I was my sons free nanny and cook until they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nan, hello! Hope Im not interrupting?” My daughter-in-law Katys voice chirped down the line, fake cheeriness dripping from every word.
I silently stirred the long-cold soup in the pot. Interrupting? I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Go on, Katy.”
“Weve got newsabsolute bombshell! Leo and I booked flights to Turkey for two weeks! All-inclusive, can you believe it? Total last-minute deal!”
I could picture it. Sun, sea, Leo and Katy. And there, just out of frametheir five-year-old son, Mikey. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im so pleased for you,” I said flatly, like I was reading instructions off a medicine bottle.
“Right! So youll take Mikey, yeah? He cant go to nursery now with that chickenpox going round.”
Not to mention his swimming lessonscant miss those. And his speech therapist appointment next week, Ill send you the full schedule.
She spoke so fast, not letting me get a word in, as if I might actually think and refuse. Not that I ever had.
“Katy, I was thinking of going to the countryside for a few days while the weathers nice…” I began, barely believing my own weak attempt.
“The countryside?” Her voice was pure disbelief, like Id said I was jetting off to Mars. “Nan, seriously? Who cares about a cottage when your grandson needs you?”
This was about his wellbeing, not my little garden. They werent swanning off for funit was for their health. Sea air, vitamins!
I stared out the window at the grey street. My sea air. My vitamins.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Katy barrelled on, “the cat food delivery arrives Wednesdaypremium stuff, twelve kilos. Couriers coming between ten and six, so youll need to be in. And could you water the plants? The orchids fussy.”
She listed my duties like it was the most natural thing. I wasnt a personjust a function. A free, convenient add-on to their comfortable lives.
“Fine, Katy. Of course.”
“Brill! I knew we could count on you!” she trilled, as if shed just handed me the greatest gift. “Right, kisses, gotta dash and pack!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My gaze landed on the wall calendar. A red circle marked next Saturdaymy yearly catch-up with the girls, the first in nearly a year.
I grabbed a damp cloth and wiped it away in one stroke. Like erasing another tiny piece of my own unlived life.
No anger, no bitterness. Just a sticky, hollow emptiness and one quiet, clear question: When would they realise I wasnt just a free service, but a living person?
Probably the day they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
Mikey arrived the next day. Leo lugged in his enormous suitcase, a swim bag, and three carrier bags of toys, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, were in a rushgotta get to the airport,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Katy fluttered in behind him, already in holiday modefloppy hat, floaty dress. She scanned my modest flat with a quick, assessing look.
“Nan, dont let Mikey watch too much telly, yeah? Books are better. And go easy on the sweetshes a nightmare when hes hyper.”
Heres a listeverythings on it. Routine, numbers for the speech therapist, swimming coach, allergist. Meals for each day.
She spoke like Id never met my own grandson. Like I hadnt looked after him since birth while they built their careers.
“Katy, I remember what he likes,” I said softly.
“Rememberings one thing, diets another,” she snapped. “All right, Mikey, be good for Nanny! Well bring you a massive jeep!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and a lingering sense of draft.
Mikey, realising hed been left behind, howled. The first three days were a marathon.
Swimming lessons one end of town, speech therapy the other. Tantrums, tears at night, endless “want Mummy.” I was shattered.
On day four, I dared to call Leo. They were just checking into the hotel.
“Hello, Mum? Everything alright? Mikey okay?” His voice was tense.
“Mikeys fine, dont worry. Leo, I wanted to talk… Its too much. I cant keep up. Could you hire a part-time nanny? Id pay half.”
Silence. Then a heavy sigh.
“Mum, dont start, yeah? Weve only just got here. Katy was stressed enough before we left. A nanny? Whod we trust? Youre his nan. This should be a joy.”
“Leo, joy doesnt cancel out exhaustion. Im not getting younger.”
“Youre just out of practice,” he said, gently insistent. “Youll adjust. Lets not ruin each others break. We dont get away often. Right, Mum, gotta go. Katys calling.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not angerjust cold, clear understanding.
To him, I wasnt a mum who might struggle. I was a resource. Reliable, tested, andmost importantlyfree.
