Mab's Choice

"Let's go and see how the high people live," declared Nan as she strode across the lawn. Mab followed reluctantly. To her relief, the manor house appeared deserted. Nan peered through a window.

"The high people are not doing their housework properly. Look at all that dust!"

Mab tugged at her sleeve, until Nan allowed her to lead her back to the road. Mab sighed. Of all the grandmothers in the world, she had to have the one who wore leather boots, rode an old motorcycle, and trespassed on rich people's property. As if she weren't different enough already. She stopped.

"Where are we, Nan?"

They had reached the foot of a small hill. Behind them loomed the manor house; to the left and right lay empty, muddy fields. On top of the hill stood a twisted tree, and next to it a grassy mound, several feet high. The whole scenery was vaguely familiar. Something was stirring in her memory, reaching out to her through the dark water of time.

"Come on, Mab," Nan said, urgently, and they walked away.

By the time they got back to Nan's house, it was time for their tea and pills. Mab lined them up on the kitchen table. First Nan's, then hers: the white pills that were meant to improve her skin, the green ones that were supposed to make her taller, and the pink powder that she hated because it was made of iron.

"I've got more pills than you now," said Nan. "You used to have so many. But every year they give me a new one, and take one of yours away."

Mab exhaled in exasperation.

"That's because they're not working."

Nan frowned.

"Nonsense, it's because they are." But Mab caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the chimney. The round face wasn't getting any prettier, the sallow skin refused to take on a rosy glow, and she was still two heads shorter than any of her classmates.

"You used to be so tiny," said Nan, as though reading her thoughts. "Half the size of a healthy baby. You are growing – slowly but surely."

After tea, Mab returned to her own house, a few streets away. She walked fast, hugging the walls. Some children at the school walked fast at night because they were afraid of goblins. How silly, Mab thought. If she met a goblin, she was sure they'd get on like a house on fire. Only humans were a problem.

They were waiting for her outside her house. Mab's heart contracted in her chest. As she got nearer, they began to chant the usual names. A big boy pushed a smaller boy towards her.

"Go on, kiss her," howled the pack. The small boy recoiled in mock horror.

"I don't want to! She's ugly!"

A girl approached – Mairwen, the most popular girl in the class, and didn't she know it. She stuck her pretty face right against Mab's and hissed:

"Ugly and weird. Only the Evans could have adopted her! Weird Mr Evans and his weird mum!"

Adopted. No one had told her, but Mab realised that, deep down, she knew. She'd always known.

The tribe cheered:

"They're all weird, and she's the weirdest!"

Mab pushed the girl away, with a strength she didn't know she had. Mairwen wasn't expecting it. She stumbled backwards, shrieking. Mab ran into the house. Her father emerged from his study as she pulled off her muddy shoes.

"Have these children been bothering you again, cariad?"

She shrugged.

"They're just kids."