ought. Especially when her eldest son, Richard, gave her a “true” grandson: Arthur.
“Is she home?” John asked, knocking.
“Come in, come in,” came the reply.
Margaret opened the door and embraced her son.
“My John, how Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek and nodded at Catherine. “Hello, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Margaret.”
“And wheres my little granddaughter?” The grandmother spotted Elizabeth hiding behind her father.
“Here,” the girl mumbled.
“Come in, sit down,” Margaret ushered them to the parlour. “How are you all? John, youve lost weight!”
“No, Mum, Im fine,” he laughed. “Catherines cooking is splendid.”
“Thats good. And Elizabeth, hows school? Good marks?”
“Its all right,” the girl muttered.
“Elizabeth, answer properly,” Catherine chided.
“Oh, let her be,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Arthur got a two in Maths yesterday. Richard spent all evening tutoring him.”
“Elizabeth only gets fives in Maths,” John said proudly.
“Very good,” the grandmother said flatly. “Richards coming today with Arthur. Theyve missed their uncle.”
Catherine watched Elizabeths face darken. She knew her grandmother was happier to see one grandchild than the other.
“Mum, remember when Elizabeth recited that poem for you last month?” John asked.
“I do,” Margaret nodded. “It was lovely.”
“Would you like to hear another?” Elizabeth offered shyly.
“Go on, then.”
The girl stood in the middle of the room and recited a poem about spring. Catherine saw her effort, her longing to be loved.
“Very nice,” Margaret clapped when she finished. “Now wash your handslunch is ready.”
Elizabeth obeyed, and Catherine stayed to help set the table.
“Mrs. Margaret, might I speak with you?” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Elizabeth. She feels you treat her differently.”
The older woman slammed a plate down.
“I dont know what you mean.”
“You do. Children notice everything. She cried this morning because she didnt want to come.”
“And what have I done wrong?” Margaret turned. “I feed her, I invite her here.”
“But she sees the difference. When Arthur visits, you kiss him, embrace him, give him gifts. With Elizabeth, its all coldness.”
“Because she isnt mine!” the grandmother snapped. “I didnt bear her! She has her own grandmotherlet *her* care for her!”
“Mrs. Margaret, Elizabeth isnt to blame for not being Johns by blood. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. He adopted her, gave her his name.”
“Papers mean nothing,” she scoffed. “Blood is thicker than water. Arthur is my grandsonthis ones just… a goddaughter.”
Catherines throat tightened.
“So youll never love my child?”
“Why should I? When you have real children, well talk.”
Just then, Elizabeth walked in.
“Mum, why did Grandma call me a goddaughter?” Her voice trembled. “Im her granddaughter!”
Catherine realised shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.
“Elizabeth, go to your father,” Catherine urged.
“No! I want to know why Grandma doesnt like me!”
“Elizabeth, I *do* like you,” Margaret tried.
“Liar! You said Im a goddaughter! Im *not*Im Dad Johns real daughter!”
The girl ran out, weeping. Catherine shot a furious look at her mother-in-law and followed.
In the parlour, Elizabeth sobbed on the sofa beside John. He stroked her hair, bewildered.
“What happened?”
“Your mother called Elizabeth a goddaughter,” Catherine said coldly. “And meant it.”
John went pale.
“Mum, is this true?”
Margaret emerged, shamefaced.
“Son, I didnt mean… It just came out.”
“Grandma said Im not hers,” Elizabeth wept. “That I have my own grandma.”
John stood. Catherine saw his jaw tighten.
“Mum, how could you?”
“Darling, I only”
“Only what?”
In the end, after many tears and words, Grandma Margaret embraced Elizabeth and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the little girl never felt alone in that family again.
