GRANNY STATE DIARY OF A FIRST-TIME GRANDMOTHER (IT’ S COMPLICATED)

A new recruit to the Granny Mafia has some sound advice – and Rose is led astray

Amazing news. I’ve found a new member for the Granny Mafia. And it turns out she’s a double agent. Nanny X is someone I occasionally play tennis with at the club. I knew she had a grandson who was a bit older than Rose but I didn’t realise until last week that she had stepgrandchildren too. “It means I can see both sides. Rather like a spy,” she says.

I inundate her with questions. Does the “real’’ gran (her husband’s first wife) get jealous when she’s with the woman’s grandchildren? How does she deal with that? And does the rival (if that’s what she is) try to muscle in on my friend’s new grandson even though it’s her ex-husband who is the step-parent?

“Yes. Tricky. No,” she answered. “I did feel a bit awkward when one of my stepgrandsons cut his knee while we were visiting and he ran to me. I didn’t want their blood grandmother to feel hurt.”

“It’s actually not easy for step-grans,” says my friend. “They’re damned if they’re too nice and damned if they’re not.”

Meanwhile, Newish Husband and I are taking Rose out to lunch at a proper restaurant for the first time. NH wants to try a new brasserie and Rose is restless because it’s tipping down and we can’t do our walk along the seafront.

“Check they have highchairs,” I prompt when NH phones to book. They don’t. So we compromise with the garden centre, which apparently has a very good café and means I can stock up with plants for my allotment.

Unlike my three, Rose enjoys her food. So when NH (who is “starving’) tucks into his gooey chocolate pudding, which has arrived before his main course, Rose insists on sharing. An elderly pair of women at a neighbouring table throw us disapproving looks.

Meanwhile, Rose’s main meal has arrived but she prefers the chocolate to her carrots so she tosses the latter onto the carpet. “Are they meant to do that?’’ asks NH. One of the elderly women receives a carrot on her plate. Rose claps with glee at her spot-on aim.

“So sorry,” I say as we gather her up and head back home. Then I remember. “We’ve got to go back.” “Why?’’ “I forgot to buy any plants.” “Bugger that.” “Bug, bug,” comes a little voice from behind.

NH and I stare at each other in horror. To date, Rose’s vocab has been limited to “dad’’ (which includes all men), mum, dog and something that sounds like “there’’ when she hands us an object.

“Ignore it,” I hiss, hastily passing Rose an In The

Night Garden book. Thankfully she zonks out.

The following week, we are all invited to first husband’s home for a family gathering. “Has Rose learnt any more new words?’ asks nice New Wife while putting on the kettle.

My daughter beams. “She said “bug’’ the other day when she found a spider.”

I don’t look at my husband. Instead, I am staring at the cupboard which NW has just opened. Inside is a distinctive tea set design from the Sixties, just like the one my mother passed onto me. I realise that I haven’t seen it since the divorce. Is it possible that this set went into first husband’s pile instead of mine in the confusion of division?

I’m on the verge of saying something when I remember a piece of advice from double-agent Nanny X. “It’s tough for a stepgran. She’s often caught in the middle.”

So I keep my mouth shut. Not easy. But then again, Rose is far more important than any storm over a teacup.

‘It’s tough for a step-gran. She’s often caught in the middle’