On Wednesday, as promised, the cat food arrived. The delivery guy dumped the enormous, unwieldy sack on the doorstep and muttered something about “doorstep delivery.”
I spent ten minutes dragging twelve kilos of fishy pellets into the hall, wrecking my back. When I finally managed it, I sat on the floor beside the bag and laughed. A silent, hollow laugh.
That evening, Katy called. Sea waves and music in the background.
“Nan, hi! Hows it going? Did you water my orchid? Only with filtered water, remember? And at the roots, not the leaves!”
She didnt ask about Mikey. Didnt ask about me. Just her bloody plant.
“I remember, Kitty. Everythings under control,” I said, eyeing that cursed sack of cat food.
That night, I barely slept. Not thinking about the cottage or my missed meet-up. I opened the wardrobe, took out my old savings book and passport. Just stared at them, tracing the covers with my fingers.
The thought that had flickered days ago wasnt just a fantasy anymore. It had shape. A plan.
The phone rang on day ten of their “break.” Leo.
“Mum, hi! Hows our little man?”
“Asleep,” I said shortly.
“Listen, thing is…” He hesitated, and I knewa favour. “We love it here. Proper paradise. Hotels offering a discount if we stay another week. Mental, right?”
I stayed silent. Knew what was coming.
“Anyway, were staying. But were a bit short…” That wheedling tone I hated. “Mum, could you?”
Long story short, Katy remembered Dads sapphire earrings. You never wear them.
“What do you want, Leo?” My voice was eerily calm.
“Pawn them, yeah?” he blurted. “Theyll fetch a decent bit. Well buy them back soon as were home! Promise! Whats the point of them gathering dust? This is living!”
Katys voice in the background: “Leo, spit it out! Nan, theyre just things! We deserve a proper break!”
Just things. My memories. My family. My life. Just collateral for their “living.”
Something inside me froze solid. Not shatteredjust set, sharp as ice.
The emptiness filled with cold, clear resolve.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Seriously? Mum, youre the best! Fifty grand should cover it. Just snap the receipt so we know what to pay back.”
“Of course, Leo. Dont worry. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up. Peeked into Mikeys room. He was asleep, arms flung out, lips smacking. My sweet, unwanted boy.
And the ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt leave him. Couldnt hand him to strangers. But I couldnt keep living like this either.
I texted Leo: Not pawning the earrings. Your holiday ends in four days, as per your tickets. If youre not back by Sunday, Im calling social services on Monday. No discussion.
The reply came instantly: “Are you THREATENING us?!”
I didnt answer. Opened the airline site. Booked a ticket. Antalya. Departing Tuesday. No return.
They came back Sunday evening. Not arrivingstorming in. Tanned, irritable, deeply offended.
“Happy now?” Katy shrieked. “Ruined the best holiday of our lives! Manipulative cow!”
Leo stomped to Mikeys room. Our boy launched himself at his dad.
I walked out from the kitchen, holding my passport with the ticket inside. Utterly calm.
“Glad youre back for your son,” I said softly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five years, Leo. Five years Ive lived as your shadow.”
Picked Mikey up from nursery when Katy was getting her nails done. Stayed up nights when he teethed so you could sleep. Turned down dozens of plans because “Mum, we need help.”
Ive spent more time with your son than you both combined. I was your free function.
I turned to Katy.
“You never once asked how I was. But you never forgot your orchid. You assumed this would never end. That I had nowhere to go.”
I laid the passport and ticket on the table.
“You were wrong. I love Mikey. Thats why I waited till you got back instead of wrecking your lives properly. But my role heres done. I want to see the sea too.”
Leo picked up the ticket, stunned.
“Turkey? Mum… how long?”
“Undecided,” I shrugged, grabbing my pre-packed suitcase. “I want to live for me. And you? Youre parents now. Fully. No help, no shortcuts, no sacrifices from anyone else. Learn.”
I kissed Mikeys head.
“Nanny will be back soon,” I lied, forcing a smile.
And I walked out. Left the three of them in my little flat. Left them with twelve kilos of cat food, a finicky orchid, and full responsibility for their own lives.
For the first time in years, I didnt feel empty. I felt something newthe first whisper of freedom.
