When I finally found a bit of personal happiness, my daughter called me crazy and told me I couldn’t see my granddaughter anymore.
My whole life was dedicated to my daughter, and then to my granddaughter. But it seemed like my family forgot I had a right to my own happiness, too—something separate from just them. I got married young, at twenty-one. My husband, William, was quiet, steady, a proper hardworking bloke. One day, he got offered a two-week job hauling freight up north—decent pay, he said.
He never came back. To this day, I don’t know what happened on that trip. One day, I just got a call telling me he was gone. I was left alone with my two-year-old, completely on my own. His parents had passed years before, and mine lived in another town. I didn’t know how we’d survive.
Thank God we at least had his old flat—a tiny one-bedroom, but it kept a roof over our heads. I trained as a teacher, so at first I tried tutoring from home, but how do you teach with a toddler crying and running about?
I couldn’t take a proper job—who’d look after little Emily all day? Mum came round once, saw the state of me, and took her back with her. For nearly two years, Emily lived with her grandparents while I worked myself to the bone—teaching, extra shifts, private lessons.
Every weekend, I’d visit. Every goodbye shattered me. Eventually, she got a nursery spot—I’d worried about endless sick days, but luckily, she was tough as nails, hardly ever ill. Years passed—just the two of us. School, then university.
I worked every job I could so she’d have the best trainers, the nicest skirts. Two, sometimes three jobs at a time. When Emily finally graduated and got work, I felt relief—and then this awful emptiness. Who needed me now?
No more scrambling for extra shifts. My body was exhausted, and my only company was the cat. Emily visited weekends, but spending hours entertaining her lonely mum wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. I felt thrown away. Then my granddaughter, Lucy, was born—and suddenly, I had purpose again.
A few months before the birth, I moved in with Emily and her husband, David. Shopping, cleaning, hospital bags—I sorted it all. Once Emily went back to work, Lucy was mine to care for. I didn’t mind, honestly—it felt good to be needed.
This year, Lucy started school. I’d pick her up, feed her, help with homework, take her to the park or after-school clubs. And that’s where I met James. He was there with his granddaughter too. We got talking—he’d lost his wife young, same as me, and now helped his daughter raise her little one.
When I first knew James, I didn’t dare hope. I’d never been on a single date after William died—first the baby, then work. After Lucy came, I was just “Gran.” Do grandmothers even *have* boyfriends? Turns out, they do. James made me remember I was still a woman.
His first text asking to meet up—just us, no kids—sent me reeling. With him, I got a new life. Cinema, theatre trips, festivals, exhibitions. I remembered what it was like to actually *live.*
But Emily hated it. It started with a call one Saturday morning:
“Mum, we’re coming over—can you have Lucy this weekend?”
“Sorry, love, I’ve got plans. We’re out of town. Next time, give me notice, yeah? I’ll sort it.”
She huffed and hung up. Monday came, James and I got back, and I was glowing—even Lucy noticed. Everything was fine till Friday, when the phone rang again:
“Friends invited us out—can you take Lucy?”
“We agreed on notice, love. I’ve got plans.”
“Oh, off with *James* again, are you? He’s got you proper twisted!” she snapped.
“Em, what’s got into you?!”
“You’ve forgotten all about Lucy! You used to say you didn’t *need* happiness—what changed?”
“*I* did! I’m alive again. I wish you’d understand—woman to woman.”
“And how’s Lucy supposed to understand? You’ve swapped her for some bloke?!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m still with her most days. Just forget this, yeah?”
“*I* should forget? You’ve lost the plot. You’re not having Lucy again till you sort yourself out.” Click.
I cried till it hurt, till I shook. I gave them *everything.* And the second it was my turn, they cut me off. Just like that. For daring to be happy.
I hope Emily cools down. She’ll call. She’ll understand. Because I can’t imagine life without her—or Lucy.
