The Unwanted, Yet Wanted Granddaughter

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 11 minViews 1

Useless, Useful Granddaughter

Look, over there. Thats her, Im telling you! hissed a stately woman to a rather simple-looking man. Lets just keep an eye on her for a minute or two.

A small girl of about five played quietly in the sandpit, carefully constructing a true princesss castle. So far, her masterpiece looked more like a giant mound, but Emily stubbornly refused adult help. She could do it herself! She mustnt forget to dig a moat around the castle, and a dragons cave too. Someone had to guard the kingdom!

It was a sultry summer afternoon in the heart of a London park. Emily was comfortably shaded by a canvas awning above her sandpit, much better off than her parents who baked in the sun. Fearing sunstroke for her daughter, Emilys mum had retreated to the shade of a chestnut tree and sent her husband for cold drinks and ice creams. Briefly distracted by a phone call, Sophie lost sight of Emily for a moment and that was all the onlookers needed.

Hello, little one, the woman said boldly, crouching beside Emily and startling her so much she jumped back. Losing her balance, Emily toppled onto the construction, flattening it nearly to dust. Her eyes immediately welled with tears: her hard work was destroyed! Dont cry now, its only a pile of sand. If youd like, I could build you a real castle.

MUM! Emily screamed at the top of her lungs, recalling every bit of Stranger Danger advice from nursery and home.

Springing to her feet, she scrambled out of the sandpit, just dodging the grasp of a totally unfamiliar man who tried to catch her.

Sophie, hearing her daughters terrified cries, dashed to her side, dropping her phone on the grass. The worried voice on the other end crackled from the ground.

Sweetheart, Sophie gathered Emily into a tight hug whats the matter, darling?

Over there Emily sobbed, clinging to her mums neck that strange lady and man! He tried to grab me! Mummy, Im frightened!

Emilys dad, James, rushed over next, quickly checking his daughter for any injuries before glaring at the pair whod so frightened her.

The elderly woman, about sixty, compressed her lips in irritation as she watched this family tableau. That girlthere was no doubt in her mindwas her granddaughter! The hair colour, the eyes, the shape of her little face a spitting image of Michael as a child, adjusted, of course, for gender.

Youve come a long way, the older woman began haughtily, scanning her former daughter-in-law and how dare you take my granddaughter off to the ends of the earth?

James, take Emily home; I’ll handle this, Sophie said, placing her precious daughter in her husbands arms. And perhaps ring Dad; tell him to send a couple of his chaps around.

Dont you dare! I want to meet my granddaughter! the older woman shouted, though she made no effort to follow. Two metres tall and built like a rugby prop there was no point. Why hadnt they checked sooner if Sophie had remarried?

Mrs. Cartwright Sophie practically spat the name, sizing up the woman before her what are you rambling on about? Granddaughter? Or have you had a lapse in memory? Let me remind you

********************

So, hows my future grandson? the woman had demanded eagerly as her son and daughter-in-law returned from the hospital.

Its a girl, as Ive said before, Sophie replied with a strained smile, wishing her mother-in-law would just leave the flat for once. The woman came round nearly every day, only going home to sleep! Sophie had to hide in her bedroom, pretending to feel unwell.

The doctors have clearly made a mistake, Mrs. Cartwright barked. In the Cartwright family, only boys are born!

Is that why you cut your eldest son off, because his wife had a girl? Sophie shot back, exhausted by this daily routine.

That wasnt his child! Mrs. Cartwright exploded, hating to recall that whole unpleasant episode. Tanya duped him, and he was foolish enough to believe her! ME! He wouldnt listen to ME! Trailed after some trollop! she spat the last word with clear disgust.

Tanya has DNA results in her hands, and you know it. You checked the document yourself over and over, trying to convince Alex it was a fake.

And it’s still a fake! How dare you doubt me? Insolent girl Mrs. Cartwright was barely restraining herself from a blowup. Not yet Wouldnt want to risk the baby through stress. And after all, their family needed an heir! It was getting positively embarrassing amongst her friends: all had grandsons except her

If you dont mind, Im going to have a lie down. I feel faint.

Sophie closed herself in the bedroom. Lately, she kept wondering if marrying Michael had been a terrible mistake. She did love him, unquestionably. But coping with THAT sort of mother-in-law well, her own mum had been spot on saying it would be better to move far away from this eccentric new relative.

Shed suggested relocating to Michael. He responded with utter horror.

