З життя20 хвилин ago

Came Home Early: A Heavily Pregnant Wife Surprises Her Husband, but Instead of a Warm Welcome, She’s Sent Shopping for Beef and Left Waiting on the Street While He Cleans the Flat

Returned Home Early Tuesday, 7th March Are you at the bus stop? Toms voice shot up sharply on the phone....

З життя21 хвилина ago

The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! They had a huge fight and didn’t speak for half a year—until Lida confessed to Svetka her romance with Edward Boris. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course, he’d never leave his wife—not that type! So for now, she’d remain his lover. — So you’re shacking up with him while his wife is dying in the next room? — her friend was appalled. — Do you even see how vile that is? Or are you that blinded by his money—if he’s even got it? — Trust you to never say a kind word, — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but she barely felt guilty—well, perhaps just a bit. She cared for Tamara with real diligence, and since her affair with Edward Boris began, she took on all the housework too. After all, a man needs more than just a woman in his bed—he wants a good meal, crisp shirts, a clean flat. Lida thought her lover was very content, and she was enjoying her life too. She barely noticed Edward had stopped paying her for caring for his wife. Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! Don’t listen! — the widower protested. — Well, well, I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them — Tamila’s stare was fierce. — Now it all makes sense. And you, my dear son-in-law, don’t forget who owns this flat? Edward froze. — So, I want you out of here within the week. No—within three days. Tamila turned to leave, then paused at Lida. — And you, standing there like you expect a prize? Get out! Lida bolted from the flat, realising there’d be no money for her—not now. Back to the market again; there’d always be work there… **The Carer’s Devotion: Betrayal Behind Closed Doors in Suburban England**

A Carer for My Wife What do you mean? Linda could hardly believe what she was hearing. Where am I...

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The Summerhouse Standoff: A Daughter Takes Back What’s Hers

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Even the Good Ones Get Left Behind

A fine woman can be left behind too In the looking glass, Alice saw herselfa lovely woman of thirty-five with...

