Lost Track of the Grandchildren? Now It’s Time to Face the Consequences!

I still remember those days, long before the world grew too swift, when my granddaughter Emma asked me to keep an eye on her boys. Mum, could you look after the lads? she pleaded, eyes wide. I smiled at Oliver, seven, and Harry, five, as they thumped their sneakers in the hallway.

Of course, love, I replied. Dont worry, well have a grand time. Emma kissed the boys on the heads, slipped out the door, and I ran a hand through my grey hair, tied back in a neat knot, before turning to the two little rascals. Oliver was already tugging Harry toward the sittingroom where the telly stood.

Grandma, can we watch cartoons? shouted the younger one.

Certainly, darling, I said. But first wash your hands and have a bite. Ive made your favourite cheese scones. Their faces lit up, and they raced off to the bathroom. I drifted into the kitchen, where a plate of golden scones waited on the hob. Cooking for the grandchildren had always given me a sense of purpose; since retiring three years earlier Id often taken the boys in while Emma and my son Paul were at work.

I set the table, thinking back to a phone call the day before with my old friend Sarah. Shed moved to Brighton four years ago, nearer the sea, leaving her flat in London to her daughter Alice. I never liked Alice much; shed grown into a spoiled, selfsufficient twentytwoyearold, claiming to be a blogger or something else online, earning a tidy sum evident from her designer clothes and frequent trips to Europe.

Grandma, is there any cream? Oliver called from the kitchen.

Its in the fridge, sunshine. Want to fetch it yourself or need a hand?

Ill do it! he declared proudly, swinging the fridge door wide.

We devoured the scones, slathered with clotted cream, while I told them about the autumn woods and how, as a child, Id walked with their grandfather hunting mushrooms. Harry listened with his mouth open, Oliver peppered me with questions. After breakfast they darted off to the television, and I set about washing the dishes.

The telephone rang. It was Sarah.

Hey, Maggie! Im in London for three days. Come over to Alices flat tomorrow; well have tea and a proper chat. Ive missed you terribly!

I felt a surge of happiness; it had been a year since Id seen her face, only video calls in between.

Id love to, Sarah, but the boys are staying with me. Emma left them for the weekend, I replied.

Bring them along! The flats huge, therell be room for everyone.

I hesitated. I wanted to see Sarah, yet the thought of hauling two energetic youngsters through Londons streets wasnt appealing.

Alright, I said finally. Ill tell the lads to behave.

The next morning I dressed the boys a little fancierOliver in a blue jumper with a tiny car, Harry in a green hoodie bearing a dinosaur. I threw on my best coat, a coffeecoloured woollen piece Id saved for special occasions.

Boys, were off to visit my friend. Her daughter Alice lives there, and she has many expensive things, so we must not touch anything without asking, understood?

Got it, Grandma! they chorused.

Sarahs flat greeted us with the scent of expensive perfume and the gleam of freshly painted walls. She embraced me, kissed my cheeks, and looked slimmer, bronzed by southern sunshine.

Blimey, Maggie, youre a trooper for coming! Come in, come in. Alice just stepped out for a bit of business.

We moved into a spacious kitchen with a central island and polished bar stools. The boys clung to me, eyes darting around the delicate glassware, porcelain vases, and gleaming appliances.

Heres some juice and biscuits, Sarah placed on the table. Feel free to watch the telly in the lounge; there are plenty of childrens channels.

Oliver and Harry exchanged a glance, grabbed their glasses, and trotted off. I watched them go, feeling a warm reassurance.

Dont worry, nothing there you can break, Sarah waved a hand. Tell me, how have you been?

We chatted about health, family, and the rising cost of livingtypical talk for two women well into their sixties.

Suddenly a crash echoed from the lounge, followed by Harrys frightened sobs. I sprang up, spilling my tea, and rushed into the room. A slim silver laptop lay shattered on the floor, its screen split in two. Oliver stood pale as a sheet, while Harry wailed, his cheeks smeared with tears.

