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Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “For ages now, the care home has been crying out for you! Get out of our family!” I screamed in a cracking voice. The object of my utter indignation was my cousin, James. God, I adored him as a child! Golden hair, cornflower-blue eyes, a cheerful spirit—that was James all over. …Relatives often gathered at our holiday table. Out of all my cousins, I singled out James. He could charm with his words and was a talented artist, too. Some evenings, he’d sketch five or six pictures in no time at all. I’d stare and melt, unable to tear myself away from the beauty. Quietly, I’d tuck his drawings away in my desk, treasuring my cousin’s art. James was two years older than me. When he turned 14, his mother died suddenly—she just didn’t wake up… The question arose—where would James go now? They rushed first to his biological father. Finding him wasn’t easy: James’s parents had long been divorced, and his dad had a new family—no intention of disrupting their peaceful life. The rest of the relatives just shrugged—they had their own cares and families. Turns out, family is everywhere during the day, but once the sun sets, you can’t find a trace. So, my parents, already with two children, became James’s guardians. After all, his late mother was my dad’s younger sister. At first, I was excited James would be living with us. But… On his very first day, something about his behavior made me uneasy. Mum, trying to comfort the orphan, asked, “Is there anything you’d like, James? Please, don’t be shy.” James answered right away, “A model train set.” Let me note: that toy was expensive. I was shocked—your mum’s gone, and all you want is a train set? My parents bought him his dream, and after that, it snowballed—”Buy me a cassette player, jeans, a branded jacket…” This was the Eighties. Not only was it expensive, but those things were hard to find. My parents, making sacrifices for their own kids, fulfilled the orphan’s every wish. And my brother and I understood—never complained. …When James turned 16, the girls started appearing. My cousin proved very amorous. More disturbing—he started pursuing me, his own cousin. But as an athlete, I dodged all his inappropriate advances. We even ended up fighting. I’d cry buckets. My parents never knew—I didn’t want to upset them. Children usually keep quiet about such things. After I pushed back, James quickly shifted his attention to my friends. They, by the way, competed for his affection. …James also stole—blatantly and shamelessly. I had a piggy bank, where I’d save for gifts for Mum and Dad. One day—it was empty. James denied it outright—never blinked or blushed. My soul was torn apart! How could he? Living in the same house and stealing? He vandalized our family’s bonds. I sulked, but James honestly didn’t see the problem. He thought everyone owed him. I came to hate him. That’s when I shouted at the top of my voice: “Get out of our family!” I lashed him with my words—said so much, you couldn’t collect it all. Mum barely managed to calm me. From that moment, James ceased to exist to me. I ignored him completely. Later, I learned the other relatives already knew what “piece of work” James was—they all lived nearby and had seen plenty. Our family lived in a different part of town. James’s former teachers had warned my parents: “Taking him in, you’re bringing trouble on yourselves—he’ll lead your own kids astray.” …At his new school, James met Kate, who would love him all her life. They married right out of school and had a daughter. Kate patiently endured his outbursts, endless lies, and countless affairs. As they say, misery loves company, and marriage only doubled her woes. James took full advantage of Kate’s unwavering love. …James was drafted into the army, serving in Yorkshire. There, he started another family—somehow, he managed it during leave. After his service, he stayed in Yorkshire, where he’d fathered a son. But Kate, without hesitation, traveled to Yorkshire and by hook or by crook brought him back home. My parents never heard a word of gratitude from James, though that’s not why they took him in. …Now James Edward is sixty. He’s a regular at the local Anglican church. He and Kate have five grandchildren. It all seems fine, but the bitterness from our relationship with James remains to this day… And I wouldn’t eat honey with him for the world.

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THE BITTER END OF THE SOUL

Youve been overdue for a boarding school for years! Get out of our family! I shrieked, my voice wobbling so hard it nearly knocked the crockery off the table.

The object of my flaming outrage? My cousin, Toby.