How could he? Leave his mother to fend for herself? And what about his father good as useless, always dozing on the settee, unable to even hammer in a nail, let alone carry shopping. And his brother? Theyd fallen out with their mother. Refused to listen to reason, let themselves be tricked. A DNA test? Anyone could fake a slip of paper like that

Sophie settled for requesting that Michael at least talk to his mother about calling less often and not meddling so much.

She wants whats best for us! Michael shot back, offended. She gives good advice and helps you with the housework. Show some gratitude! Why always hiding in the bedroom?

I only hide because your mother gets on my nerves! Sophie finally snapped. Was it fair to blame her for not wanting a row? If she keeps it up, she wont see her granddaughter at all! Ill just go stay with my parents, and dont forget, my fathers a retired colonel hell sort it! Understood?

That row bought some respite. Mrs. Cartwright kept coming but limited her time and stopped with the constant criticisms. Sophie knew it wouldn’t last long, though, and the cycle would surely return soon.

What really bothered her was the womans absolute refusal to accept the possibility of a granddaughter. She insisted only boys were ever born into their family! The discord with Michaels sensible older brother was a prime example of her obsessive thinking.

Michael wasn’t much better. It could only be a boy for him, too! He eyed the scan results with a distinct sneer.

If its a girl, Ill throw you both out Michael slurred angrily one night after a few too many pints because itll prove you went and got yourself knocked up elsewhere. Im not Alex I wont have the wool pulled over my eyes!

After that, Sophie knew the marriage ride had to end. She began to seriously consider a divorce. Her father still had good contacts; he would help make it happen quickly.

Unsurprisingly, she had a baby girl. Michael threw a fit right there in the ward, caring nothing about his young wifes startled roommate cowering at the back of her bed. His rampage was swiftly ended by security, who escorted him out of the hospital.

The next day, Mrs. Cartwright appeared. She didn’t yell, apparently taking her sons example to heart, but expressed her views in no uncertain terms. When she started repeating herself, in came Sophies guardian angel a uniformed man, eyes sparkling with authority. With a simple arch of his brow, Mrs. Cartwright backed off. He even threatened legal trouble if she persisted in her accusations.

Michael wasted no time filing for divorce. When explained in plain English that, by law, you couldnt dissolve a marriage until a baby turned one, he immediately denied his newborn daughter, filing suit to contest paternity.

The solicitor who helped him with the paperwork nearly rolled his eyes at the reason: No girls are ever born in our family Quite absurd! Without a DNA test, you cant just say that!

I doubt youll win this case, the solicitor admitted. Especially as your brother also has a daughter, by your own admission.

Shes not really his!

Theres a DNA result

A fake! Michael, egged on by his mother, was set in his ways.

I hate to say it, but the court will accept the test, if ordered, as binding.

Im certain shes not mine, and thats final

The test never happened. Sophie decided to cut ties with that mad family, simply agreeing to Michaels suit. She wanted to spare her girl the risk of sudden interest from Michael years later. Better to be a single mum in peace

************************

Well, have you remembered? And why didnt you bring Michael with you?

Michael Michaels dead, the older woman replied solemnly. And your daughter is all we have left of him. Dont worry, well give her a proper upbringing, make her a real person

You? Raise her? On what grounds? Sophie snapped. Youre nobody to my girl. Your sons nobody to her! And thats legally settled. If I ever see you near my daughter again, Ill be reporting you to the police attempted abduction. My fathers respected in this town, so dont expect any mercy!

You dont understand, we have no one else!

Youve got your eldest. Alex has a daughter too go to them.

He wants nothing to do with us, the woman muttered, looking away. Only now did she begin to realise her own folly.

Sensible man, Sophie nodded approvingly. You put us through hell and still want something? Shall I remind you what you used to call my little one?

Mrs. Hunter, is there a problem? Two sturdy men in uniform headed briskly towards their bosss daughter.

Yes, theres a bit of an issue. Please see that these people leave our town.

But

No buts, the man cut in, stepping forward. Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright instantly retreated, making Sophie smile with satisfaction. This way, please.

Sophie headed home feeling on top of the world. Only one thought clouded her brow for a moment.

Better keep an eye on those Cartwrights. Make sure they stay away for good. Ill have a word with Dad hell see to itThat evening, as Sophie tucked Emily into bed, the little girl whispered, Mummy, will the dragon keep us safe tonight?

