**Diary Entry**
Two years ago, I lost my daughter and son-in-lawor so I thought. Then one day, my grandchildren screamed, “Grandma, look! It’s Mum and Dad!”
We were at Brighton Beach when the children suddenly pointed to a nearby café. My heart skipped a beat at their words, words that shattered the fragile peace I’d built. The couple sitting there looked exactly like their parents, who had supposedly died two years earlier.
Grief changes you in ways you never anticipate. Some days, it’s a dull ache in your chest. Others, it hits you square in the face, like a punch you never saw coming.
That morning, I’d been in my kitchen, staring at an anonymous letter, torn between hope and dread. My hands shook as I read the words: *”They never really left.”* The crisp white paper felt like it was burning my fingers. I thought I was handling my grief, trying to build a stable life for my grandchildren, Oliver and Thomas, after the tragic loss of my daughter, Elizabeth, and her husband, James. But that note made me realise how far from reality I truly was.
They’d had an accidentor so we were told. I still remember the agony of Oliver and Thomas asking when their parents were coming home. It took months to make them understand that Mum and Dad werent coming back. It broke my heart to tell them theyd have to learn to live without them, but I promised Id always be there.
So, receiving a letter suggesting Elizabeth and James were still alive was beyond bewildering.
*”They… never left?”* I whispered, sinking into a chair. *”What kind of cruel joke is this?”*
I was about to throw the letter away when my phone buzzed. It was my bank, alerting me to a purchase made with Elizabeths cardthe one Id kept active, clinging to some remnant of her.
*”How?”* I muttered. *”That cards been in a drawer for two years. Who could be using it?”*
I called the bank immediately.
*”Good morning, this is David. How can I assist you today?”*
*”I need to check the last transaction on my daughters card,”* I said.
After verifying my details, David paused. *”Im sorry for your loss, maam. There havent been any recent transactions on the physical card. The one youre referring to was made with a virtual card linked to the account.”*
*”A virtual card? I never set one up!”*
*”Theyre independent of the physical card and stay active unless manually deactivated. Would you like me to disable it?”*
*”Nonot yet. When was it created?”*
Another pause. *”A week before your daughters presumed passing.”*
A chill ran down my spine. *”Thank you, David. Thats all for now.”*
I hung up, my heart pounding, and called my best friend, Margaret, to tell her about the letter and the mysterious transaction.
*”It cant be,”* she said firmly. *”There must be some mistake.”*
*”Someone wants me to believe Elizabeth and James are still out there. But why? Who would do this?”*
The purchase was smalljust £18.50 at a local café. Part of me wanted to investigate, but another part was terrified of what I might find.
I decided to check the café that weekend, but what happened on Saturday changed everything.
We were at the beach, the children laughing as they splashed in the shallows. For the first time in ages, they sounded carefree. Margaret and I watched from our towels when Oliver suddenly shouted, *”Grandma, look!”* He grabbed Thomass hand, pointing at the seafront café. *”Its Mum and Dad!”*
My heart stopped. There, not thirty metres away, sat a woman with dyed hair but Elizabeths graceful posture, leaning toward a man who looked just like James.
*”Stay with the children,”* I told Margaret, my voice tight with urgency. Without a word, though worry filled her eyes, she nodded.
I hurried toward the couple.
They stood and took a narrow path lined with wild roses. My feet moved on their own, following at a distance. They laughed occasionally, the woman tucking her hair behind her earjust like Elizabeth always did. The man limped slightly, exactly as James had after his injury.
Then I heard them speak.
*”Its risky, but we had no choice, Amelia,”* the man said.
*Amelia?* Why was he calling her Amelia?
They turned onto a shell-strewn path leading to a cottage draped in ivy. Once they were inside, I dialled 999. The operator listened patiently as I explained the impossible situation.
I lingered by the fence, straining to hear more. None of it felt real.
Finally, gathering my courage, I walked to the door and rang the bell.
Silence. Then footsteps.
The door opened, and there stood my daughter. Her face went pale.
*”Mum?”* she whispered. *”How did you find us?”*
Before I could answer, James appeared behind her. The sound of sirens filled the air.
*”How could you?”* My voice trembled with rage and grief. *”Do you have any idea what youve put us through?”*
Police cars pulled up, and two officers approached. *”Well need to ask some questions,”* one said, glancing between us. *”This isnt something we see every day.”*
Elizabeth and Jamesnow calling themselves Amelia and Danielbegan their story in fragments.
*”It wasnt supposed to be like this,”* Elizabeth said, tears streaming. *”We were desperate. The debts, the loan sharks they kept coming. We tried everything.”*
James sighed. *”They werent just after money. They threatened us. We couldnt drag the children into this mess wed made.”*
*”We thought if we disappeared, theyd have a better life,”* Elizabeth admitted. *”Leaving them was the hardest thing weve ever done.”*
Theyd faked their deaths to escape their creditors, hoping the police would close the case. Theyd moved to another town, changed their names, and tried to start over.
*”But I couldnt stop thinking about the boys,”* Elizabeth whispered. *”We rented this cottage just to be near them.”*
My heart shattered listening to them, but fury simmered beneath. There had to have been another way.
Once theyd confessed, I texted Margaret our location. Soon, she arrived with Oliver and Thomas. The boys faces lit up, sprinting toward their parents.
*”Mum! Dad!”* they cried. *”Youre here! We knew youd come back!”*
Elizabeth hugged them tightly, sobbing. *”Oh, my darlings Ive missed you so much. Im so sorry.”*
I watched, whispering to myself, *”But at what cost, Elizabeth? What have you done?”*
The police allowed a brief reunion before taking Elizabeth and James away. The senior officer turned to me, sympathy in his eyes.
*”Im sorry, maam, but theyre facing serious charges. Theyve broken multiple laws.”*
*”And my grandchildren?”* I asked, watching Oliver and Thomass confused faces as their parents were led away again. *”How do I explain this to them? Theyre just boys.”*
*”Thats your decision,”* he said gently. *”But the truth always comes out eventually.”*
Later that night, after tucking the boys into bed, I sat alone in my living room. The anonymous letter lay on the table, its message now ringing differently.
I picked it up, rereading the words: *”They never really left.”*
Whoever sent it had been right. Elizabeth and James hadnt *left*. Theyd chosen to go. And somehow, that felt worse than believing they were dead.
*”I dont know if I can shield the boys from the heartbreak,”* I murmured into the quiet room, *”but Ill do everything I can to keep them safe.”*
Now, I wondershould I have called the police? Part of me wishes Id let my daughter live the life she wanted. But another part needed her to face what shed done.
Did I do the right thing? What would you have done?
