Mum, maybe dont come over today, yeah? my daughter said, her voice casual but firm, as she slipped on her trainers by the door. Thanks for everything, really, but right now its not the best time. Just stay home and rest.
Id already grabbed my bag and buttoned up my coat, ready to look after my granddaughter like always while she went to her yoga class. Normally, it was clockworkId arrive, take care of the little one, then head back to my modest studio flat. But today, something was off. Those words hit me like a bolt of lightning.
What had I done wrong? Did I not put the baby down properly? Use the wrong onesie? Feed her at odd times? Or had they just looked at me differently?
The truth, though, was simpler and so much worse.
It was her in-laws. Well-off, polished people whod decided to start visiting their granddaughter every day. With their stiff upper lips, theyd bring fancy gift boxes and sit at the dining tablethe one *they* bought. The whole house was their gift to the young couple, really.
The furnitures theirs. The teas theirssome posh loose-leaf blend they brought over, and now they *own* the place. And suddenly, the granddaughters theirs too. As for me? Well. Im just extra.
Me, a railway worker with 30 years of serviceno fancy titles, no jewellery, no designer clothes or expensive haircuts.
Mum, look at you, my daughter said. Youve put on weight. Your hairs gone grey. You look a bit rough. Those coats you wearso frumpy. And you smell like the Tube. You get it, dont you?
I stayed silent. What could I even say?
After she left, I stood in front of the mirror. And yeahthere she was. A tired-looking woman with crows feet, a lumpy coat, and cheeks flushed with shame. The self-loathing came on like a sudden downpour on a clear day. I stepped outside just to breathe, and then it hit me: the lump in my throat, the sting in my eyes. Those bloody, bitter tears spilled over before I could stop them.
So I went back to my little flatmy tiny haven in a quiet neighbourhood. I sank onto the sofa and scrolled through the old photos on my mobile. There she wasmy daughter, so small. Here with a ribbon on her first day of school. Graduation, her degree, the wedding. And there, my granddaughterher gummy smile in the crib.
My whole life in these pictures. Everything I lived for. Everything I gave myself to. And if now Im surplus to requirements? Fine. Maybe my times passed. Maybe Ive done my bit. The important thing now is not to be a burden. Not to embarrass them with my messy appearance. If they need me? Theyll call. *Maybe* theyll call.
Not long after, my phone rang.
Mum Her voice was strained. Can you come? The nanny left, the in-laws well, theyve shown their true colours. And Toms gone off with his mates somewhere, and Im just Im on my own.
I paused. Then, calmly:
Sorry, love. Not right now. Ive got to sort myself out. Make myself presentable, like you said. Maybe another time.
I hung up. And for the first time in ages, I smiled. Sad, but proud.