Sophie smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Emilys forehead. You built that dragons cave, sweetheart, remember? Hes right here, guarding us. And so am I.

Emilys cheeks dimpled as she yawned, sleep already claiming her. Downstairs, James was washing up, humming off-tunenormal, everyday sounds that soothed Sophies nerves. She paused for a moment on the landing, listening to these gentle reminders of the life she had fought for.

Outside, as dusk settled over the park and the days heat faded, Mrs. Cartwrights words hung in the air like distant thunderempty, far-off. Sophie felt no fear. Instead, she felt the fullness of her home, the warmth radiating in every room: laughter, safety, hard-won peace.

Tomorrow, Emily would rebuild her sandcastletaller, prouder; this time with a real moat, guarded by the fiercest dragon her imagination could conjure. Sophie would watch, cheering, and catch her if she stumbled.

Families werent forged by stubborn bloodlines or old superstitions, Sophie resolved, but by lovethe kind that held tight in the face of storms.

And as the stars winked to life outside, Sophie closed her daughters door with a soft click, certain of this one, simple truth: No one would ever again decide her daughters worth. Emily was already everythinguseful, useless, and magicaljust as she was.

LAST LOVE “Iro, I’m telling you, I have no money! I gave everything I had left to Natasha yesterday. You know, she has two children!” Utterly distressed, Mrs. Anna Foster put the phone down. She didn’t even want to think about what her daughter had just said. “Why is it like this? My husband and I raised three children, did everything for them. We gave them the best start in life! They’re all university graduates and have respectable jobs. But now, in my old age, I have neither peace nor help.” “Oh, Harry, why did you have to leave me so soon? Life was easier with you,” Anna Foster thought, speaking to her late husband. Her heart squeezed painfully; she reached habitually for her medication. “Only one or two capsules left. If things get worse, I’ll have nothing to help myself. I’ll need to go to the chemist.” Anna Foster tried to stand, but had to sink back into her armchair, dizzy. “It’s alright, the tablet will kick in soon. I’ll feel better.” But the minutes passed, and she felt no better. Anna Foster dialled her youngest daughter: “Natasha…” was all she managed to say before— “Mum, I’m in a meeting, I’ll call you back!” She called her son: “Love, I feel really poorly. I’ve run out of tablets. Could you after work—” He cut her off. “Mum, I’m not a doctor, and you’re not either! Call an ambulance, don’t wait!” Anna Foster sighed heavily. “He’s right, I suppose. If I still feel bad in half an hour, I’ll ring for an ambulance.” She reclined carefully in her chair and closed her eyes, counting silently to a hundred to calm herself. Suddenly, from far away, she heard a sound. The phone! “Hello?” she answered, barely able to move her lips. “Anna, love, it’s Peter! Are you alright? Something told me I should ring you!” “Peter, I don’t feel well.” “I’m coming over! Can you open the door?” “It’s always open these days,” she murmured. The phone slipped from Anna’s hand. She had no strength to retrieve it. “So what,” she thought. Like a film, scenes from her youth flashed before her eyes: There she was, a young girl at university. Two dashing young cadets with balloons for some reason. How funny! she’d mused back then. Grown men, carrying balloons! Oh yes—it was the 9th of May, Victory Day. A parade, a festival! She was between Peter and Harry with those two balloons. She’d chosen Harry—he was livelier, Peter