Letting All the Wrong People In
Dad, where did all these new things come from? Did you raid an antique shop while I was away? Chloe stared in disbelief at the crocheted white doily placed on her dresser. I never realised you had a thing for old knick-knacks. Your taste honestly reminds me of Granny Joan
Oh, Chloe? What a surprise, you didnt call ahead. David Williams emerged from the kitchen, feigning cheerfulness, though his expression was undeniably guilty.
He tried to look upbeat, but I could tell something was off.
Well, clearly you werent expecting me, I told him, lips pursed as I stepped into the living room, bracing for more oddities. Dad Whats all this? Whats happening here?
I didnt recognise my own flat.
…When I first inherited the place from Grandma Joan, the sight was honestly dismal. There was saggy, floral British furniture, a bulky, ancient telly perched on a battered stand, rusty radiators, wallpaper peeling at the corners Still, it was mine. By then, Id saved a modest sum. I put that towards a full renovation, not just a quick fix either. I went for a modern, Scandinavian look: bright and airy, minimalist and spacious. I took pride in choosing the right curtains, arranging plush white rugs, finding tasteful finishing touches
None of that remained. My thick blackout curtains had been swapped for twee net curtains. The Italian sofa was buried under a synthetic throw with a garish grinning tiger. The coffee table boasted a pink plastic vase with equally artificial neon roses.
But that was just the beginning. The smells were even worse greasy oil frying and cheap fish, cigarette smoke wafting in from the kitchen. My dad never smoked
Chloe, you see David finally responded. Its a bit complicated Im not alone. I meant to tell you before, but didnt quite manage it.
Not alone? I faltered. Dad, we didnt agree on this!
Chloe, come on. My life didnt end with your mum. Im still a young man not even drawing a pension yet. Surely I have a right to some happiness?
I was so thrown I couldnt answer at first. He was entitled to move on, date, sure. But not here. In my home.
…My parents split last year. Mum took Dads affair in stride almost grateful for the release and threw herself into Pilates and book clubs with her mountain of gal pals. No wallowing for her. But Dad was lost. He retreated to his pre-marriage flat and was horrified. For years, hed rented it out, and then the last tenant fell asleep with a lit cigarette. There was no money for repairs, so Dad just ignored the place until the memories faded. He never sold it, but planned never to move back.
Frankly, it was unlivable: charred, sooty walls, smashed windows, mould creeping across the sills it looked more haunted than homely.
Chloe, love, I dont know what to do now Dad had sighed back then. Its just dangerous here, and Ill never finish the repairs by winter. I havent got the funds, and if I freeze, so be it
I couldnt leave the man who raised me in such a state. What if something happened? Especially since my flat was now empty Id just married and moved in with my husband. Given Dads track record with tenants, I had zero intention of renting out my beloved flat.
Come stay at mine for now, Dad, Id told him. Everythings set up there, all the comforts sorted. You can do your repairs slowly at your own place, then move back once its ready. Only one condition: no guests.
Seriously? Dad was gobsmacked. Thank you, Chloe, youre a lifesaver. I promise itll be quiet, no trouble.
Quiet. Well.
While I replayed our conversation, the bathroom door swung open in a cloud of scented steam. Out strolled a woman, about fifty, clothed in my favourite towelling robe. The one I adored. She was spilling out of it.
Oh Davey, do we have company? she croaked in a deep, smoky voice, flashing a superior smile. You could have told me, Im still in my loungewear.
And you are? I narrowed my eyes. And why are you wearing my robe?
Im Janet, your fathers partner. Why are you so uptight? I borrowed the robe. It was just hanging there, unused.
My temples throbbed with indignation.
Take it off. Now, I said through gritted teeth.
Chloe! Dad pleaded, hovering between us. Dont make a scene! Janet just
Janet just stole my things in my home! I cut him off. Dad, seriously? You brought your girlfriend here and let her paw through my stuff without asking?
Janet rolled her eyes with dramatic disdain and waddled over to the tiger blanket, collapsing onto my sofa.
