“It Doesn’t Look Right That Your Children Will Have Homes and My Son Won’t—Let’s Get Him a Flat with a Mortgage!” Recently, my husband Anthony pointed out that my children have their own flats, but his son doesn’t, so we should figure out how to help his son get one too. Let me explain: my children are both mine and Anthony’s, while Anthony’s son is from his first marriage. Why should I be the one to worry about his son’s housing? Of course, I knew Anthony had been married before and had a child. That’s one reason I wasn’t in a rush to marry him. We lived together for three years before tying the knot. I carefully watched how he felt about his ex-wife and his son. A year later, I had a son. After another two years, I had a second son. I’m completely happy with Anthony, both as a husband and a father. He makes time for me and the children. He earns good money. Of course, we argue sometimes—what family doesn’t? We lived in the flat I inherited from my dad. My mum divorced him when I was very young. Now she’s remarried, but didn’t have kids with her new husband. Anthony and his ex always lived in rented properties. They tried saving for a mortgage together, but never managed it. After their divorce, his ex moved back in with her parents, and Anthony rented a place on his own. When we married, he moved in with me. We never discussed who owns the flat. It was just our home—we did renovations, bought new furniture. But a year and a half ago, both my grandmothers passed away. They left their flats to me in their wills. While my boys are little, I decided to rent those flats out. Later, each son will get one. Right now, I give my mum the rent from one flat to supplement her pension. The rent from the other helps with my income—extra money is always useful. My husband never interfered in my property affairs—it was none of his business. I told him from the start: when our boys are grown, each gets a flat. He agreed, and that was that. Then, out of the blue, he said: — My son finishes sixth form soon. He needs to start thinking about his future! I wasn’t sure what he was hinting at, but I listened. — Your boys have flats, but my son doesn’t! We must help him get a place—even if it means taking out a mortgage! — Anthony blurted out. I was stunned! I had so many questions. First, I asked why our boys were suddenly “my” children. He told me not to split hairs. — But my son will never inherit anything. I want him to have a home of his own! — That’s great you care—but your son has a mum and dad. Shouldn’t they provide for him? Why isn’t his mother doing it? My husband explained his ex barely makes ends meet, her parents help where they can, and he can’t manage a mortgage on his own. But, if I help, it would all work out. He expected me to agree to help buy his son a flat with a mortgage, in our names, but for his son. But WE would pay the mortgage. We both have good jobs and rental income—we could manage! Anthony pleaded. Yes, maybe we could—but it would mean serious saving. Anthony still pays child support. And once his son goes to university, Anthony will keep helping, because his ex can’t afford it. So, because of his son, my boys and I would have no holidays, no seaside trips—just constant scrimping. All so Anthony can look like a good dad? I would understand if Anthony had provided our boys their homes and wanted to do the same for his eldest. But I provided the flats for my children—Anthony had nothing to do with it. Why should I pay a mortgage for someone else’s son? I told Anthony straight out—if he’s so concerned, his ex can get the mortgage, and pay it from the child support. — I’m not getting involved! He’s furious and hasn’t spoken to me for a week. It’s a shame he doesn’t see my point.

I say, it hardly seems fair that your children will have flats and my son wont. Lets sort him out with a mortgage!

Recently, my husband, Anthony, announced that it didnt look right for my children to have their own places while his son didnt, and that we ought to think about how to get his lad a flat too. Allow me to clarify: My children are our children (Anthony and myself), and Anthonys son is from his first marriage.

Why, exactly, am I supposed to be losing sleep over sorting accommodation for his son? Now, I did always know Anthony had been married before and had a child, which, to be perfectly honest, was why I kept my distance on the marriage front for a while.

We lived together for about three years before tying the knot officially. I was careful to observe how he felt towards his ex-wife and his son. A year after the wedding, I had my first son. Two years later, our second little chap came along.

Im quite happy with Anthony as both husband and father. Hes good to me and the boys. Hes got a decent job, pulls his weight at home. Of course, theres the odd squabbleas there is in any household worth its salt.

We lived in a flat Id inherited from my father. My mum divorced him when I was a tot in nursery. She remarried eventually, but didnt have any children with Husband No. 2.

Anthony and his first wife always rented, never quite managing to scrape together enough for a deposit despite years of saving and hoping. After their split, she moved back in with her parents, and he continued renting. When we got married, he moved into my place. We didnt get bogged down with who owned whatwe just lived there, did up the place together, picked out new furniture and all that.

Then, about a year and a half ago, both of my grandmothers sadly passed awayone on my mums side, one on my dads. They each left me their flat in their will.

With the boys still small, I decided to rent the properties out for now. The plan: each son gets a flat when hes older. For the moment, I hand the rent from one flat over to my mum to top up her pension, and use the other one as a nice bonus to my own wages. No one ever complained about extra cash, after all.

Anthony never poked his nose into my property businesshe had nothing to do with them. From the start, I told him: one day, each of our sons will get a flat. He was perfectly happy with that. End of story, or so I thought.

Until, out of nowhere, Anthony pipes up:

My sons nearly finished sixth form. Hes practically a manought to be thinking about his future!

I had no idea where this was leading but decided to hear him out.

Your children have their own flats sorted! My son doesnt! Lets get a mortgage, buy him a place! Anthony declared out of the blue.

I was flabbergasted. For starters, I asked why suddenly our sons had become only my sons. Anthony told me not to nitpick.

But my boy will never inherit anything. I want him to have his own place!

Thats all very noble, I said, but surely his mother and father ought to see to that. Why isnt your ex-wife handling it?

Anthony explained that his exs job barely pays the bills and her parents are always bailing her out. Apparently, he himself cant stretch to a mortgage, but if I join in, we can make it work. The idea is wed get a mortgage, the flat would be put in his sons name, but wed be the ones slogging away to make the payments.

Weve got two solid paycheques and money from the let! said Anthony. Well manage!

We might indeed manage, but boy, would we have to tighten our belts. Anthonys still paying child support, and when his sons off to university, hell need even more help as his mothers not exactly rolling in it. So what are we saving for? No holidays for us, no trips to the seasideeverything scrimped and pinched so Anthony can look like Britains dad of the year?

Id totally get it if Anthony had provided our sons with flats and just wanted to be fair to his eldest. But Im the one providing property for my kids; Anthony isnt even a co-owner! So why should I be coughing up for his eldests mortgage?

I told Anthony, in no uncertain terms, if hes so concerned, perhaps his ex-wife would like to take out a mortgage, and maybe she could pay it off with the child support he sends over.

But Im not getting involved! I said.

Now Anthonys in an almighty sulk and hasnt spoken to me for a week. Its a shame he cant see my point but maybe after a spell of silent treatment, hell come round. At the very least, my days are quieter!