The Granddaughter of Granny

There was a mother and there was a daughter, and the daughter turned out to be my friend Emmas little girl.

Our family had gone on a holiday to Cornwall, and the trip ended with Emma discovering she was pregnant. A few months later she gave birth to a sweettempered brownhaired baby with dark eyes, and we named her Katie.

Emma kept working, and I looked after Katie while the little one slept, but in the evenings Emma would slip out for a drink or a night on the town to unwind from the grind. Sometimes she brought friends home. Her mother knew what was happening but never pried.

When Katie turned five, Emma announced she was moving in with a new boyfriend, a man who still didnt know about his stepdaughter. She asked me to let Katie stay with me. I gave up my job and survived on a meagre state pension, while Emma occasionally popped a few quid into my account.

Katie missed her mum terribly. She would stare out the kitchen window, flinch at every creak in the hallway, and pull at her sleeves whenever the house settled. Emmas visits grew rarer, and she sent money by bank transfer instead.

One evening she decided to surprise Katie. She bought a few sweets and a little present, and arrived just as Katie, fresh from a bath, was settled in her pajamas watching Goodnight Sweetheart. The moment Katie heard her mums voice she leapt from the sofa, threw her arms around Emmas neck and shouted, Mum, Ive missed you so much! I love you!

Im sorry, love, but youre hurting Mum, I said, trying to calm her. I love you too.

Katie clung tighter, and I struggled to free her tiny hands. She then grabbed at my ankles, pleading, Are you really going to stay? You wont leave me again, will you? Were together forever?

Hold on, Katie, Emma murmured, Ill be back soon to pick you up. I have to go now.

I stood in the kitchen, tears streaming down my face, while Emma fumbled for her tablet to look up a remedy for the headache shed gotten.

She waved goodbye, slamming the front door. Katie sat on the floor, hands on her knees, staring blankly at the wall.

Your mum doesnt love you, shes left you. I dont have a dad either. Everyone else has one, but I dont, she whispered.

My dear, Im here for you, I said, scooping her up.

She hugged my shoulder and asked, Grandma, can you tell me the story about the little rooster and the sly fox?

Of course, love, I replied, settling her onto the couch. Ill tuck you in and spin the tale for you.

I gave Emma a nod as she left, and she met my eyes with a silent wish for my health, hoping I could raise Katie well. Perhaps Emma would change her mind; life does twist in strange ways.

I remember a similar story from back in the day, when a woman hid a child from her partner. A year later a medical emergency forced the truth out, and the man, upon learning how shed treated his child, threw her out, saying he needed no mother like her for his future family.

We keep hoping for better days.