“Mum, what if Gran just leaves and gets lost? It’d be better for everyone,” Emily said defiantly.
“Em, don’t forget to lock the door,” her mum sighed, rising from the table.
“Mum, honestly! How many times? Are you going to remind me for the rest of my life?” Emily huffed, crossing her arms.
“No, just while Gran’s with us. If she wanders out, she’ll get lost and—”
“And die alone in the cold, and we’ll feel guilty forever… So maybe let her?” Emily’s voice dripped with challenge.
“Let her what?” Her mum frowned.
“Let her leave and get lost. You’re the one who said you’re sick of looking after her.”
“How can you say that? She’s my mother-in-law, not blood, but she’s still your gran.”
“My gran?” Emily narrowed her eyes, the way she always did when angry. “Where was she when her precious son walked out on us? When she refused to babysit her own granddaughter? Did she care when you were killing yourself to earn every penny? She even blamed you for him leaving—”
“Stop it!” Her mum’s voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have told you any of it. I’ve raised you wrong if you can’t feel pity for family, for the vulnerable. It terrifies me—what if you treat me like this when I’m old? What’s happened to you? You used to bring home every stray kitten. Gran’s not a kitten, but she’s still—” Her mum shook her head. “She’s already paying for what she’s done. Your dad didn’t just leave us; he abandoned her too.”
“Mum, you’ll be late for work. I’ll lock the door, promise.” Emily’s defiance wavered.
“Right. Before we say things we’ll regret.” But her mum didn’t move.
“Mum, I’m sorry, but it hurts to look at you. You’re skin and bones. You’re only forty, and you move like an old woman, hunched and exhausted. Who else will tell you the truth but me?” Emily’s voice rose again.
“Thanks for that. Just make sure she doesn’t leave the gas on or flood the bathroom.”
“See? That’s what I mean—we’re prisoners because of her. No life at all. Mum, let’s put her in a care home. They’ll watch her round the clock. She doesn’t even understand—”
“Not this again,” her mum snapped.
“It’s better for everyone, even her,” Emily pressed, ignoring her mum’s glare.
“I won’t hear another word. She’s staying here. How long does she even have left?”
“She’ll outlive us both. Just go to work. I won’t leave, and I’ll lock the door,” Emily muttered.
“Sorry. I’ve dumped too much on you. All your friends are out having fun, and you’re stuck playing warden.”
They didn’t notice Gran’s door ajar. She’d heard it all—but would she remember?
After her mum left, Emily stepped into her old room, now Gran’s.
“Gran, need anything?”
Gran’s vacant stare offered no reply.
“Come on, I’ll give you a sweet.” Emily helped her up and led her to the kitchen.
“Who are you?” Gran blinked at her.
“Drink your tea.” Emily sighed, placing a chocolate on the table.
Gran had always loved sweets. They used to hide them, doling them out one at a time. Emily watched as Gran fumbled with the wrapper. Through thin grey hair, pale scalp showed. Emily looked away.
Once, Gran had been glamorous—voluminous curls, red lips, arched brows. Men noticed her, back when her mind was sharp. Now, Emily couldn’t sort her feelings—pity, resentment, guilt?
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Mum must’ve forgotten something.”
But it was Tom, her older boyfriend. Her mum disapproved, so he visited when she was out.
“Hey. You’re early,” Emily whispered.
“I know. She didn’t see me.”
“Milly!” Gran’s voice carried from the kitchen.
“Who’s Milly?” Tom asked.
“That’s what she calls Mum—thinks she’s her daughter. Wait in the loo. She’s having a ‘clear’ day.” She shoved him toward the bathroom.
Back in the kitchen, the cup was empty, the wrapper discarded.
“I want tea,” Gran said.
“But—” Emily gave up. Gran forgot everything—except fragments of the past. Was she pretending for another sweet, or had she truly forgotten?
Emily made more tea, set out another chocolate, and led Gran back to bed.
“Sleep now.”
Tom crept out of the loo.
“Coast clear?”
“Yeah. Kitchen.”
They sat close, sharing earphones, lost in music. Emily didn’t notice Gran slipping out…
At the front door, Emily froze.
“It’s open. She’s gone. Mum’ll think I did it on purpose!” Her voice shook.
“Why would she?”
“You don’t get it. I literally said today she should get lost!”
“Come on, let’s look. She can’t have gone far.”
Gran’s coat and boots were still there.
“She left in slippers and a dressing gown?”
Tom checked nearby flats; Emily sprinted outside. They searched the estate, the bus stop—nothing.
“Call the police?”
“Wait. Think—where’d she go when she was lucid?”
Emily blanked.
“Fine, widen the search. You check toward the school; I’ll go the other way.”
Dim streetlights cast shadows. Emily hurried past dark patches, spine prickling. Near the school, she remembered Gran’s story—locked in after retrieving a forgotten book, she’d jumped from a window.
The school gates were open. Rounding the building, she spotted lads laughing in the courtyard.
Gran stood in her faded gown. One boy dangled a scrap of foil.
“Want a sweet, Granny?” He yanked it away as she reached. The others roared.
“Leave her alone!” Emily shouted.
The boys turned.
“Look, another nutter!”
“Granddaughter?”
“Want a sweet too?” The boy advanced.
Emily backed up. They surrounded her, blocking Gran, feeding off her fear. One grabbed her wrists; others pinned her to the fence. Hands groped—
“Oi, back off!” Tom’s voice cut through.
Two boys turned, but the third held fast. A scuffle broke out. Emily kneed her captor, snatched a plank, and swung—missing his head, hitting his back.
He lunged; she bolted for the gates.
“Girl, over here! We’ve called the police!” A couple stood outside the fence. The boys fled.
Tom was bruised but grinning.
“Hero of the day,” he said.
Gran cowered as they approached.
“Gran, it’s me. Let’s go home.”
“Who’s ‘me’? I’m waiting for Billy—school’s nearly out.”
“Billy’s grown up. Come on.”
Then Gran whispered, “I heard everything.”
“Heard what?” Emily’s stomach dropped.
“Milly wants to put me in a home. Don’t let her.”
“We won’t. You’ll catch cold out here.”
“No hospital,” Gran whimpered.
Back home, Emily tucked her in.
“You’re filthy,” she told Tom at the door.
“Worth it. You were brave.”
“I was terrified.”
“Could’ve been worse. My fault—I didn’t lock up.”
Alone, Emily trembled at the kitchen table. The guilt would’ve haunted her forever.
She thought of Mum—caring for her own dying mother, now her ex’s mum. At fifteen, Emily had years ahead. Gran? However long she had left, let her be happy in her haze.
What if Mum became like this? Better to lose the body than the mind. Or better yet—no illness at all. Just age, quietly.
Was Gran’s fate punishment? Or a test—teaching Emily compassion? Preparing her?
That night, she aged a lifetime.
When Mum returned, Emily was still up.
“You’re awake? Everything okay?”
“Fine. Tea?”
“Please.”
Emily set out two cups, two chocolates. They caught each other’s eyes—and laughed till their sides ached.
Perhaps dementia is mercy for those who can’t face their past.