We we wanted to watch cartoons, Oliver stammered. It was on the sofa, we thought

Just then Alice returned, her face twisting into fury at the sight of the broken device.

What on earth happened?! Thats my work MacBook! All my projects are on it! she shrieked.

Calm down, love, the children didnt mean it, Sarah tried to intervene.

Didnt mean it? I dont care! This is the latest model I bought a month ago for £2,500! Two thousand five hundred pounds! Alice roared, her voice rattling the windows.

The noise made my ears ache. Harry clung to me, sniffling; Oliver dropped his head, hiding his tears.

Ill pay for the damage, I whispered, voice trembling. Please forgive us.

Youll pay? When? Ill be waiting ten years for you to chip away at that from your pension! Alice snapped, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

Enough! Sarah cried, trying to soothe her daughter, but Alice turned her wrath on her.

This is your fault! You brought these little vandals into my home! I have deadlines, and now everythings ruined! she shouted.

I gathered the boys in my arms, holding them close.

Well go, I said, trying to keep my dignity. Ill transfer the money as soon as I can. Give me the account details.

Alice huffed, but eventually dictated her bank number. I wrote it down with shaking fingers. Sarah escorted us to the door, whispering, Dont take it personally, Maggie. Shes just on edge; her work is stressful.

I nodded, though inside a fire of shame and hurt burned. In the tube, the boys sat silent, pressed against me on either side. At home I served them soup and tucked them into bed.

That evening the children returned. Gathering my courage, I told Emma what had transpired.

Two thousand five hundred pounds, I repeated, looking at her. Emma, could you perhaps help a little? I understand the boys were mischievous, but

Emmas perfectly made-up face remained unreadable.

Margaret, youre an adult now. You took on the responsibility of looking after themown up to it. You failed to keep an eye on them, so you must pay the price, she said, her words cutting deep.

Her remark struck me like a dagger. I turned to Paul, who was silently putting the boys to bed.

Paul, I began.

Mum, Emmas right, he replied without meeting my eyes. You should have watched them more closely. This is on you.

My own family, the people I loved most, seemed to turn away.

I shuffled to the kitchen, sitting down at the table. My pension was £190 a month. Council tax took £70, food and medicine £80, leaving just £40, which I usually set aside for the grandchildrens birthdays. There was no other way out.

At the bank a young female adviser sympathetically nodded as she processed the paperwork. The interest rate was astronomically high, and the repayments would be £120 a month for three yearsmore than half my pension.

I sent the money to Alice the same day. She merely replied with a thumbsup emoji, no thanks.

A month passed. The boys never came again. Calls to Paul were shortwork, no time, the kids in school. He eventually admitted the grandchildren no longer wanted to visit; I could no longer afford gifts or tasty meals for them.

For Olivers birthday I could only manage a cheap construction set. Emma accepted it with a forced smile, as if Id handed her something indecent.

Thanks, Margaret. Weve bought him a game console anyway, so she muttered.

Sarah stopped answering my calls. Two weeks later she sent a message: Maggie, Im sorry, but because of this Ive fallen out with Alice. She says its my fault for inviting you. Lets not speak for now.

I sat in my tiny kitchen, phone screen glowing, receipts for electricity, gas, and a repair bill spread out, alongside a loan agreement. In the fridge lay a packet of milk, a loaf of bread, and a small bag of rice. My pension was a week away.

Neighbour Nina Ivanovna popped in to borrow some salt, stared at me and gasped. Maggie, why are you so pale? Are you ill?

No, Im fine. Just tired, I replied.

And the boys? I havent seen them at yours for ages.

The boys theyre fine. Growing up.

Nina left, and I remained in the dimming kitchen, refusing to turn the lights onto save what little I could. Somewhere beyond the walls a television played childrens laughter, but I sat alone, feeling no longer needed.

Once I was the one called uponto feed the grandchildren, to help on the garden, to attend the schools morning assembly when parents were busy. Now, the moment I stopped being convenient, I slipped quickly out of sight.