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The Long-Awaited Granddaughter Natalia Michaels had been persistently calling her son, who had set off yet again for another stint at sea. But there was still no connection. “Oh, what a mess you’ve made, son!” she sighed anxiously, dialing his number once more. No matter how many times she called, she knew she wouldn’t get through until he reached the next port—and that could be ages. And with all this going on! For the second night in a row, Natalia couldn’t sleep—this was the trouble her son had caused! * * * This story truly began some years earlier, when Michael hadn’t yet dreamed of working long-haul jobs at sea. He was already a grown man, but relationships with women just wouldn’t work out—none of them seemed to meet his mysterious standards! Natalia watched with a heavy heart as her son’s promising relationships with perfectly nice, respectable girls—at least, to her mind—kept falling apart. “You’re impossible!” she’d say to him. “Nothing ever pleases you! What woman is ever going to meet your demands?” “I don’t understand your complaints, Mum. You just want a daughter-in-law, and you don’t even care what kind of person she is.” “It does matter! I just want her to love you, and to be decent!” He would respond with silence—something that infuriated Natalia. How was it that the son she’d raised, who used to cry in her lap as a little boy, now behaved as if he knew more about life than she did? Who was the adult here? “What on earth was wrong with Claire?” she would erupt. “I already told you.” “Well… Claire might have been a bad example, but there’s always someone else. You said she wasn’t honest with you—though I still don’t fully understand…” “Mum! I don’t think we should discuss the details. Claire’s not someone I want to spend my life with.” “And Sophie?” “No, not Sophie either,” her son would reply calmly. “And Rachel? She was a lovely girl—quiet, home-loving, sweet. She would always ask if she could help around the house. Isn’t that right?” “You’re right, Mum. She was sweet. But it turned out she never really loved me.” “And you?” “Probably not, either.” “What about Emily?” “Mum!” “What do you mean, ‘Mum’? You’re impossible to please! You’re turning into a playboy! Why can’t you just settle down, find a wife, have children?” “Let’s stop this pointless conversation!” Michael would finally snap, and storm off somewhere. “He’s all his father—so stubborn and insistent!” Natalia would fume with frustration. Time passed, girlfriends came and went, but the cherished dream of seeing her son happily settled, and of cuddling grandchildren, never materialised. Then Michael changed careers entirely—an old friend invited him to work on the ships, and Michael agreed. Natalia tried to talk him out of it, to no avail. “Mum, it’s great pay! Do you have any idea how much the lads make? We’ll be set for life!” “What do I care about your salary if you’re off somewhere all the time and I never see you? I’d rather you started a family!” “Well I need to provide for that family first! When there are kids, I won’t be able to go to sea—I’ll need to raise them. So I’ll save up now while I can, and then do the rest!” Michael really did earn well. After his first voyage, he refurbished the flat; after the second, he opened a bank account and handed Natalia a card. “That’s so you’ll never want for anything!” “I already don’t want for anything! I just wish for grandchildren—the years are slipping by! I’m getting old!” “Oh, don’t be daft, you’re not old! You’ve still got years till retirement!” her son scoffed. Natalia didn’t touch the money. She had her modest pharmacist’s wage, which was plenty for her simple needs. “Let it sit there, as it should. Michael won’t notice anyway. Someday he’ll check and be surprised at what a thrifty mother he’s got!” she’d think. And so they lived for several years. On his short visits home, Michael made up for lost time—meeting friends, going out, partying, and dating girls her mother never even met. When she brought it up, he’d answer shortly and harshly. “This way you won’t fret later about me not marrying any of them. I have no intention of marrying girls like that, Mum!” Natalia found it hurtful, especially when her son accused her of being too trusting. “You always see the best in people, Mum! You hardly knew my so-called fiancées. They were on best behaviour for you, but that’s not what they were really like.” His words stung—being trusting apparently made her naïve, even foolish. He had called her foolish, really! But then she saw him with a girl—Natalia couldn’t resist and went straight over. Michael, a grown man, even blushed. But a mum is a mum—he had to introduce her. Natalia liked Millie straight away: tall, slim, curly-haired, pleasant in looks and manners. Seeing such a pretty woman with her son, Natalia immediately forgave him everything. “Maybe he was just unlucky before! Maybe it’s good he left all those others—he’d have never met such a lovely one otherwise!” she thought. Their romance lasted through Michael’s entire break, and, with some nudging, Millie visited several times. Natalia was delighted—Millie was talkative, clever, and easy company. But when Michael left for his next tour, Millie simply vanished. “We’re not in touch anymore. And you shouldn’t