Rude girl, she huffed. If I were David, Id teach you some respect, regardless of age. Is this how you talk to your own father? His choice to move in with another woman is none of your concern, darling.
I was speechless. Utterly. This interloper was telling me off, sitting smugly on my furniture.
None of my concern, I replied. But only as long as its not happening in my flat.
Your flat? Janet shot Dad a questioning look.
He shrank against the wall, eyes flitting between furious daughter and brash companion. If he hoped the storm would blow over, the forecast had just worsened.
Has my dad not told you? I smiled frostily. This is my home. Hes just a guest here. Every last fork and mug was bought by me. I agreed to let him stay, but I never expected him to parade his special lady friends through.
Janets face turned bright crimson.
David? Her voice was frosty now. What is this about? You said this was your place. Were you lying?
Dad flushed with shame.
Well Janet, I just You misunderstood me. Ive got my own place, just not this one. I didnt want to bog you down with details.
Not bog me down? Great, now thanks to you Im getting lectured by a total stranger!
I’d had enough.
Out, I said quietly.
What? Janet was stunned.
Out. Both of you. Youve got an hour. After that, were having this conversation with the police. Thats what I get for trying to be helpful
I headed for the door, but Dad, finally unsticking himself from the wall, grabbed my sleeve.
Chloe! Youre kicking your own father out? You know what my place is like! Ill freeze there!
He clung to me, and for a moment my heart wavered: childhood memories, a sense of duty, pity for a not-so-young parent My throat tightened.
Then I glanced at Janet.
She sat there in my robe, legs crossed, glaring at me with absolute loathing. All hesitation vanished. Leave it now, and shed change the locks tomorrow, redecorate the place in leopard print.
Dad, youre a grown man. Rent a place, I said, pulling away. You broke our agreement. You were supposed to live alone, but brought this woman here, let her take my things and wreck my home…
Oh, keep your precious flat! Janet sneered. Lets go, David. Dont lower yourself to her level. Ungrateful brat
Half an hour of packing, and it was resolved. Dad left in silence, hunched, suddenly elderly. His look wounded, like a dog forced out in the rain would stay with me forever. But I endured, never flinching.
Once they were gone, my first move was to throw open the windows to purge the stink of fish, smoke and cheap perfume. I gathered up the robe, the throw, every last thing Janet had touched straight to the bin. Next day, I had cleaners in and changed the locks. I couldnt stomach anything shed left behind. Especially her.
…Four days passed.
Now the flat contained nothing foreign. No fake flowers, no ugly odours. I lived with my husband now, but knowing the flat was restored felt like a breath of fresh air.
I didnt speak to Dad. On day four, he called.
Hello? I answered, hesitating.
Well, Chloe Dad slurred, sounding tipsy. Happy now? Janets gone. She ditched me
How shocking, I couldnt help but reply. Let me guess: she saw your wrecked flat, realised there was work to do, and bailed?
Dad sniffled.
Yes I put a heater in, slept on a blow-up mattress. She lasted three days. Said I was a pauper and a liar packed her bags and went to her sisters. Said she wasted her time We were in love, Chloe!
Call it what you want, Dad. You were both just looking for comfort nothing more. You both miscalculated.
He hesitated, then carried on.
I cant stand being alone, Chloe, he said quietly. Its miserable here Can I come back? Ill be alone, I swear! Promise!
I lowered my eyes. My father was sat somewhere, surrounded by cold and chaos. But he alone built that mess: cheating on Mum, lying to me, sweet-talking Janet.
Yes, I felt sorry for him. But sympathy could poison us both.
No, Dad. You cant come back, I told him. Get some professionals in and fix the place. Learn to live with the consequences of your own choices. The best I can offer is recommending hard workers. Call me if you need advice.
I hung up.
Was it harsh? Maybe. But I didnt want anyone leaving stains on my robe or on my soul again. Some messes you cant clean up better not to let them in at all.
Lesson learned: kindness needs boundaries,
and sometimes, a locked door is the most merciful act.
