Grandad’s Spitting Image: How a Grandson Brought His Nan Back to Life
Lorraine and Paul drove up to the countryside with their son, Victor, to visit Lorraine’s mum and leave the lad with his nan for the school holiday. On the way, they stopped for groceries—sausages, Nan’s favourite Victoria sponge, all her usual treats. But when they arrived, Theresa hardly cracked a smile. At the table, just tea—no spread, even though they’d stocked the fridge to bursting. She barely touched a thing, just looked worn out and flopped onto the couch.
Outside, the last of the winter snow was dripping away under a bright spring sun. Lorraine stood by the window, squinting at the light. “Lovely,” she thought, remembering her dad, who’d passed a couple years back. He always cheered when spring came—”We’ve made it through another winter!” His jokes, his hugs, his laugh… Mum had been strict but full of life, grumbling one minute, smiling the next. They’d loved each other, properly. Now? Theresa just seemed… gone. Since losing her husband, she’d faded.
Then Lorraine’s sister, Grace, rang in a panic:
“Lorraine, Mum’s in a bad way. Says she’s tired of living. Nothing pleases her anymore—wants to be with Dad…”
“We’ll come up this weekend, promise,” Lorraine said, but her chest tightened. Maybe they should bring Mum home? She clearly couldn’t cope alone.
Not that home was any easier. Their eldest, Darla, was at that age—clashing with Paul, threatening to move out the second she turned 18, sick of being “controlled.” And young Victor? Glued to his phone, day and night.
“Let’s go see your mum. And take Vick with us—get him off that screen,” Paul suggested.
Victor rolled his eyes.
“What am I even supposed to do there?!”
“Chill out!” Darla snapped. “And give us a break from you…”
That weekend, arms loaded with bags of food, they set off. Nan met them at the door, still pale, still quiet. Paul nudged Lorraine—”Putting it on.” But she really did look poorly. Picked at her food, just sipped tea. When Lorraine asked if Victor could stay, Theresa just waved a hand. “Leave him.”
Victor sulked, but stayed. The moment the door shut, Nan retreated to her room… and cried. Then she remembered meeting her William—how shy he was at first, how his sister had pushed them together. All that spring, years ago. And now spring again. But no William.
Then—a yelp. Nan jumped up. Victor! He’d pinched his finger in the door, standing there pouting and furious.
“Why so cross, Vicky? Hungry, are ya?” she asked softly.
“Your food’s rubbish. Makes me feel sick,” he muttered. “Wish you’d make your milk noodles. You know, the sweet ones with butter.”
Nan’s chest ached. William had loved those noodles too. Always asked for them when he was down. So, groaning, she got up.
“Only if you eat with me, yeah? I’m bored,” Victor added.
And just like that, they fell into a rhythm. Lorraine rang daily. At first, Nan gave clipped answers. Then the complaints started:
“Still won’t wipe his boots! Claims his stomach hurts—till I take away his sweets. Miraculous recovery! Stopped traipsing mud in, too. Getting clever, this one.”
Paul laughed. “There you go! Someone new to nag—life’s back on track!”
A week later, they came to fetch Victor. But he refused to leave! Nan blinked back tears.
“Spitting image of your William… Stubborn, sweet, and a right little fox!”
“Don’t cry, Nan. I’ll be back soon,” Victor said, dead serious.
“You’d better. We’ve got the garden, the gate, all sorts. You promised to help!”
“Will do, Nan. Promise.”
Theresa smiled through the tears.
“And give him his phone back—he’s calling me now!” she ordered the parents.
“Brilliant, how you sorted that,” Lorraine chuckled in the car home.
“Fight fire with fire! Our Vick could wake the dead. Got your mum off that sofa—and she was halfway to the afterlife!”
Now she’s got someone to live for again. Because Victor? He’s grandad all over. And Nan knows how to handle ’em. Look how she raised my wife! Paul added.
They laughed. Life, it seemed, was mending itself.
