“He wanted to stay with me,” said the mother-in-law, shutting the garden gate and leaving Olivia standing outside in her thin dressing gown and slippers.
The click of the latch sounded like a death sentence. For several seconds, Olivia simply stood there, frozen, staring at the carved wooden door through which her seven-year-old son had just vanished. Her son. Her Charlie.
“Margaret! Margaret, open this gate!” she finally cried, yanking at the handle, but it was locked. “Margaret, what are you doing? Charlie! Charlie, love!”
No sound came from behind the dooronly the rustle of dry leaves in the mother-in-laws front garden. A shiver ran down Olivias spine. Shed rushed outside without even grabbing a coat, and now the October wind cut straight through her nightclothes. Her heart felt just as cold and hollow.
It had all started with what seemed like an innocent conversation over breakfast that morning.
“Mum, can I stay at Grandmas this weekend?” Charlie had asked through a mouthful of porridge. “She said she bought me new stamps for my collection and baked a chocolate cake.”
Olivia had grimaced. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, always tried to buy Charlies affection with presents and sweets, positioning herself as the “fun” one, in contrast to his “boring” mother who enforced bedtimes and homework.
“Charlie, darling, youve got swimming on Saturday, remember? And on Sunday, Dad and I were planning to take you to the zoo.”
Her sons face fell. He pushed his bowl away.
“I dont want to go to the zoo. I want to see Grandma. She gets lonely. And its better at her house.”
“Better how?” Olivia couldnt help snapping. “Because she lets you watch telly till midnight and stuff yourself with sweets?”
“Liv, dont,” her husband, James, had murmured from behind his newspaper.
“And what should I do, James?” Shed turned on him. “Your mother spoils him rotten. He ends up with a stomachache, his routines ruined, and Im left picking up the pieces all week.”
Margaret was a fortressunyielding, immovable. No argument could breach her walls.
So that afternoon, theyd driven Charlie over. Olivia had stepped inside with him, exchanging stiff pleasantries with Margaret, who greeted her with icy politeness before showering Charlie with sugary affection.
“Come here, my treasure! Grandmas missed you! Ive got the most splendid stamps for you! And a walnut cakeyour favourite!”
Charlie had flung himself into her arms. Olivia lingered awkwardly in the hallway.
“Ill be off, then. James is waiting in the car. Well fetch him Sunday around six.”
“Fine, fine,” Margaret tossed over her shoulder, already steering Charlie toward the sitting room. “Dont miss us too much.”
Olivia had turned to leave but halfway to the car, remembered Charlies jumper still hanging in the hall. She hurried backthe gate still unlockedand froze on the threshold as snippets of conversation drifted from the sitting room.
“There now, youll stay with Grandma. For a nice long time. Youve got your own room here, all your toys, whatever you like.”
“What about Mum and Dad?” Charlies voice wobbled.
“Oh, they they need a rest. Youll live here with me. Ill let you do anything you want. And your schools just down the roadno more horrid bus rides from their house.”
Olivias blood turned to ice. She marched into the hall.
“Margaret, what on earth are you telling him?”
Her mother-in-law turned, her face devoid of guilt or surprise. Just cold, calculated calm.
“What does it look like? Im explaining how much nicer itll be for him here.”
“He isnt staying! Hes here for the weekend!” Olivias voice shook with fury and dread.
“Ive reconsidered,” Margaret said smoothly. “A grandson should live with his grandmother. I can give him a better life. Peace and quiet. What do you offer? Rushing about, shouting, stress.”
“Youre mad!” Olivia gasped. “Charlie, get your things. Were going home.”
“Not with you,” Margaret stepped forward, shielding him. “He wants to stay. Dont you, Charlie? Tell Mummy youd rather live with Grandma.”
Olivia looked at her son. He clung to Margarets skirt, eyes brimming with tears.
“Mum, I I just wanna stay a bit”
“You see?” Margaret crowed. “Hes made his choice. Dont be selfish, Olivia. Think of his happiness.”
“This is kidnapping!” Olivia shouted. “Im calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” Margaret sneered. “What will you tell them? That a grandmother wont return a child who chose to stay? Ive got everything he needs. And you? James works two jobs, youre always in a state, the house is a mess. Who do you think theyll side with?”
Olivia felt the ground give way. She reached for Charlie.
“Sweetheart, please, come home.”
But he shrank back, gripping Margaret tighter.
A car horn blared outsideJames, growing impatient.
“Off you go,” Margaret said briskly. “Dont make a scene.”
Dazed, Olivia stumbled out. She turned to call for James
Click. The gate locked behind her.
“He wanted to stay with me,” came Margarets final, indifferent words.
Olivia stood paralysed. Then, with a sudden jerk, she flew at the gate, pounding her fists against the wood.
“Give me back my son! Open this door! Charlie! Charlie, come out!”
No reply. Just wind and the distant bark of a neighbours dog. James emerged from the car.
“Liv, whats happened? Why are you screaming?”
She lunged at him, breathless, sobbing.
“Sheshe wont let him go! Says hes living with her now! Shes locked the door!”
Jamess face darkened. He strode to the gate and jammed his finger on the bell. Again. Again.
“Mum! Open up! This is absurd!”
Finally, a voicenot Margarets, but Charlies, small and trembling:
“Dad Im scared she took the key”
James recoiled as if struck. He looked at Olivia helplessly.
“Shes lost her mind.”
“I told you! I told you she was obsessed with him!” Olivia sobbed. “And you always took her side’Mum this, Mum that’well, heres your precious Mum!”
James pulled out his phone.
“Im calling the police. This is illegal.”
He stepped away, phone to his ear. Olivia pressed her forehead to the gate.
“Charlie, darling, dont be frightened, well sort this out, well get you home,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady.
From inside, a tiny whimper:
“Mum she promised me sweets”
Her heart shattered. He was right there, just beyond this wretched door, terrified, confusedbut tempted by cake and stamps.
James returned, grim.
“The sergeant says if hes with family and unharmed, its not kidnapping. We can file a report, but itll take time. Hours, Liv.”
“Hours?!” Olivia choked. “Shell have him brainwashed by then! Shes a master at this!”
She pounded the door again.
“Margaret! Open this door now, or Ill break it down!”
Margarets voice slithered through the wood, calm and venomous:
“Dont embarrass yourself, Olivia. Youre scaring the boy. Charlie stays. Go home, calm down. Well talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?! Give me my son!”
But Olivia knew force wouldnt work. They were fools standing at a locked gate while their child was held hostage by a madwoman.
James tugged her sleeve.
“Lets go. This isnt helping.”
“Go?! Leave him here?!”
“No!” His voice hardened. “But we need a clear head. Well go to the station, pressure them to act. They have to open that door.”
Olivia let him lead her to the car, trembling, glancing back at the hateful gate.
At the station, the duty officer, a young constable, listened skeptically.
“So the grandmothers keeping the lad. And he wants to stay?”
“Hes seven!” Olivia burst out. “Hed agree to anything for sweets! Shes stolen him!”
“Calm down, maam. Well send a unit.”
The wait was agony. They sat in the car outside their empty house. Olivia wept. James smoked in silence, aged ten years in as many minutes.
“How could she?” Olivia whispered. “Her own grandson”
“Shes always been like this,” James rasped. “Control. Everything her way. I thought age might mellow her but its worse now.”
Olivia looked
