The Granddaughter of the Granny

Theres a mum and theres a daughter and in my case the daughter turned out to be my mates little girl, Emma.

Wed gone off on a sunny break down in Cornwall, and somewhere between the cream tea and the beach walks Emma got knocked up. A few months later a tiny bundle arrived little Poppy, a sunkissed girl with dark eyes and a cheeky grin.

Emma kept the job, while Poppy stayed at home with her gran, Molly, but in the evenings Emma liked to slip out for a pint or two, a bit of a break from the daily grind.

Sometimes shed bring a bloke home. Molly knew about it but never stuck her nose in Emmas love life.

When Poppy turned five, Emma announced she was moving in with a new fella. He didnt even know about the child yet. She begged Molly to look after Poppy while she sorted things out.

Molly had to cash in her holiday savings and survive on a modest state pension. Emma chipped in the occasional tenner whenever she could.

Poppy missed her mum terribly. Shed stare out the kitchen window, flinch at every creak in the hallway, and mutter to herself about how lonely the world was.

Emmas visits grew rarer, and she started sending money onto Poppys bank card instead of showing up.

One evening, though, she decided to pop round with a bag of sweets and a few presents. She turned up just as Poppy, fresh from a bath, was perched in her pajamas watching Goodnight, Little Ones.

The moment Poppy heard her mums voice, she leapt off the sofa, hurled herself at Emma, and wrapped her little arms around her neck. Mum! Ive missed you so much! I love you! she squealed.

Money, love, dont strangle me, dear, Emma laughed, I love you too. But Poppy held on like a barnacle, and Emma struggled to free her tiny hands.

In desperation, Poppy clutched Emmas ankles. Youre not going anywhere, are you? You wont leave me again? Were in this forever, right?

Patience, love, Emma said, someone will come to collect you soon. Ive got to be off now. She gave a quick hug and bolted out, slamming the door behind her.

I stood in the kitchen, tears streaming like a leaky tap, while Emma rummaged through the firstaid cabinet for a bottle of ibuprofen.

Emma waved goodbye, and Poppy sat on the floor, hands folded on her knees, staring at the wall. She didnt cry; she just stared.

Mum doesnt love me, shes gone. Ive got no dad. Everyone else has one, I dont, she muttered.

Sweetheart, Im right here, Molly said, scooping Poppy up. Im your grandma, and Ive got you.

Poppy clutched Molly, resting her head on the older womans shoulder. Gran, will you tell me the story about the rooster and the little fox?

Of course, love. Ill tuck you in and spin the tale right away, Molly replied.

I gave Emma a wave as I left the kitchen, and she met my eyes with a silent, weary nod. May the good Lord keep you healthy, Gran, so you can raise this little one. Maybe Mum will change her mind yet. Life has a way of throwing curveballs.

I once knew a similar tale from back in the day when a lass had a baby with a bloke and never mentioned it. A year later, a medical emergency forced the truth out. When the father found out hed been left in the cold, he walked out, saying a mother like that wasnt fit for his future kids.

We all cling to hope that things will turn out better, even when the world seems a bit of a circus.