be either,” Michael said, and left. Natalia fretted for ages about what had happened, but couldn’t discover anything. * * * A year went by. Through several visits home, Michael remained curt and cold when asked about the sweet girl. “For heaven’s sake, what was wrong with this one? What about Millie?” Natalia finally demanded. “Mum, that’s my business. If it’s over, it’s for a good reason. Please, stay out of my life!” Natalia nearly burst into tears. “But Michael, I just care about you!” “Don’t! And again—I don’t want you speaking to Millie! And stop nagging me!” Soon, Michael set off to sea again, and, with a heavy heart, Natalia returned to her usual routine during his absence. Then, one day, a young woman came into the pharmacy to buy baby formula. It was Millie! She was embarrassed, looking away, easily flustered as she tended gently to a child in her stroller. “Millie! I’m so glad to see you! Michael never explained anything—just left and told me not to ask!” Natalia burst out. “Did he?” Millie replied sadly. “Well, so be it.” Natalia grew anxious. “Tell me, dear, what happened between you two? I know my son—he’s a handful. Did he hurt you?” “It doesn’t matter… I don’t hold it against him. Well, we have errands to run…” “Pop by again sometime! Even just to work—my shifts change all the time. We can have a chat!” And Millie did, the very next shift, buying baby formula again. Slowly, Natalia coaxed the story from her. Millie had fallen pregnant by Michael; he’d told her he wanted nothing to do with a child—he was away too much, never intended a serious relationship. Then he disappeared. “Went on tour, I suppose,” Millie shrugged. “But that’s okay! We won’t be a burden to anyone. Just the two of us.” Natalia nearly wept as she kneeled beside the stroller, gazing at the little girl. “So she’s… my granddaughter?” “It would seem so,” Millie said softly. “Her name’s Annie.” “Annie…” *** Natalia couldn’t sit still anymore. She pried the details out—Millie had nowhere much to live. She was from another town, renting a flat rarely affordable without a regular salary, and was considering moving back to her parents’. The thought of her granddaughter moving far out of reach made Natalia’s heart ache. “Move in with me, Millie—with Annie! She’s my granddaughter, I’ll help in every way! You’ll find a proper job, and Michael sends so much money, there’s nothing else to spend it on. Annie will have everything she needs!” “What would Michael say?” “Who cares? He’s made a mess, abandoned his child, said nothing to his own mother! Let me try and make amends. When he gets back, I’ll have words, I promise you!” Natalia shook her fist for emphasis. So they settled in together. Natalia spared no expense or effort for her granddaughter, even cutting back her shifts to spend more time with Annie. Millie found a job, leaving Annie with Natalia—often returning late, exhausted. “It’s been a long day—so many customers, and all so temperamental!” “Never mind! Go relax. I’ll bathe Annie and tuck her in myself!” Michael’s leave was drawing near. Natalia imagined greeting her son with Annie in her arms and planned to put him straight, while Millie was growing ever more anxious. But Natalia was only emboldened—she wanted to protect Millie and her little granddaughter. “Michael will come home and kick us out—I’m scared, Natalia! I shouldn’t have moved in. Tomorrow, I’ll look for a new flat.” “Kick you out? I won’t allow it! When he gets home, he’ll get a piece of my mind!” “No, really—he’ll just say I’m after your money. I don’t want anything from you. You’re just so kind! But I should go back to my parents. We’ll stay in touch, though!” “Oh, you’re not going anywhere! I own this flat, after all! I can let whoever I please live here. Michael won’t get a say!” No matter how much Millie protested, Natalia was adamant. She wasn’t letting her and her granddaughter go. “You know what? We should deed this flat over to Annie right away! So there’ll never be any questions. Michael may never get married, but Annie should have something. After all, Michael’s not on her birth certificate, is he?” Natalia looked at Millie, who avoided her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Millie whispered. “I just thought—” “I understand. It’s just, in case, it’ll be hard to prove she’s his daughter. Tomorrow, we’ll sort it all.” “No, Natalia, that isn’t necessary. My parents have a flat…” “Don’t talk me out of it! I’ve made up my mind!” They went to do it, but the solicitor refused. “For that, your son must first cede his rights to the property.” Natalia was annoyed, but with Michael due any day, she comforted herself that it would all be resolved soon. Meanwhile, Millie’s nerves grew tauter, and she started coming home late. “Where’re you always disappearing to?” Natalia asked one evening. Millie hesitated. “Well…work. I’m hoping for an advance, but my boss says I’ll only get it once I’ve finished what he’s assigned.” “Why do you need an advance? Are you short on money?” Millie quietly changed her clothes. Natalia, following her, noticed some of Millie’s things stuffed into a large bag behind the bed. “Are you moving out?” Millie stayed silent. “Are you really going to rent?” “Natalia, I have to go. Once Michael’s here…” “I won’t let you go, with Annie! Not a chance. And enough with these late shifts! I told you where the bank card is, and its code. Use it—you don’t need to work all hours. Annie’s going to forget what her mum looks like! If you want Michael to accept you, you have to learn to be a homemaker.” Millie said nothing. Michael was due home in two days. * * * Early on the morning he was to return, Natalia decided to peek into Millie and Annie’s room—just to watch them sleep. But Millie wasn’t there; only Annie, dozing peacefully under her blanket. “Where’s she gone? It’s only six a.m.