Honestly, Id adored that boy as a child. Flaxen hair, bluebell eyes, the sort of easy-going charm that made you want to run through meadows barefoot. That was Toby.

Back in those days, our lot were always crowding round the table for every birthday, Christmas, or excuse to eat cake. Out of all my cousins, Toby was the one that shone, always spinning stories faster than my gran could knit a scarf, and talented toohe could sketch half a dozen pencil drawings in one sitting. Id stand there, spellbound, then squirrel the masterpieces away in my desk where nobody else could find them. I guarded his work as though he was the next Turner.

Toby was two years my senior.

But then, when he was 14, the world took a nasty turn. His mummy dads younger sisterdied in her sleep. Just like that.

Suddenly, everybody was in a panic about what to do with Toby. Of course, they went looking for his dad firstnever an easy mission. His parents had split yonks ago, and his father, already installed in another happy family, had no intention of disrupting the household equilibrium, as he put it.

After that, all the aunts and uncles shrugged in perfect unison. Too many responsibilities, my dear, so sorry, lifes rather full at the moment. And just like that, the relatives vanished faster than sunshine in February.

So, with two kids already in tow, my parents took Toby in. They sorted out the legal guardian papers and everything.

At first, I was chuffed. Toby, in our house! But, well

On his very first day, something felt off. Mum tried to cheer him up, the poor orphan: Is there anything you want, love? Just say!

Without hesitation, Toby blurted out, A model train set.

Now, that was no cheap wish. I was gobsmacked. His mum had just diedthe most important person in his worldand his top priority was a toy railway? How, I wondered, could someone even think like that?

Of course, my parents bought the train set. And from then on, it snowballed: Get me a Walkman, jeans, a branded jacket This was the 1980s; not only were these things rare as hens teeth, they cost an arm and a leg. My parents kept obliging, shortchanging us, their own children, for Tobys benefit. My brother and I tried to be gracious about it.

By 16, Toby had discovered girls. Turns out, he was a bit of a Casanova. Worse, he started flirting with mehis own cousin! As a budding athlete, I knew how to dodge and weave, but we clashed more than once. I sometimes ended up sobbing for hours, but I never let on to my parentsyou dont exactly start that sort of conversation over Sunday roast.

After realising I was thoroughly uninterested, Toby quickly shifted focus to my friends, who, weirdly, started vying for his attention.

And then there was the stealing. Bold as brass, too. I had a piggy bank where I saved up my lunch money to surprise my parents with gifts. One day it was empty. Toby feigned ignoranceNot me!without so much as batting an eyelid. I was torn to pieces as I tried to fathom how someone living under the same roof could pinch from family. He was bulldozing through our household rules, and while I sulked for weeks, Toby seemed genuinely puzzled by my reaction. In his eyes, everyone owed him. My affection turned into open hatred, and finally, bellowing, I told him to get out.

I gave him a tongue-lashing so epic it couldve been bottled and sold at the market.

Mum just about managed to calm me down. From that day, Toby ceased to exist for me. I ignored him completely. Later, I found out the rest of the family already knew what a rotten apple Toby wastheyd had a front row seat all along, living nearby, while we were in another part of town.

Teachers had even warned my parents: Taking Toby in is a mistakehell ruin your children.

At his new school, Toby found Emma, a girl who fell for him head over heels and married him as soon as theyd finished their A-levels. They had a daughter, and Emma endured all his shenaniganslies, endless affairsyou name it. The saying goes, single and miserable, marry in haste, misery doubled, or something like that.

Toby never stopped milking Emmas devotion, right to the end.

He ended up drafted into the army and shipped off to, of all places, Yorkshire. There, he started a second family while on leave. After demob, he stayed up north, where his son had just been born. Emma, plucky soul that she was, followed him and managed, by sheer willpower and a bit of creative storytelling, to drag him back to the family fold.

My parents never saw a glimmer of gratitude from Toby, although honestly, they hadnt done it for thanks.