was too reserved. Then life had sent them on different paths: she and Harry to Hertfordshire, Peter to Germany. Many years later, they all met again in their hometown, once the men had retired. Peter had never married, never had children. Why? people would ask… He’d wave it off with a joke: “Unlucky in love—perhaps I should try my luck at cards!” Anna Foster heard voices, conversation. She pried her eyes open with effort: “Peter!” Next to him must be a paramedic. “She’ll be alright now. Are you her husband?” “Yes, yes!” Peter answered. The paramedic gave Peter instructions. Peter never left her side, holding Anna’s hand until she felt better. “Thank you, Peter! I really do feel so much better!” “Good. Here, have some tea with lemon.” Peter stayed, tidied up the kitchen, looked after Anna. Even when she was recovering, he hovered nervously, as if afraid to leave her alone. “You know, Anna, I’ve loved you my whole life. That’s why I never married, never had a family.” “Oh Peter, I had a good life with Harry. He respected me; I loved him. You never said anything, I had no idea how you felt. But what’s the point of talking of it now? The years have gone.” “Anna, let’s live out the rest of our days together—however long we have, let’s be happy!” Anna leaned her head on Peter’s shoulder and took his hand: “Let’s!” she laughed, her heart light with happiness. A week later, Natasha finally rang. “Mum, I saw you called but I’ve just been so busy—” “Oh, it’s fine, love. Just so you’re not surprised, I’m letting you know—I’m getting married!” Silence on the line, broken only by her daughter gasping for breath, searching for words. “Mum, are you out of your mind? You should be in the grave by now, not getting married! And who’s the lucky suitor?” Tears sprang to Anna’s eyes, but she found the strength to reply calmly, “That’s my business.” And hung up. She turned to Peter: “Well, brace yourself. The children will be here in a flash. Prepare for battle!” “We’ll manage! We’ve always pulled through before,” Peter laughed. Indeed, that evening all three children arrived: George, Irene and Natasha. “Well, Mum, introduce us to your Casanova!” George sneered. “You know me already,” Peter said, coming from the other room. “I’ve loved Anna since we were young. When I found her so ill last week, I knew I couldn’t lose her. I proposed, and she kindly accepted.” “Who do you think you are, you old clown? Love, at your age?” Irene shrieked. “Age? We’ve barely just turned seventy! There’s plenty of life ahead—and besides, your mother is still a beauty,” Peter smiled. “So, you’re after her flat, aren’t you?” Natasha said coldly, her tone sharp as a solicitor’s. “Children, really, what does my flat have to do with you? You all have your own homes,” Anna protested. “Nevertheless, part of that flat is our inheritance!” Natasha retorted. “Calm down, I want nothing from you. I have a place to live,” said Peter. “But please, stop speaking to your mother like that—it’s hurtful!” “Who do you think you are, you pompous old playboy!” George charged at Peter, squaring up like a prizefighter. But Peter didn’t flinch. He drew himself up straight and met George’s gaze. “I’m your mother’s husband, whether you like it or not.” “And we’re her children!” cried Irene. “And tomorrow, she’ll be in a care home—or a psychiatric ward!” Natasha chimed in. “No, absolutely not! Pack your things, Anna—we’re leaving!” They walked out together, hand in hand, not looking back. They didn’t care what anyone thought—they were happy and free! A solitary streetlamp lit their way. And the children stood, watching them go, utterly baffled that anyone could find love at seventy.