—Millie never leaves this early!” Natalia went to the kitchen to finish preparing Michael’s favourite dishes, all the while rehearsing how she’d greet him with Annie and make him apologise to Millie. At last, the doorbell rang. Michael stood in the doorway, frozen at the sight of his mother holding a young child. “Hello, Mum. Whose child is this? What did I miss while I was away?” “You should know that yourself!” “I don’t get it,” Michael muttered, stepping inside. “So, tell me: what adventures have you had while I’ve been away?” “Adventures? I found my granddaughter, Annie! That’s what!” Natalia declared, staring him down. “What granddaughter? Do I have siblings I’ve never heard of?” Michael asked, perplexed. “Stop playing games, Michael! Millie told me everything! I didn’t raise you to act like this. I’m ashamed of you!” “Millie? What? First, I asked you not to contact her. Second, what does she—or this child—have to do with me?” Enraged, Natalia blurted out everything, scolding him all the while. Michael listened, exasperated. “Oh, Mum!” he finally exploded. “Are you going to call me foolish again? Go on then. But I—” “She’s not my child, Mum! Millie tricked you! You’re so— You’re just too trusting! Wait—she just wanted your money, I realised that long ago… what did she take?” “Nothing! You—” “Mum! Check your savings—Millie’s probably done a runner with them already!” “She just went to work!” Natalia insisted. They argued for hours, until Michael agreed to wait for Millie to return so everything could be sorted. They waited until late, during which Natalia recounted everything—how she’d met Millie, how they’d all lived together, even her plans to deed the flat to Annie. Michael kept insisting they’d been taken in, but— “I don’t believe you! Millie’s a lovely girl—” “She’s a charming con artist, more like. How could you be so naïve?” “Enough! When she comes back, you’ll see! I’ll play with my granddaughter till then.” “She’s not your granddaughter!” Natalia glowered at him. “In the end,” he added, “a DNA test will clear this up.” “Exactly what we’ll do!” Natalia declared, storming off. Night fell. Millie never came home. Nor did she the next day. Her phone rang unanswered. Natalia went to the address where she claimed to work—with Annie in tow—only to learn Millie had never worked there. No one recognised her from the photo. Natalia hurried home and, just as Michael advised, checked her savings. No money, no bank card—only Annie’s things were left. Reality crashed down. “How could this be? I can’t believe she’d just leave Annie and run!” “She could do worse,” Michael muttered. “People warned me. And then I heard from Fred that she robbed him blind… But I still brought her home to meet you. Then she turned up pregnant—from who knows who. Claimed it was mine… but everyone said she was seeing lots of blokes.” “How naïve I am!” Natalia sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have known what sort of woman she was!” “I didn’t want to upset you—you’re always too open-hearted.” “What now?” “We call the police! Thank goodness you didn’t manage to sign over the flat to Annie—otherwise you’d be out on the street.” They filed a report, but Millie had disappeared without a trace. Months passed, with no news. But she hadn’t managed to take much—a quick-thinking Michael had blocked the card. It was later found at a train station some distance away. While the search continued, Annie was allowed to stay with Natalia. She quit her job to care for the toddler, with Michael’s generous salary covering everything. DNA testing showed Michael wasn’t the father, but Natalia was already too attached to Annie to ever part with her. Together, she and her son decided to raise Annie as their own. With no trace of Millie, her parental rights were revoked in absentia. The legal process of establishing guardianship was long and arduous: Michael was denied, and Natalia had to return to work, organising childcare and navigating endless bureaucracy. Eventually, though, they found a rhythm. They became a family. A year later, Michael returned from another voyage—with a wife. “Mum, meet Sophie. She’s moving in with us.” “But what about—” Natalia faltered, gesturing to the nursery, unsure if Michael had told his new wife everything. But Sophie beamed. “So lovely to meet you, Natalia! Michael has told me all about everything—and, honestly, I admire what you did! If you’ll let me help raise Annie, I’d be delighted, because—” she glanced at Michael. “I’m ending my time at sea,” Michael said, “and we’ll formally adopt Annie together. Now we won’t be refused!” Natalia beamed with joy: “Oh, what happiness! Come in, the table’s set—I’ve cooked for an army! Let’s all have a proper meal together. I’m so happy!”—and she wiped a joyful tear from her cheek.

