Granny never took to young Val. Shed shake her head and mutter to the other women at the grocers, “Hes not one of ours, not really.”
“Come off it, Annie,” someone would say. “Look at himspitting image of your Dave when he was a lad!”
“I know, I know,” Annie would sigh. “In me head, I know hes Daves boy. But in me heart? Cant feel it. Me daughters kids, nowtheyre me own flesh and blood. But this one? Doesnt live with us, does he? Oh, he runs about, chatters away, calls me Granbut I just cant. One look at him, and I see that Stockwell blood. Not mine.”
Another woman nodded. “Aye, its the same with me mum, God rest her. Shed dote on me Milly, kiss her cheeks, spoil her rotten. But me brothers kids? Barely a glance. Hed get upset, mind. But shed just say, Lad, I know me daughters bairns are mine. Yours? Well”
“Same here!”
“Us too!”
“Lord, Im no better,” another admitted. “Me daughters lad? Proper little angel, he is. Dimples, bright eyescant get enough of him. But me sons boy? Cant stand the sight. Not just his looksalways snot-nosed, filthy. I tell his mum to keep him clean, and she snaps back, When? Your son wants a spotless house and hot mealswhen do I have time?”
Annie just listened, then slipped away, realising she wasnt alone. Plenty of women felt the same about sons children.
But Val? He adored his gran. Thought if he got close to her, hed feel closer to his dad, whod gone up north years ago to work the oil rigs. Never came back, though. Still, Val wrote him letters, brought them to Gran Annie.
His mum said the old bat was the only one who knew where his useless father had got to. But Val knew she loved him. She was just hurt Dad hadnt taken her with him.
“Where would he put you?” Val wondered. She ought to understand.
Sometimes shed shout that he and his dad had ruined her life. Said she shouldve married John Spence insteadhad his kids, lived like a queen.
One day, Val tried rolling cheese in butter in his toy lorry (a birthday gift from Gran Annie). Mum screeched, tried to chuck it out. But Val clung to itfelt like Dad had sent it. Probably had, really. The lorry wasnt cheap.
Still, he didnt get why Mum wanted that life.
“Dadll come back,” he told himself. “Then well be happier than any Spence lot.”
He visited Gran once, but her favourite, little Lucy, was therehis cousin, spoiled rotten.
“Gran bought me a dolly,” she taunted, sticking out her tongue.
Val shrugged. “Dont care.”
“Shes making pancakes with cream nowjust for me!”
“For everyone,” Gran muttered.
Val stayed for tea, asked if she needed help, then left.
“Finally!” Lucys voice carried as he shut the door.
“Shut your trap,” Gran scolded.
That warmed Vals heart. She did care.
But Dad never came back. Years later, Val learned hed started a new family up north. Gran visited them oftennever told Val.
“All your letters are in that drawer,” she said dismissively. “And your dad paid good child support. Your mum spent it raising another mans kids.”
Devastated, Val got drunkfirst and last time. Raged at Mum, Gran, Dad.
Mum started shouting”Drunken lout!”but John Spence (now her husband) stepped in, took Val to the garage. There, Val sobbed. Told him how kids mocked him at schoolcalled him a bastard, said Mum had dragged him home in her apron.
“Thats why I learned to fight,” Val choked out. “And why I kept visiting Granto prove I had family too.”
John gripped his shoulders. “Listen, lad. Youre my son. Ten years Ive raised youthat makes you mine.”
They wept together, foreheads pressed.
“Son.”
“Dad.”
Mum nearly stormed insaw the open whiskeybut left them be.
Years passed. Val married, had kids. Gran Annie, frail now, was dumped at the hospital by Lucy.
“Not my problem!” she shrieked at the doctors.
Val stepped in. “Ill take her.”
Lucy sneered. “After the wills mine? Dream on.”
But Val brought Gran home. She recovered, doted on his children, begged forgiveness.
When she died, Lucy didnt even come.
Back at the shop, the women clucked.
“Turns out the unloved grandson was the one who cared.”
One woman paused, then said, “Weigh me extra sweets, Kate. For me grandkids.”
And so it goes. Favour the one from your daughter, shun the sons childonly to end your days with the one you pushed away. Lifes funny that way.