I Miss Him. I’ve Never Missed Anyone Like This Before, and I Don’t Know Why—Especially Since I Didn’t Always Feel Good with Him and There Were Things I Didn’t Like We Met on Facebook, Started Chatting, and One Day He Invited Me for Coffee. We Went to a Park. That Day, I Was Emotionally Down—Disheartened, and Physically Sore from Pushing Myself at the Gym; My Legs Hurt Awfully. We Talked in the Park—It Was Evening, the Sky Was Clear, and It Was Bitterly Cold. We Spoke About Personal Things, Our Lives, Who We Are. As We Were Leaving, I Hugged Him. A Hug That Lasted Several Minutes. It Felt Like “Home,” Even Though It Came from a Man Who Seemed Cold, Serious, and Distant. In That Hug, I Felt That Deep Down He Wasn’t Really Like That. I Don’t Know If He Felt Awkward—Just Like Me. But You Could Sense He Wasn’t Doing Well and That the Hug Meant Something. We Parted with One More, Shorter Hug. We Kept Chatting Late Into the Night. Days Went By Like This—“Good Morning” from Him, Texts Throughout the Day, Endless Messages. We Started Going Out. We Spoke About Deep Things, Shared Dreams, Imagined Different Futures. He Told Me He Lived with a Mate. He Told Me About His Ex. He Said He Liked Chatting with Girls and Female Friends He’d Dated. Then He Moved Back in with His Parents. We Made Our Relationship Official, and Then He Admitted the Truth: He Had Actually Been Living with His Ex. According to Him, Nothing Was Going on Between Them—Even Before That—but They Worked Together. He Posted a Photo of Them Together. On His Birthday, I’d Planned to Take Him Out to a Beautiful Medieval-Style Restaurant to Surprise Him. But Around Noon, I Got an Instagram Message from a Woman Insulting Me. I Didn’t Respond. I Just Asked Him What Was Going On. He Reminded Me About His Ex—That She Loved Sending People to Harass Others and Send Nasty Messages. I Didn’t Answer Until I Spoke to Him. He Said He’d Sorted It, but the Messages Continued. I Only Responded As Much as Needed. I’m Not a Woman Who Lowers Herself or Responds to Arrogance at Her Level. Then I Blocked. We Got Through It. Moved Forward. Our Relationship Even Grew Stronger. We Shared More. I Was Out of Work, and He Encouraged Me to Find a Job. Sometimes He Helped Out with Expenses, Which Embarrassed Me. I Never Asked—He Did It on His Own. When He Went on Holiday, He Told Me to Stay at His. I Did, but Made the Mistake of Staying Both Weeks. He “Tested” Me—to See What I Was Like at Home. He Spent Loads on Takeaways, Saying Cooking Was a Waste of Time and Ready Food Was Always an Option. The Holiday Ended and a Lot of Money Had Been Spent. I Told Him to Save, but He Didn’t Listen. Then He Told Me I Hadn’t Helped Him Save, That If He Spent Money It Was Because I Let Him—even Though I’d Suggested Cooking and Being Careful with Our Spending. After That, He Told Me He Had Bills to Pay, Which Stressed Him Out—and That Made Me Feel Bad. I Got a Job and Then He Told Me He Would “Test” Me Again. The Test Was to See If I Would Help Pay for Living There and for Everything He’d Spent. He Said It Felt Like He Was Supporting Me. I Didn’t Know What to Say. I Was Still Learning How to Live in a Relationship. He Said Everything Would Change—and It Did. Hardly Any Plans or Meetings. Messages Became Short. He Said He Had to Catch Up Financially, That He Was Now Struggling, That He Couldn’t Even Eat Properly. Everything Started To Fall Apart. One Day, He Told Me I Was “Draining His Wallet,” That I’d Hurt Him Financially—even Though I’d Never Asked for Anything. I Had a Job. Sometimes I Paid, Sometimes He Did. But There Were No More Plans. Everything Was Different. We Decided to End Things. We Broke Up on Good Terms—Thankful for the Good and the Lessons Learned. We Closed the Door with Dignity. Then We Tried Again. We Spoke. But I Didn’t Like Staying at His After Work with No Food. Sometimes He Didn’t Even Invite Me to Eat. I Wondered Whether to Pack Lunch or Eat a Big Breakfast So I Wouldn’t Go Hungry. I Told Him How I Felt, but He Didn’t Say Anything or Offer a Solution. It Made Me Feel Like I Was On My Own. That Killed the Relationship. One Day, While with Him, I Felt Faint on the Train, Almost Passed Out. I Sat on the Floor So I Wouldn’t Collapse. He Didn’t React. That Finally Drove Me Away. I Grew Distant Inside. Deep Down, I Wanted Him, But Knew He Wasn’t the Man I Wanted By My Side—Despite the Dreams and Goals We’d Shared. I Begged Him Many Times Not To Go to Bed Angry. But I Started Falling Asleep Next To Him in Tears. Until One Day, I Decided I Wouldn’t Take It Anymore. I Got Up Early, Packed My Things, and Left. We Talked. I Told Him How I Felt. I Had Given Him a Drawing He Loved, But I Took It Off the Wall and Kept It. I Shouldn’t Have Done That. Something Broke in Me—and in Him. Weeks Later, We Spoke Again. He Told Me That by Taking the Drawing, I Took Away the Happiness He’d Felt With It, and That Something Was Broken Forever. We Closed the Door Again. Sometimes I Sent Him Thank You Messages or Videos, But He Didn’t Reply. It Was All Empty. One Night, Around Midnight, I Received a Message Full of Insults—Saying I Was the Woman Who’d Torn Him from His Family. I Deleted the Chat and Blocked. Then People from the Company He Worked For Started Contacting Me on Social Media. I Knew It Was His Ex or His New Partner. I Didn’t Reply. I Spoke to His Workplace and Set a Boundary—Said I’d Take Legal Action If It Continued. That Stopped It. It Made Me Sad. I Changed. I Realised He Wasn’t the Man I Want. We Split on Good Terms, but Seeing Him Again with Someone Who Had Caused Him So Much Chaos Really Hurt. Sometimes I Miss Him. I Miss Some of the Good Things. But That’s All. One Thing I Know for Sure: With Me, He Felt Calm and Proud. I Don’t Think He’ll Feel That with Her—Or Be the Man He’d Want to Show the World.