Im an only child; though they say I was long awaited, it never really felt like I was truly loved. When I was twenty-three, five months pregnant, doubts started to gnaw at mewas I really my parents daughter? My parents are in their seventies now, and our financial situation is dire. We rent a small flat in Sheffield, barely scraping by. Both my husband and I juggle university with part-time jobs, but its never enough. Twice our landlord threatened eviction because of unpaid rent, and we had to borrow money from friends just to get by. Now were in debt, sometimes struggling just to have enough for proper meals. Every now and then, Mum and Dad drop off a food parcel.
It was my parents who so desperately wanted us to marry, so, without much second thought, we registered at the town hall last year. After that, they started dropping hints about having grandchildren. Mother was relentless, always reminding me that I needed to have a baby, warning that I might become an old parent like her if I waited too long. But we werent ready for childrenbetween the bills and our own exhaustion, parenthood felt like a mountain we could barely see, let alone climb. Thats when my parents made us an offer. If I had a baby, theyd give us a substantial sumenough pounds to buy a cottage in the countryside. In return, theyd move out to the village, and we could take over their city flat. We thought it over. It seemed like a lifeline, a way to stop worrying about rent, maybe even spend on things we needed. Mum promised shed mind the baby herself, so I could continue my studies.
There were promises of financial help, money for nappies, clothes, the whole lot. But not one word was kept. They didnt buy a single babygrow. While I was pregnant, my mother would ring to ask about the birth preparations, whilst I could hardly afford the simplest thingssometimes Id just sit and stare at empty shopping baskets, wondering what to do. Shed hint that my husband should pick up a third job to cover the expenses. When I reminded her of the promisethe support, the cottage, all of itshe flatly denied ever agreeing, and chastised us for being reckless.
When my daughter Amelia was born, suddenly my parents remembered their talk of money, perhaps ashamed of how theyd left us. But by then, my husband and I had decided to buy our own flat on the edge of town, knowing at last wed have to rely on ourselves and no one else.
