Gran, Mum says we have to put you in a care home. I heard my parents talkinga kid wouldnt make that up.
Margaret strolled through the lanes of a quaint village just outside Bath, on her way to pick up her granddaughter from school. Her face glowed with happiness, and the click of her shoes on the pavement was as lively as it had been in her far-off youth, when life felt like an endless melody. Today was specialshed finally gotten her own place. A bright, cosy one-bedroom flat in a new building, something shed dreamed of for years. Nearly two years of scrimping, saving every penny. The sale of her old cottage in the countryside only covered half, so her daughter, Emily, chipped in the restthough Margaret vowed to pay her back. A widow in her seventies could manage on half her pension, after all, while the young onesEmily and her husbandneeded the money more, with their whole lives ahead of them.
At the school gates waited her granddaughter, Sophie, a Year 3 girl with plaits. The little girl dashed over, and they walked home together, chatting about nothing in particular. The eight-year-old was the light of Margarets life, her greatest treasure. Emily had had her late, almost at forty, and then asked her mum for help. Margaret hadnt wanted to leave the cottage where every corner held a memory, but for the sake of her daughter and granddaughter, shed given it all up. She moved closer, took care of Sophiepicked her up from school, stayed with her till her parents got home from work, then went back to her snug little flat. The flat was in Emilys namejust a precaution, since the elderly could be easily swindled, and life was unpredictable. Margaret didnt argue: to her, it was just paperwork.
Gran, Sophie suddenly cut in, looking up at her with big eyes, Mum says we have to put you in a care home.
Margaret froze, as if shed been doused in icy water.
A care home? Love, what do you mean? she asked, feeling a chill seep into her bones.
Yeah, where old grandmas and grandpas live. Mum told Dad youd be happier there, not bored or anything, Sophie murmured, but every word hit like a hammer.
But I dont want to go there! Id rather rest in peace, Margaret replied, her voice shaking as her mind reeled. It was unbelievablecoming from a child.
Gran, dont tell Mum I told you, Sophie whispered, clinging to her. I heard them talking last night. Mum said shes already sorted it with a lady, but they wont take you till Im a bit older.
I promise, sweetheart, Margaret said, unlocking the front door. Her legs wobbled, her hands unsteady. I dont feel wellmy heads spinning. Ill lie down for a bit, alright? Go change your clothes.
She sank onto the sofa, her heart pounding, the room spinning. Those words, spoken in that small voice, shattered her world. It was truea truth so cruel and stark a child couldnt have made it up. Three months later, Margaret packed her things and went back to the countryside. Now she rents a little cottage there, saving up for a new place to call her own. Old friends and distant relatives offer help, but inside, theres just emptiness and hurt.
Some tut and murmur behind her back: Shes partly to blameshouldve talked to Emily, cleared the air. But Margaret stays firm.
A child doesnt make that up, she says, voice steady, staring into space. Emilys actions speak for themselves. She hasnt even rung, hasnt asked why I left.
Seems her daughter understood, but shes stayed quiet. And Margaret waits. Waits for a call, an explanation, any wordbut she wont dial the number herself. Pride and pain cling to her like chains. She doesnt feel guilty, but her heart breaks over the silence, the betrayal from those closest to her. Every day, she wonders: is this all thats left of her love and sacrifice? Is her old age doomed to loneliness and being forgotten?