The Long-Awaited Granddaughter 15th April Mum keeps ringing my phone, desperate to get through. But theres no signal out here,...

З життя3 години ago

Grandson Not Wanted — Mum thinks Irina is fragile, — my husband finally blurted out. — She believes she needs more help because she doesn’t have a husband. But with us, everything seems… stable… — Stable? — Vera spun around. — Slava, I gained fifteen kilos after giving birth. My back is killing me, my knees are cracking. The doctor said: either I start looking after my health, or next year I won’t even be able to pick up Pavlik. I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, an hour and a half each time. You’re always at work, your schedule is all over the place. Who am I supposed to ask to look after our son? Your mother doesn’t want a grandson—she already has a granddaughter! Slava stayed silent. And really, who is there? Vera pressed her forehead against the cool window pane, watching as the tatty old Ford Fiesta pulled away from their drive. The red rear lights flickered a final goodbye and disappeared around the corner. The kitchen clock struck exactly seven o’clock. Nadya, his mum, had spent exactly forty-five minutes at theirs. In the living room, Slava tried to amuse their one-year-old son. Little Pavlik busily spun the plastic truck’s wheel, occasionally glancing at the door, where his grandma had just left. — Has she gone? — Slava poked his head into the kitchen, rubbing his aching neck. — Flown off, — Vera corrected, still not turning. — She said Pavlik was “getting fussy from tiredness”, and she didn’t want to mess up his routine. — He did whimper a bit when she picked him up, — Slava tried to smile, but it came out all wrong. — Of course he whimpered, he barely knows her. We haven’t seen her in three weeks. Three! Vera abruptly turned from the window and started piling dirty mugs in the sink. — Come on, Vera, — Slava stepped behind her, tried to hug her waist, but she deftly dodged, reaching for the sponge. — Mum’s just… she’s used to Lizzie. Lizzie’s older, four now, she’s easier. — Not easier, Slava. She’s just more interesting for your mum. Lizzie—Irina’s daughter. Irina—the favourite child. And us… we’re just… the spare parts family. Last Friday, the same scene all over again. Nadya popped in “for a minute”, brought a cheap plastic rattle for Pavlik, and then kept glancing at the door. Slava barely managed to say he’d be on site Saturday and it would be great if Mum could watch Pav for a couple of hours while Vera popped to the chemist and shops. — Oh, Slava, I can’t possibly! — Nadya flapped her hands. — Lizzie and I are off to the puppet theatre, then Irina wants me to have her for the whole weekend. Poor girl is so tired from work, she needs to get her private life sorted. Slava’s sister raised her child “by herself,” but “by herself” was a rather loose term. While Irina “found herself” and rotated through boyfriends, Lizzie would spend weeks with Granny. Granny picked her up from nursery, took her to ballet, bought designer snowsuits, and knew all the dolls’ names in her bedroom. — Did you see her post? — Vera nodded toward the phone on the table. — Have a look at what your mum uploaded. Slava reluctantly picked it up, scrolled. Photos scrolled by: Lizzie eating ice cream, Granny pushing her on the swing, them together playing with Play-Doh on Saturday night. Caption: “My greatest joy, my darling girl.” — She spent the entire weekend with them, — Vera bit her lip, fighting back tears. — With us—ten minutes! With them—bliss! Slava, Pavlik’s only a year old. He’s her grandson. Your son. Why does she treat them so differently? Slava said nothing—he didn’t know what to say. He suddenly remembered how his mum rang last month, almost in tears: “The tap’s burst and the whole place is flooding!” He dashed across town in the night to fix it. He remembered covering a payday loan for his mum, who’d taken it to buy Irina a new phone for her birthday. Remembered slogging every weekend in May digging Granny’s garden, while his sister and niece sunbathed on loungers. — Let’s ask Mum one more time, — Slava suggested uncertainly. — I’ll speak to her, explain it’s about your health, not a whim. Vera said nothing. She knew nothing good would come of it. *** The conversation happened Tuesday evening. Slava put his phone on speaker so Vera could hear everything. — Hi Mum. Listen, it’s about Vera. She needs to go to the gym, doctor’s orders. Her back is really bad… — Oh, Slava, what gym? — Nadya’s voice bounced cheerily through the phone, Lizzie’s laughter in the background. — She can do exercises at home. Eat fewer buns and her back’ll be fine. — Mum, it’s not up for debate. Doctor’s said: exercise and physio. Could you watch Pavlik on Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to eight? I’ll drive you