Now TobyToby William Smithhas just turned 60. Hes a loyal attendee at the local Anglican church. He and Emma are up to five grandchildren.

The world would say alls well that ends well, but, truth be told, the lingering bitterness about Tobys years with us has never really sweetened. And, as they say, not even a spoonful of honey can help it go down.

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Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “For ages now, the care home has been crying out for you! Get out of our family!” I screamed in a cracking voice. The object of my utter indignation was my cousin, James. God, I adored him as a child! Golden hair, cornflower-blue eyes, a cheerful spirit—that was James all over. …Relatives often gathered at our holiday table. Out of all my cousins, I singled out James. He could charm with his words and was a talented artist, too. Some evenings, he’d sketch five or six pictures in no time at all. I’d stare and melt, unable to tear myself away from the beauty. Quietly, I’d tuck his drawings away in my desk, treasuring my cousin’s art. James was two years older than me. When he turned 14, his mother died suddenly—she just didn’t wake up… The question arose—where would James go now? They rushed first to his biological father. Finding him wasn’t easy: James’s parents had long been divorced, and his dad had a new family—no intention of disrupting their peaceful life. The rest of the relatives just shrugged—they had their own cares and families. Turns out, family is everywhere during the day, but once the sun sets, you can’t find a trace. So, my parents, already with two children, became James’s guardians. After all, his late mother was my dad’s younger sister. At first, I was excited James would be living with us. But… On his very first day, something about his behavior made me uneasy. Mum, trying to comfort the orphan, asked, “Is there anything you’d like, James? Please, don’t be shy.” James answered right away, “A model train set.” Let me note: that toy was expensive. I was shocked—your mum’s gone, and all you want is a train set? My parents bought him his dream, and after that, it snowballed—”Buy me a cassette player, jeans, a branded jacket…” This was the Eighties. Not only was it expensive, but those things were hard to find. My parents, making sacrifices for their own kids, fulfilled the orphan’s every wish. And my brother and I understood—never complained. …When James turned 16, the girls started appearing. My cousin proved very amorous. More disturbing—he started pursuing me, his own cousin. But as an athlete, I dodged all his inappropriate advances. We even ended up fighting. I’d cry buckets. My parents never knew—I didn’t want to upset them. Children usually keep quiet about such things. After I pushed back, James quickly shifted his attention to my friends. They, by the way, competed for his affection. …James also stole—blatantly and shamelessly. I had a piggy bank, where I’d save for gifts for Mum and Dad. One day—it was empty. James denied it outright—never blinked or blushed. My soul was torn apart! How could he? Living in the same house and stealing? He vandalized our family’s bonds. I sulked, but James honestly didn’t see the problem. He thought everyone owed him. I came to hate him. That’s when I shouted at the top of my voice: “Get out of our family!” I lashed him with my words—said so much, you couldn’t collect it all. Mum barely managed to calm me. From that moment, James ceased to exist to me. I ignored him completely. Later, I learned the other relatives already knew what “piece of work” James was—they all lived nearby and had seen plenty. Our family lived in a different part of town. James’s former teachers had warned my parents: “Taking him in, you’re bringing trouble on yourselves—he’ll lead your own kids astray.” …At his new school, James met Kate, who would love him all her life. They married right out of school and had a daughter. Kate patiently endured his outbursts, endless lies, and countless affairs. As they say, misery loves company, and marriage only doubled her woes. James took full advantage of Kate’s unwavering love. …James was drafted into the army, serving in Yorkshire. There, he started another family—somehow, he managed it during leave. After his service, he stayed in Yorkshire, where he’d fathered a son. But Kate, without hesitation, traveled to Yorkshire and by hook or by crook brought him back home. My parents never heard a word of gratitude from James, though that’s not why they took him in. …Now James Edward is sixty. He’s a regular at the local Anglican church. He and Kate have five grandchildren. It all seems fine, but the bitterness from our relationship with James remains to this day… And I wouldn’t eat honey with him for the world.