“Take him away, someone”
“Laura, have you lost your mind? What do you mean, ‘take him away’? Paul is your son! You can’t just hand him over as if he were a stray dog!” Margaret stood in the middle of the kitchen, gripping a tea towel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Laura sat at the table, fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth.
“Mum, must you always be so dramatic?” She leaned back in her chair, feigning indifference. “I’m not obliged to sacrifice my life for a child. Im only thirty-two, in case youve forgotten.”
Margaret sank into the chair opposite her daughter. A dreadful weight settled in her chest. Laura went on.
“Ive finally met a decent man, Mum. Edward has proposed. We want to move in together, start fresh.” Laura lifted her eyes to her mother. “But Paul hell only get in the way. You understandnew beginnings, adjustments, all that.”
“Paul is only twelve, Laura!” Margarets voice trembled. “He needs his mother. Hell know youve cast him aside for for Edward.”
She saw her daughter flinch but Laura quickly composed herself, waving a hand dismissively.
“Dont make such a fuss, Mum. Itll be fine.” She stood, pacing the kitchen. “I deserve a life too, dont I? Not just hovering over him day and night. Besides, hes old enough to manage. Plenty of lads his age are independent.”
Margaret stared, no longer recognizing her own child. When had her sweet girl become so cold? She rose and moved to the window.
“No, Laura. I wont allow it. Not ever.” She turned back. “You cant abandon your own son.”
“Oh, here we go again!” Laura snatched her bag from the chair. “I thought youd understand. Support me. But nofine, Ill sort it myself.”
The door slammed behind her. Margaret remained, staring at the closed door, her heart aching with foreboding.
Three months later, she stood in a banquet hall, watching her daughters wedding. Music swelled, guests laughed, but joy eluded her. She moved between tables, exchanging pleasantries, smiling stiffly, her insides coiled with dread.
At last, she approached the newlyweds. Edward was regaling his friends with some lively tale while Laura beamed beside him in white lace.
“Laura,” Margaret touched her daughters shoulder. “Wheres Paul? I dont see him among the guests.”
Laura whirled around, irritation flashing in her eyes. She seized Margarets arm, pulling her aside as if afraid Edward might overhear.
“Mum, have you lost your senses? Why bring him up in front of everyone?”
“So where is he? Not at his own mothers wedding?” Margaret pressed.
Laura pressed her lips together, glancing away.
“Edward doesnt quite get on with Paul.” The words tumbled out, rushed and defensive. “So he stayed home. No sense spoiling the day, is there? Hed only be bored around adults anyway.”
Margaret stepped back, eyes wide. Her chest tightened.
“You left a twelve-year-old boy alone on your wedding day because your new husband dislikes him?” Her voice shook with anger and hurt. “Laura, whats happened to you? Hes your son!”
“Mum, dont make a scene, for heavens sake!” Laura shot a nervous glance at the guests. “This is my day. Dont ruin it with your lectures.”
Margaret turned without another word and strode toward the exit. Laura called after her, but she didnt look back. Outside, she hailed a cab.
“Primrose Lane, number eighteen,” she told the driver.
All the way, she thought of her grandson. How was he, alone? What must he be feeling? The boy had grown up without a fathernow his own mother had betrayed him.
At the fourth-floor flat, she rang the bell.
“Paul, its Nana! Open up, love.” She leaned against the door.
Footsteps.
“Nana, is it really you?”
“Of course, darling. Let me in.”
The lock clicked. The door opened. Paul stood theredishevelled, eyes red from crying. Margaret pulled him into a fierce embrace.
His voice shook.
“Nana, does Mum not love me anymore? She left me here. Said to stay quiet and not answer the door.”
Margaret held him tighter, her throat tight.
“Pack your things, love. Youre coming to live with me.” She drew back, meeting his gaze. “Itll be alright. I promise.”
While Paul gathered his belongings, Margaret sent Laura a message: *Paul is staying with me.*
The reply came at once:
*See? I suggested that from the start. Shouldve listened to me.*
Margaret turned off her phone. She had no strength left for this.
Her two-bedroom flat had room for both. Paul settled into Lauras old bedroom. Those first days, he was quiet, withdrawn. But Margaret did her best to draw him out.
“Paul, fancy learning how to make the best scones in England?” she offered one morning.
He nodded, and they stood side by side at the counter, kneading dough, mixing currants.
“Nana,” he asked softly, shaping the dough, “why doesnt Mum ever call?”
Margaret stilled, then smoothed a hand over his hair.
“Love, grown-ups make mistakes sometimes. Big ones.” She chose her words carefully. “But that doesnt mean its your fault. Youre a wonderful boy, and I love you dearly.”
Bit by bit, life steadied. Margaret enrolled Paul in swimming and coding classeshed long dreamed of designing games. He flourished, growing steadier, surer.
Years slipped by. The shy boy became a tall, steady young man. Laura rang only a handful of times, always about some document or another. Shed had a daughter with Edward, and from the rare social media posts, she seemed content in her new life.
On Pauls eighteenth birthday, they celebrated quietly.
“Hard to believe youre all grown,” Margaret said fondly.
After the guests left, they tidied up together. She washed dishes; he dried.
“Paul,” she said, turning off the tap, “theres something you should know. The flat where your mother livesits yours.”
He froze, towel in hand.
“What dyou mean, mine?”
“Your father he passed when you were five.” She spoke slowly. “But he left a will. The flat goes to you when you turn eighteen. Your mother was just the trustee.”
“So it belongs to me?” He set the towel down.
Margaret nodded.
“Entirely. Its your inheritance.”
For two weeks, Paul was quiet, thoughtful. Margaret didnt pry. He was a man nowlet him work it out.
Then, early one morning, the phone rang. Laurawho hadnt called in years.
“Mum, what have you done?!” Her voice was shrill. “Why tell Paul about the will? Now he wants us out! Threatens legal action!”
Margaret exhaled, weary. She sat at the kitchen table.
“Laura, I did what was right. The flat is Pauls. His father provided for him.” Her voice was steady. “But you wouldnt understand. Youve never thought of anyone but yourself. Years without seeing your son, never once asking after him. Yet youd take whats his? No. Never.”
“Mum, where are we supposed to go? Ive a family, a child!”
“Ask Edward. Let him support you, instead of squatting in a boys homethe same boy you turned away five years ago.” A pause. “I kept silent till Paul came of age, because I couldnt force you out sooner. But now? Ill help him claim whats his. Dont bother arguing.”
She hung up. Turning, she found Paul in the doorway. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Thank you, Nana,” he said softly.
She smiled back.
“Well manage, love. Well get your home back.”
Paul crossed the room and hugged her tightlyjust as shed hugged him on Lauras wedding day.
“Nana,” he murmured, “youve been both mother and father to me. I love you. Ill never leave you alone. Were family. Proper family. And I want you to always remember that.”