back each time. Silence on the line. — Slava, you know my routine. I pick Lizzie up from nursery at five. Then we’ve got classes, then a walk in the park. Irina works late, she depends on me. I can’t leave Lizzie on her own so Vera can swan about in the gym! — Mum, Pasha’s your grandson too. He needs you. You see him once a month! — Don’t start. Lizzie’s a little girl, she looks up to me, she loves me. Pasha’s still a baby. He doesn’t notice a thing. When he’s older, we’ll bond. Right now I’m busy, we’re about to paint. All right, bye then. Slava slowly replaced the phone on the table. — Did you hear that? So my son needs to earn her attention? He has to reach some level before Grandma notices him? — Slava, I knew she’d say that… — Well, I knew! — Vera snapped. — Ever since the day we got out of hospital, and she was two hours late because Lizzie urgently needed new tights! Slava, I don’t care what she thinks about me. Fat, lazy, whatever. But I do care for Pashka. One day he’ll ask: “Mum, why is Granny Nadya always with Lizzie, and never with me?” What am I supposed to say then? That his aunt is the golden child, and his dad’s just a wallet and handyman for his own mum? Slava began pacing the kitchen. After ten frenzied minutes, he suddenly stopped. — Remember the kitchen renovation we planned for her? Vera nodded. They’d put money aside for six months to surprise Nadya for her big birthday. Slava had found the cupboards, the workers, brokered a deal on the price. It was a decent sum—the same as a year’s pass at Vera’s dream gym with personal trainer and pool. — No renovation, — Slava said squarely. — Tomorrow I’m cancelling the order. — Are you serious? — Vera stared wide-eyed. — Dead serious. If my mum only has the time and energy for one grandchild, then she can fix her own problems too. Let Irina help her sort out the house, fix the taps, haul the potatoes, clear the debts. We’ll hire you a nanny for your gym sessions. *** Next morning, Nadya called herself. — Slava, darling… You said you’d come this week and look at the extractor fan? It’s out again, smoke everywhere! And Lizzie misses you—“Where’s my uncle Slava?” she keeps asking. Slava, sitting at his desk, closed his eyes. Once he’d have dropped everything and rushed to B&Q. Now… — I’m not coming, Mum, — he said calmly. — What do you mean, not coming? — instantly the wounded voice. — And the fan? I’ll get smoked out! — Ask Irina. Or her new boyfriend. I’m busy now—Vera’s health comes first, so all my free time is booked solid. I’ll be with my son. — Over this nonsense? — his mum scoffed. — You’re abandoning your mother because of your wife’s little whims? — I’m not abandoning anyone. Just setting my priorities. Same as you. Your priorities: Lizzie and Irina. Mine: Pasha and Vera. Seems pretty fair. — Are you being rude to me? — she gasped. — I did everything for you! Raised you! Made you the man you are! — Did everything, Mum? — Slava said quietly. — Helped Irina with my money? Gave her time to chill while I broke my back in your garden? You know what, we were thinking… that kitchen suite we were going to give you for your birthday… I’ve cancelled it. The money’s going to our family—we need a nanny since Pavlik’s granny is too busy for her own grandson. Three seconds later, she was screaming down the line: — How DARE you! I’m your mother! I gave my whole life for you! And now this, because of that Vera of yours! Lizzie’s the real orphan here, she needs all the love she can get! Your Pasha’s already living the good life! Why do you think I’m supposed to love him too? My heart belongs to Lizzie, she’s everything to me! Ungrateful! Don’t call me again! Don’t you dare set foot in my house! Slava quietly pressed the red button. His hands shook, but inside he felt oddly light. He knew this row was just the beginning. Now his mother would ring Irina, who would bombard them with angry messages about being selfish and cold. There’d be tears, curses, emotional blackmail. And there were. That evening, when he got home, Vera met him at the door. She already knew—his mum had left her a five-minute furious voicemail, “snake in the grass” being the politest phrase. — Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? — she whispered, when Pavlik was asleep and they sat down for dinner. — She is your mum, after all. — A real mum loves all her children and grandchildren, Vera. Not just her favourites, while using the others for errands. I turned a blind eye for too long. Thought, well, “that’s just the way she is.” But when she said she didn’t care about your health or Pasha because she’s got “Lizzie’s schedule”… No. Enough. ** The rows went on. Irina and Nadya, cut off from handouts, rang Slava and Vera non-stop: shouting, begging, threatening, trying guilt and shaming. 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