Grandma, Mummy said we have to put you in a care home. I heard my parents talkinga child wouldnt make up something like that.
Elizabeth Mary strolled through the lanes of a quiet village near Bath, on her way to fetch her granddaughter from school. Her face glowed with joy, and her heels tapped lightly on the pavement, just as they had in her distant youth when life seemed an endless melody. Today was specialshe had finally secured her own little flat. A bright, spacious one-bedroom in a new building, something shed dreamed of for years. Nearly two years of scrimping, saving every penny. The sale of her old cottage in the countryside had barely covered half the cost; her daughter, Margaret, chipped in the rest, though Elizabeth vowed to repay her. A widow of seventy could manage on half her pension, while the youngher daughter and son-in-lawneeded the money more, with their whole lives ahead.
In the schoolyard waited her granddaughter, Emily, a second-year girl with plaits. The child dashed to her grandmother, and together they walked home, chatting about nothing in particular. The eight-year-old was the light of Elizabeths life, her greatest treasure. Margaret had given birth late, nearly at forty, and then begged her mother for help. Elizabeth hadnt wanted to leave the cottage where every corner held a memory of the past, but for the sake of her daughter and granddaughter, she gave it all up. She moved closer, took care of Emilycollected her from school, stayed with her until the parents returned from work, then retreated to her snug little flat. The deed was in Margarets namejust a precaution, since the elderly are easily swindled, and life is unpredictable. Elizabeth didnt protest: to her, it was only paperwork.
Granny, Emily suddenly interrupted, eyes wide, Mummy said we have to put you in a care home.
Elizabeth froze, as if doused in icy water.
A care home? Darling, what do you mean? she asked, feeling cold seep into her bones.
Yes, where all the old grandmas and grandpas live. Mummy told Daddy youd be happy there, with no worries, Emily murmured, but each word struck like a hammer.
But I dont want to go! Id rather rest in peace, Elizabeth replied, her voice trembling as a storm raged in her mind. How could a child say such a thing?
Granny, dont tell Mummy I told you, Emily whispered, clinging to her. I heard them talking at night. Mummy said shes already arranged it with a lady, but theyll only take you when Im a bit older.
I promise, my love, Elizabeth assured her, unlocking the front door. Her hands shook; her legs wobbled. I feel strangemy heads spinning. Ill lie down for a bit. Change your clothes, will you?
She sank onto the sofa, her heart pounding as the world around her blurred. Those words, spoken in that small voice, shattered everything. It was truea terrifying, unshakable truth no child could invent. Three months later, Elizabeth packed her things and returned to the countryside. Now she rents a tiny cottage there, saving up for a new place to call her own. Old friends and distant relatives offer kindness, but inside, theres only emptiness and hurt.
Some whisper behind her back: Shes to blameshouldve talked to Margaret, cleared the air. But Elizabeth stands firm.
A child doesnt make up these things, she says, voice steady, staring into space. Margarets actions speak for themselves. She hasnt even called, hasnt asked why I left.
Perhaps her daughter understood, but she stays silent. And Elizabeth waits. Waits for a call, an explanation, any word at allbut she wont dial the number herself. Pride and grief chain her. She feels no guilt, yet her heart breaks with this silence, this betrayal from those closest. Every day, she wonders: Is this all thats left of her love and sacrifice? Is her old age doomed to loneliness and being forgotten?
