“Get out, you’ve ruined everything!” shouted Emily, hurling her slippers into the hallway.
Margaret Wilson bent down to pick up her worn house shoes, her hands trembling with hurt and humiliation. In her sixty-eight years, no one had ever thrown her out of her own home. Yet here was her daughter-in-law, whom she’d welcomed as her own flesh and blood, screaming at her to leave.
“Emily, love, what’s happened?” Margaret tried to keep her voice steady. “Explain it to me properlyI dont understand.”
“You dont understand?!” Emily threw her hands up. “You seriously dont see what youve done?”
Margaret looked at her daughter-in-law in confusion. Just that morning, everything had been fine. Shed woken early as usual, made breakfast for everyone. Her son Robert had left for work, the children had gone off to school. Emily had been rushing to her job at the bank, where she worked as a manager.
“Gran, dont forget to pick Lily up from nursery at three,” Emily had said, pulling on her coat. “Ill be latebig clients coming in.”
“Of course, dear, dont worry,” Margaret had replied. “I always fetch her.”
And she had. For the past six months, ever since shed moved in after her husbands death, Margaret had faithfully collected four-year-old Lily from nursery. The family lived in a three-bedroom houseenough space for everyone. Robert and Emily had the master bedroom, their eldest son James had his own room, and Lily slept on the pull-out sofa in the living room. Margaret had made do with the small box room, once used for storage.
Life had been harmonious. Emily worked, Robert worked, and Margaret kept the house runningcooking, cleaning, and helping with the children. She even saved money by buying groceries from the local market.
At three oclock, Margaret arrived at the nursery. Lily ran to her, full of chatter.
“Gran, a lady from social services came today!” she babbled on the walk home. “She asked all about uswho looks after us, how we live.”
“Did she?” Margaret frowned. “And what did you tell her?”
“I said you were the best gran in the world!” Lily hugged her arm. “That you feed us, read us stories, and when Mummy and Daddy shout, you make me feel better.”
Margarets stomach tightened. Robert and Emily had been arguing more latelymostly about money. The mortgage, bills, school costsit all weighed heavily. Emily blamed Robert for not earning enough, though he worked twelve-hour shifts as a bus driver.
“Sweetheart, why mention Gran when your parents argue?” Margaret asked carefully.
“But you said Mummy was wrong when she shouted at Daddy! Yesterday you told me, ‘Dont listen, love. Mummys just tired. Daddys a good man.’ And you said Daddy works hard, and Mummy doesnt see it.”
Margarets breath caught. She had said those thingscomforting Lily when she cried after her parents rows. But had she said anything wrong? Shed only defended her son, as any mother would.
At home, they had lunch, and Lily napped while Margaret made dinner. She wanted it ready before James came home from schoolthe boy was always starving.
At five, Emily returned, her face dark, her eyes red. Margaret assumed work had been stressful.
“Emily, love, how was your day? Fancy a cuppa?”
But Emily walked straight past her without a word, locked herself in the bedroom, and spoke in hushed tones on the phone.
Robert came home at eight, exhausted. He ate quickly and fell into bed. Emily skipped dinner, claiming she wasnt hungry.
“Mum, whats up with Emily?” Robert whispered when they were alone in the kitchen. “Shes been in a foul mood all evening.”
“I dont know, love. Trouble at work, maybe.”
The next morning, tension hung thick in the air. Emily dressed the children in silence, avoiding Margarets eyes. Robert stayed quiet, sensing trouble.
“Mum, whats social services?” James asked over breakfast.
Margaret nearly choked on her tea. “Whered you hear that?”
“Mum and Dad were talking last night. Mum said they could take us away if things are bad at home. Dad said that was rubbish.”
Emily slammed her hands on the table. “James, get ready for school. Lily, get your coat.”
The children scurried off. Emily watched them go, then turned to Margaret.
“We need to talk.”
Robert glanced between them. “Whats this about?”
“Go to work,” Emily snapped. “Youll be late.”
Robert hesitated, kissed Emilys cheek, and left. The children followed soon after. Now it was just the two women.
“Sit down, Margaret.” Emilys voice was ice.
Margaret obeyed, her pulse racing.
“I was called into my managers office yesterday. Know why?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Someone reported us to social services. Anonymous. Said our home was unstableparents always fighting, children neglected, only Gran looking after them.”
“Good Lord, who would do that?” Margaret gasped.
“Thats what Im wondering.” Emilys gaze hardened. “Who knows our private business? Who hears our arguments? Who would tell outsiders we fight?”
“Emily, you cant think”
“Who else?” Emily exploded. “Who else knows everything?”
“But why would I?” Margarets voice trembled. “Theyre my family!”
“Maybe you want us to split up. Maybe you think your son deserves better.”
“Dont be silly! I love you like my own daughter!”
Emily laughed bitterly. “Oh, really? Then why tell the kids Daddys perfect and Mummys cruel? Why tell Lily I dont appreciate how hard Robert works?”
“I just didnt want her upset”
“Youre turning them against me!” Emily shouted. “The social worker spoke to the nursery staff. They said Lily keeps quoting you: ‘Gran says Mummys wrong,’ ‘Gran says Daddys tired, and Mummy doesnt care.'”
Margaret paled. She had said those thingsbut with good intentions.
“I never meant”
“And whats in their report now?” Emily continued. “That the child discusses family conflicts with strangers. That Grandmother meddles in parenting. That were inconsistent in raising our kids.”
“Dear God, I only wanted to help!”
“Exactly!” Emily clutched her head. “You *wanted* to help! Now social services will inspect us. Check our home, judge our parenting.”
Margarets legs felt weak.
“What if”
“If what? If they find problems? They could take the kids. Or label us a troubled family. Do you know what that means for my job? I work in a *bank*they do background checks!”
Emily paced, fists clenched.
“I spent all yesterday assuring my boss its a mistake. This morning, I rang the nursery. The manager said Lilys been repeating your words for weeks. They suggested we see a family therapist.”
Margaret slumped in her chair, her vision blurring.
“I didnt know… I never thought”
“You *didnt think*!” Emily scoffed. “Thats the problem! Kids shouldnt hear adult issues!”
“But I wasnt trying to”
“It doesnt matter! The damage is done! Because of your ‘help,’ my children could suffer!”
Robert returned, having forgotten his papers. He froze at the sight of his weeping mother and furious wife.
“Whats going on?”
“Your mother reported us to social services!” Emily spat.
“What?!” Robert stared at Margaret. “Mum, is this true?”
“No, Robbie, Id neverbut Lily repeated things I said…”
Robert sat heavily, rubbing his temples. “Explain properly.”
Emily laid out the situation. His face darkened with every word.
“Right,” he said finally. “So what now?”
“Now?” Emily threw up her hands. “We wait for inspections. Prove were a normal family. And as for your mother”
She turned to Margaret.
“I cant live with someone who crosses lines. Who involves kids in adult problems. Who risks my childrens safety.”
“Emily, pleaseIll stop”
“Stop? Its too late! What if were flagged? What if I lose my job?”
Robert looked between them.
“Mum… maybe you should stay elsewhere for a while. Till this blows over.”
Margarets world tilted. Her own sonraised alone after his fathers death, the boy shed given everything towas sending her away.
“Robbie, where will I go? I sold my flat to move here…”
“You could stay with Aunt Nora. Or well rent you a cheap place.”
“With what money? My pensions barely £800 a month!”
“Well figure it out,” Robert said weakly. “The main thing is fixing this mess.”
Emily crossed her arms. “Either she goes, or I take the kids to my parents. And Ill file
