**The Unfavoured Grandson**
Granny never cared for little Walter, never acknowledged him.
“Hes not one of ours,” Mrs. Anne Harrison would mutter to the other women in the village shop.
“Annie, how dyou mean? Look at himspittin image of your Jack!”
“I just cant help it, love. My head knows hes my boys son, but my heart wont accept it. Now, my daughters childrenthose are my grandchildren. But from my son? Cant bring myself to love the lad. And he dont even live with us. Oh, he runs about, chatters away, Gran, Gran!but no. When I look at him, all I see is that side of the family, not my own flesh and blood.”
“Aye, happens more than youd think,” another woman chimed in. “My late mumLord rest herdoted on my Milly, kissed her, spoiled her rotten. But my brothers kids? Hardly glanced at em. Course, hed take offence, and shed say, Dont take it to heart, son. A daughters childyou know theyre yours. A sons? Well you understand.”
“Same in my house!”
“Mine too.”
“Goodness, Im no better. My daughters lad? Handsome as can be, dimples and all. My husband and I cant get enough of him. But my sons boy? Just cant warm to him. Not just his looksalways snot-nosed, grubby. I tell his mum to keep him clean, and she snaps back, When have I got the time? Your son wants his meals hot and his floors scrubbed. When am I supposed to mind the boy?”
I tell her, what about the others? Others work and still manage. Back in my day, wed be up at four for milking. Knead the dough, leave it to rise, stoke the fireall before dawn. Then off to the cows.
One morning, I woke young Lucy, half-asleep on her feet, and left her with her grandad, frail as he was. Just had to pop homesomething in my bones told me to check.
And there she was, bless her, fast asleep, dough spilling over the table, hair in her face. And him? Useless. Dad, what were you doing? Doing what? Watching the bread! Why? It wont run off. Then he wanders off in his vest!
The chatter soon shifted from sons children to other things. Mrs. Harrison slipped away, realising she wasnt alonemany women felt the same about their sons children.
Yet Walter adored his gran. He thought, somehow, it brought him closer to his dad, gone up north years ago, when Walter was small. Off to work the new fields, never coming back. Still, Walter waited, wrote letters, brought them to Gran.
Mum said the old witch was the only one who knew where his no-good father had vanished to. But Walter knew she loved him deep down. Just bitter he hadnt taken her with him.
Where would he have put her? And Walter? She ought to understand.
Sometimes Mum screamed that Walter and his father had ruined her life. Shouldve married Johnny Spires, had his babies, lived like a queen.
Walter once rolled cheese in butter with the toy lorry Gran gave himoh, how Mum shrieked! Tried to toss it, but he clung tight. Felt like Dad had sent it. Probably hadthat lorry wasnt cheap. Mum ranted, Chuck it!
Walter never saw the appeal of her dream life. What was so wrong with theirs?
Ah, but when Dad came back, theyd outshine the Spires lot. Mumd stop regretting Johnny.
Once, Walter visited Grancousin Maggie was there, spoiled rotten.
“Gran bought me a dolly!” she taunted, sticking out her tongue. Walter didnt care for dolls.
“Shes making me pancakes with cream!”
“For everyone,” Gran muttered. Still loved him, reallyput the brat in her place.
Walter stayed for tea, pancakes, asked if she needed help, then left.
“Ugh, finally gone,” Maggie sneered as he shut the door.
“Quiet, you!” Gran snapped.
Walters heart warmed. She did love him.
Meanwhile, Gran scolded Maggie: “What nonsense! Hes not even out the door, and youre flapping your gums. Ill tan you with nettles!”
“You wont!”
“Oh?”
“You love me! Im your precious, perfect granddaughter!” Maggie clambered into her lap.
“You little imp! My darling girl!”
***
Dad never came back. Mum married Uncle Colin SpiresJohnnys cousin. Decent bloke, never mistreated Walter. Didnt love him like his own two with Mum, but treated him fair. Even GranColins mumwas kind.
Life was alright. Walter still visited Gran. Stopped writing letters, though.
Before enlisting, he learned Dad had a new family up north. Gran visited often.
It stung. “Why didnt you tell me?” he asked. “I waited, wrote”
Gran waved him off. “Childish nonsense. Your letters are in the drawer. As for your dadhe paid good child support. Your mum raised another mans kids on it.”
Walter got drunk that nightfirst and last time. Raged at Mum, Gran, Dad.
Mum screeched, called him a drunk, a disgracetill Uncle Colin dragged him to the garage. There, Walter wept. Told him how schoolmates mocked himfatherless, a bastard. How he fought to prove he had a dad, two grans.
Colin gripped his neck. “Listen, lad. Youre my son. Maybe not by blood, but ten years under one roof? Youre mine.”
They sat, foreheads pressed, crying.
“Son.”
“Dad.”
Mum nearly stormed in, saw the open whisky, then quietly shut the door. Told the younger ones, “Leave them. Mens talk.”
Before the army, Walter said goodbye to Gran. Lips pursed, she blessed him, wished him luck. Maggie sneered, “Thank God. No more paying for someone elses brat.” Gran stayed silent.
***
Service flew by. Walter returned a manMum and Dad (Colin) proud as punch. Since that night in the garage, hed called him nothing else.
Gran TessaColins mumdoted on him too. Skilled lad, Walter. Fixed her fence straight off.
Maggie, now living with Gran, barred him. “Dads got his own family. Who knows if youre even his?”
Gran said nothing. Walter never went back.
He married, worked hard. Parents helped buy a house in town. Moved Gran Tessa in. Bought a car, had two kids. Life was good.
Then his back gave out. Dad had warned himlifting too heavy. Now he shuffled down the hospital corridor like an old man.
Raised voices. A woman shrilled:
“Not my problem! Youre the doctorsfix her!”
“Miss, with proper care at home, shed recover”
“Oh, sure! Me, changing bedpans? No!”
“No grounds to keep Mrs. Harrison. If you refuse, its the care home”
“Shame on you, Maggie!” another voice cut in. “She raised you, spoiled you”
“Sign the papers,” Maggie said coldly.
Walter stepped in. “No need. Ill take her.”
“And you are?”
“Her grandson.”
“Proof?”
Walter smirked. “Oh, aye.”
Maggie scoffed. “Oho, look whos here. Smell the inheritance? Tough luckGran left me everything.” She stormed out.
Walter took Gran home. Mum shook her head, remembering how hed once believed Gran loved himwhile shed complained she couldnt stand the boy.
Gran thrived. Walked again. Begged forgiveness, doted on his kids.
When her time came, Maggie didnt even visit. Mum and Dad sent moneywhich Maggie kept. No matter.
Villagers gossiped: “So the unfavoured grandson took her in.”
Those who played favourites paused. What if they ended up like Mrs. Harrison?
“Extra sweets, Cathy. For my grands.”
***
So it goes. Shed poured her soul into the granddaughterher daughters child. The grandson? Nothing. Even seeing her son in him, she couldnt love him.
Yet in the end, it was he who held her hand.
Lifes funny that way.
