“Mum, maybe dont come over today, alright?” My daughters voice was calm, almost casual, as she slipped on her trainers by the door. “I appreciate everything, really, but right now its just not needed. Stay home, rest.”
I was already holding my bag, buttoning up my coat, ready to look after my granddaughter as usual while she headed off to her yoga class. Normally, everything ran like clockworkId arrive, mind the little one, then return to my modest studio flat. But today, something was off. Her words froze me in place, as if Id been struck by lightning.
What had I done wrong? Had I put the baby down wrong? Chosen the wrong onesie? Fed her at odd times? Or had they just looked at me differently?
The truth, though, was simplerand harder.
It was her in-laws. Wealthy, well-connected people whod decided to visit daily. With solemn smiles, theyd unpack boxes of gifts and settle at the tablethe one theyd bought themselves. The whole house was their gift to the young couple.
The furniture was theirs. The tea was theirssome posh loose-leaf blend theyd brought over, now stashed in the cupboard like they owned the place. And now, it seemed, the granddaughter was theirs too. As for me Well, I was the afterthought.
Mea railway worker with thirty years of service, a simple woman with no titles or jewels, no fancy hairdos or trendy clothes.
“Mum, look at you,” my daughter had said. “Youve put on weight. Your hairs gone grey. You look frumpy. Those coats of yoursso drab. And you smell like the Tube. Do you understand?”
I stayed silent. What could I say?
After she left, I stood in front of the mirror. The reflection showed a tired woman with creases at the corners of her mouth, a shapeless coat, and round, flushed cheeks burning with shame. The self-loathing hit me like a sudden downpour on a clear day. I stepped outside just to breathe, and then it camethe tight throat, the stinging eyes. Bitter, traitorous tears spilled down my face.
So I went back to my little flatmy studio in a quiet part of town. I sat on the sofa and picked up my old mobile, still stuffed with photos. Here was my daughterso tiny. Here, with a ribbon in her hair on her first day of school. Graduation, the diploma, the wedding. And here, my granddaughtersmiling in her cot.
My whole life in these pictures. Everything Id lived for. Everything Id poured myself into. And if I was no longer needed, well perhaps thats how it had to be. My time was up. Id played my part. The important thing now was not to be a burden. Not to ruin their lives with my shabby appearance. If they needed me, theyd call. Maybe.
Not long after, the phone rang.
“Mum” Her voice was tight. “Could you come over? The nanny left, the in-laws well, theyve shown their true colours. And Andrews gone off with his mates somewhere, and Im completely alone.”
I paused. Then answered evenly, “Sorry, love. Not right now. I need to sort myself out. Become presentable, as you said. Maybe another time.”
I hung up and, for the first time in ages, smiled. Sadlybut with pride.
