Oh, you wont believe what happened! Granny Polly was over the moon when she told me, «Ive taught your little Alfie to play cards!»
My sister, Emmaexhausted after her shift at the hospitaljust blinked. «Why? Hes only six.»
«But imagine!» Granny Polly beamed. «When he visits, the grown-ups will sit down to play, and hell join in! Proper social skills, innit?»
You see, Granny grew up in the post-war years, when a game of cards or dominoes was the height of entertainment. And this wasnt nowit was the 70s. So of course, whist and rummy were life skills!
Shed come round to babysit my nephew, little Jamie, while Alfiewho *hated* nurseryhung about. Back then, a latchkey kid with a packed lunch was normal. These days, some parents dont let go till their kids are forty!
The estate was decent, thougha proper square of flats with a playground, a ping-pong table, and even a sandpit. There was also a shop called *Bright Lights* that sold lampshades and, for some reason, sofas. Heavy sofas. The delivery blokes were *expressive*. Lets just say the kids came home with colourful new vocabulary. Mum, what does *bloody* mean?
But that was a small price to pay for safety. You could let your kids run wildthe lads unloading furniture even kept an eye on them!
Emma had married youngfell for a bloke from her med school, got pregnant. Her mother-in-law, who worked at a nursery, took little Alfie during the week so she could finish her degree. After, they both became GPsback when the NHS still assigned you a post.
Me? I didnt marry till twenty-fivepractically ancient back then.
We were nothing alike. Emma was all sharp edgesquick, skinny, dark-hairedwhile I was slow, curvy, and blonde. But we were both stunners. Black and white, opposites but a perfect pair.
People always asked, «Same dad, then?»
«Probably not!» wed snap, though we were thick as thieves.
Dad had died years ago. Mum had a new family by then, living miles away, leaving us the flat. Clever, thatshed just shrug and say, «Course theyve the same dad! The *very same*!»
Till twenty-four, I had lads wrapped round my finger. Then I met Peter at a mates partya friend of my classmates. He was nice enough, but *ugh*.
«Can you *believe* what he asked me?» I hissed to Emma later.
«What?» She braced for scandal.
«*Did I wear thermal knickers!*» I shuddered. «So *boring*!»
Three years older, and all he cared about was my *underwear*. I ghosted him.
Seven years later, after picking through useless blokes, I was still singlestill in that same flat with Emma and her lot. Then, one New Years, no one invited me out. And Emma found a *needle* in my beddingsomeone had hexed me!
But then, *magic*. I bumped into Peter. Fate, right?
This time, when he asked about my *thermal knickers*, I swooned. «*So* thoughtful!» We married fasthed even got a PhD in maths by then.
He moved in, bringing a posh new kettle and sofa.
«We *have* a kettle,» Emma said.
«This ones *ours*,» Peter said.
First crack in the sisterhoodhis kettle was *fancier*.
His parents were loaded, toonot like Emmas husband, Tom, who Mum called «that waster» behind his back. Soon, wed sell the flat and buy two smaller oneswith Peters parents topping up.
Then Jamie came along. I went back to work, and clever Peter *volunteered* Granny Polly to babysit.
One day, Emma came home earlyfeverish, probably from patients. The flat was dark. Quiet. Then*noises*.
She crept in. There, on the rug: six-year-old Alfie teaching baby Jamie to play *whist*.
«Wheres Dad?» she asked.
«Dad and Auntie Emma are *doing laundry* in the bathroom!» Alfie chirped, then turned back to Jamie. «Your turncover me!»
Granny Pollys lessons had *stuck*.
«How longve they been *laundering*?»
«Big hand was on six, now its on nine!» Alfie said.
*Fifteen minutes*. Emmas stomach dropped. «*Thats* why she wont move out.»
She stood by the bathroom door, waiting.
Out they cameflushed, *flustered*.
«Youre supposed to be on call!» Tom stammered.
«Came to help with the *laundry*,» Emma said sweetly. «Done already? Hung it out to dry?»
«Its not what you think!» Tom said.
«Prove it. Show me the *laundry*.»
Silence. No backup plan.
«Get out. *Both*.»
I fled with Jamie. Tom tried grovelling»Babe, it meant nothing!»but Emma was ice. Turned out, theyd been *laundering* for *ages*.
Tom got booted. I got the flat. Emma took a dingy little place*hers*, at least.
Months later, she came home to find Alfie teaching his *teddy bear* to play cards.
«Teddy, you *plonker*, lead with the trump!»
Granny Polly, you *legend*. And cheers to the furniture ladshope youre not too lonely without us!
