I’m Your Granddaughter

“Your granddaughter is here.”

“Your mum’s come to pick you up. Get your things together.”

Most kids in care dream of hearing those words. But Emily flinched as if shed been slapped.

“Come on, hurry up. What are you waiting for?”

Mrs. Thompson frowned, baffled by the girls lack of excitement. Life in a childrens home was no picnic. Some kids even ran away to the streets. Yet here was Emily, being taken back to her own family, and she looked anything but pleased.

“I dont want to go,” Emily muttered, turning towards the window. Her friend Lily shot her a sideways glance but stayed silent. She didnt get it eitherLily wouldve given anything to go home, but no one wanted her back.

“Emily, whats wrong?” Mrs. Thompson pressed. “Your mums waiting for you.”

“I dont want to see her. I dont want to go back.”

The other girls listened with interest, and Mrs. Thompson decided this wasnt a conversation for an audience.

“Come with me.”

She led Emily to an office and gave her a sympathetic look.

“Your mums made mistakes, I wont deny that. But shes trying to change. They wouldnt let her take you otherwise.”

“Think this is the first time?” Emily scoffed. “Ive been in care twice. Last time she took me back, she played the perfect mumhid the bottles, cleaned the flat, bought food, even got a job. When social services checked, everything looked spotless. Then they left, and she went right back to her old ways. She only wants me for the benefits.”

“Emily, I cant change that. But surely homes better than here?”

“Better?!” Emilys voice cracked. “Have you ever gone hungry? Worn threadbare trainers in freezing weather? Locked yourself in your room praying your mums drunk mates dont come knocking? Why wont they just kick her rights away?”

Tears welled up. She hated the care home, but at least she was fed, clothed, and safe. Home was a different story.

“I cant help you,” Mrs. Thompson sighed.

She pitied the girl. Sharp, brightunusual for someone in care. Maybe her mum had been the same once, before the drink took over. Seven years in the job, and Mrs. Thompson had never met a child who refused to go home.

“Cant I live on my own?” Emily asked. “Id get a job, rent a room.”

“Not till youre eighteen.”

“Im nearly sixteen! I can take care of myself!”

Mrs. Thompson agreedEmily was too grown for her age. But the law was clear.

“You need a guardian. Is there anyone else who could take you? Maybe petition for custody?”

“Theres no one. My nan was the only one who cared, and shes gone. Its just me now.”

“Your dad?”

“Dead. Drank himself to death.”

She said it flatly, like it was nothing. To her, it was.

“Any relatives on his side?”

Emily frowned. “Think his mums alive. Never met her. She cut him off. Cant blame herId have done the same.”

“Right,” Mrs. Thompson leaned forward. “Try living with your mum for now. Ill look into your nan. Deal?”

Emily nodded. What choice did she have?

Her mum put on a showsobbing, hugging, begging forgiveness. Emily stayed blank. She knew the act would drop the second they got home.

And it did. Day one, her mum held it together. Day two, she came back with a bottle.

Hell resumed. Her mum drank, lost her job, and Emily was back in the nightmare.

Then one night, a drunk bloke stumbled into her room. She fought him off, barely. Enough was enough.

Thankfully, Mrs. Thompson had given her a number. Emily called, shaking. “Its the streets or back to care.”

“I found your nan,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Ill talk to her. If she agrees, and her place checks out, she can get custody.”

Emily begged to come along. She didnt know her nan, but she prayed she wouldnt turn her away. Just two more years, then shed be free.

A woman in her sixties answered the doortall, elegant.

“What do you want?”

“Margaret Hayes?” Mrs. Thompson confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Im your granddaughter,” Emily blurted. No point dancing around it.

“What?”

“Your sons daughter.”

“I see. And what do you want?” Margarets tone was icy.

“Can we talk?” Mrs. Thompson cut in before Emily could speak again.

“Fine. But make it quick. Ive work soon.”

Margaret served tea, eyeing Emily like she was a stray cat. Mrs. Thompson explained the situation.

“Your granddaughter will go back into care unless you take her.”

“Why should I?”

“Well shes family.”

“I dont know her. Frankly, Id rather forget my son ever existed.”

“Margaret, shes living in awful conditions. You could”

Emily interrupted. “You dont know me, and I dont know you. Honestly? Id love to forget my parents too. But the law says I cant. I just need a place to stay till Im eighteen. Ill buy my own food, clothes, everything. The money youd get for fostering me? Keep it. I just need the paperwork sorted. If I had anyone else, I wouldnt be here.”

Mrs. Thompson shot Emily a warning look. But Margaret seemed impressed.

“People say addicts kids are slow. Clearly not. So youll stay two years, then leave?”

“Promise.”

“Fine. Rules: dont call me Nan, dont touch my things, no friends over. Understood?”

“Crystal.”

Social services visited Emilys mum again, this time filing to strip her of rights. Margaret filled out the forms and became Emilys guardian.

Emily played tough, but she was terrified. Two months of school left, no moneywhat if Margaret really didnt feed her?

But that first night, Margaret called her to the table. Proper home-cooked foodEmily hadnt eaten like that in years. Her mum barely cooked, and Emily never learned.

The next day, Margaret eyed Emilys battered trainers and sighed.

“Meet me after school. Were getting you decent clothes.” Her tone brooked no argument.

“Ive no money.”

“Ill pay. Easier than being embarrassed.”

Emily shrugged. Fine by her.

Margaret bought her piles of clothes, even asking her opinionunexpected.

A week later, Margaret summoned her.

“Hows school?”

“Alright.”

“Show me your grades.”

“We use an online system.” Emily suppressed a smile.

“Good grief. Papers not extinct yet. Fine, show me.”

Emilys grades were goodshed learned early that no one would hand her opportunities.

“Impressive,” Margaret said. “With marks like these, you should go to sixth form, then uni.”

“Yeah, if youve got parents to pay for it. I dont.”

“Listen,” Margaret cleared her throat. “Youre staying for sixth form. And uni. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Emily couldnt believe it. Shed wanted to stay in education, but it seemed impossible. Until now.

Slowly, the wall between them crumbled. Margaret asked about Emilys life, sometimes even about her sonbriefly, like she was ashamed to care.

Emily finished school, got into uniwith help from tutors Margaret hired. That summer, she found a job, ready to move into halls as agreed.

Then Margaret had a heart attack.

Emily found her collapsed at home, terrified she was dead.

Thankfully, Margaret recovered. When visiting hours started, Emily rushed in.

“Nan” She caught herself. “Sorry. Margaret, how are you?”

Margaret smiled, stroking Emilys hair.

“Call me Nan. Its nice. Ill be fine, just a long recovery.”

“Ill look after you! Ill stay till youre better!”

“I dont want to be a burden.”

“You took me in when you didnt have to. You gave me more than my mum ever did. Im staying, whether you like it or not.”

Margaret inhaled sharply, fighting tears.

“Fine. One condition.”

“What?”

“No student halls. Youre staying with me.”

Emily grinned. “Deal.” Then she hugged her nansomething shed wanted to do for years.