Walton Merritt

“It Doesn’t Look Right That Your Kids Will Have Homes While My Son Won’t—Let’s Get Him a Flat with a Mortgage!” Recently, my husband Anthony pointed out that my children have homes, but his son does not, so we need to figure out how to get his son a place to live too. Let me explain: my children are both mine and Anthony’s, while Anthony’s son is from his first marriage. Why am I the one expected to worry about finding his son a home? Of course, I always knew Anthony had been married before and had a child. That’s why I wasn’t in a hurry to marry Anthony. We lived together for three years before getting married. I paid close attention to how he felt about his ex-wife and son. A year later, I gave birth to our son. Two more years passed, and I had our second son. I’m happy with Anthony—he’s a good husband and father. He spends plenty of time with me and the kids and earns a good salary. Of course, we have the occasional disagreement, but that’s normal in any family. We lived in the flat I inherited from my father. My mother divorced him when I was still in nursery school. She’s since remarried but didn’t have any children with her second husband. Anthony and his first wife always rented. They saved for a mortgage for years but never managed to get one. After their divorce, Anthony’s ex-wife moved back in with her parents. Anthony rented on his own until we got married, and then he moved in with me. We never really discussed who owned the flat—we just lived there together, did renovations, and bought new furniture for the place. About a year and a half ago, both my grandmothers—my mum’s mum and my dad’s mum—passed away. They both left me their flats in their wills. While my sons are still young, I decided to rent out those flats. Later on, I’ll give each son one of the flats. At the moment, I give the rent from one to my mum as a supplement to her pension, and the other supports my own income—extra money is always useful. Anthony never involved himself in my property matters; after all, it’s none of his business. I made it clear that, when our children grow up, each of them will receive one of the flats, and he agreed. That was that—the topic was closed. Then, out of the blue, Anthony said to me: “My son will be finishing secondary school in a few years. He’s an adult now—he needs to think about his future!” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but listened anyway. “Your kids have homes! My son doesn’t! Let’s buy my son a flat with a mortgage!” he suddenly declared. I was simply stunned and had a million questions. First, I asked: why are our kids suddenly just mine? Anthony asked me not to nit-pick his words. “But my son will never inherit anything. I want him to have a home of his own!” “That’s great that you care! But your son has a mum and a dad—shouldn’t they be the ones to handle that? Why doesn’t your ex sort it?” Anthony explained his ex-wife doesn’t make much, her parents help her, and he himself can’t afford a mortgage alone. But, he said, if I help, everything will work out. Apparently, I’m expected to co-sign for a mortgage so Anthony can buy a flat for his son. The flat would be in the son’s name, but we would pay off the mortgage. “Between our two good salaries and the rental income, we could do it!” Anthony insisted. We could, but we’d have to save pretty hard. Plus, Anthony pays child maintenance for his son. When the boy goes to university, Anthony will help again, as his mum has no money. So, in the end, my children and I would have to give up holidays, trips to the seaside, and generally scrimp and save. For what? Just so Anthony looks like a good dad? I’d understand if Anthony had provided homes for our children and wanted to do the same for his eldest. But I’m the one who secured the homes for my children—Anthony had nothing to do with the properties. Why should I pay for his mortgage? I told Anthony straight away: if he’s so worried about his son, his ex should take out a mortgage, and they can pay it off with the child maintenance. “But I won’t have anything to do with it!” Anthony is furious and hasn’t spoken to me in a week. It’s a shame he doesn’t understand my point of view.

It doesnt look right that your children will have homes and my son wont. Lets sort him out with a place

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Recently, I Met a Young Mother Walking Down the Street with Her One-and-a-Half-Year-Old Daughter, Completely Oblivious to the World Around Her

Not long ago, I ran into a woman as she strolled down the street with her one-and-a-half-year-old daughter

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Changed His Mind About Getting Married Archie Spent Late Nights in His Laboratory Mixing Strange Powders, Oblivious to the Young Cleaner Sophie’s Affection, Until Her Homemade Sausages Drew Him Out—But a Chaotic Visit to Her Rural Family Sends Him Reeling, Caught Between Love, Eccentric Relatives, and Second Thoughts About Saying “I Do”

Changed My Mind About Marriage It was another late evening for Arthur, hunched over his bench in the

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A Child for a Friend When Lily was nearing the final months of her pregnancy, her younger brother left home and her father turned to drink. From that moment, Lily’s life became a nightmare. Every morning began with Lily airing out the house, sweeping empty bottles from under the table, and waiting for her father to wake up. “Dad, you shouldn’t be drinking. You barely recovered from your stroke.” “I’ll drink if I want. Who can stop me? It dulls the pain.” “What pain?” “The pain of knowing I’m needed by no one. Not even you. I’m a burden to you. I’m a lost cause, Lily. Never should’ve been born, never should’ve married and brought up kids who inherited nothing but weakness and poverty from me. Everything’s been for nothing. Easier to drink.” Already in low spirits, Lily grew angry. “Not everything is for nothing, Dad. People have it worse.” “Worse than this? You grew up motherless. Now you’re going to raise a baby without a father, and both of you will still be poor.” “It’s not all gloom, Dad. Life is unpredictable—everything can change.” Lily sadly recalled how happy she’d been not so long ago, engaged to Ilya. Yes, life had fallen apart, but she had to keep living. That day, her father got drunk again. Lily shouted in frustration: “You drank the money I saved?! How did you find it? You searched through my things?!” “Everything in this house belongs to me,” her father declared, “including the pension you’re hiding from me! My pension.” “And you drank it all? Didn’t think about how we’ll survive?” “Why should I care? I’m a sick man. You’re an adult now—take care of me!” Lily searched every cabinet. “I’m sure there were two packs of pasta and some butter left yesterday. Now there’s nothing! What are we meant to eat tonight?” Lily was stunned. She sat down, covering her face. Little did she know that Auntie Natasha had made a habit of coming round, plying her father with drink and helping herself to bits and pieces from the house. Natasha had slithered quietly into their lives and seemed intent on finishing off their family. That night, Lily cried herself to sleep. She lay in bed, broken and hungry. In the morning, there was a knock. In came Natalia Anatolievna. Dressed in a chic coat and heeled boots. She didn’t take off her shoes—just marched in. “My friend in the utilities office told me you have debts and the electricity will be cut off soon. What’s going on, Lily? Maybe you’ll offer me a cup of tea?” Not waiting for an answer, Natasha started searching the kitchen cupboards and fridge. “I’ll make the tea myself—you’re pregnant, just like my daughter, Sveta… Looks like there’s no sugar or even tea in the house. Not a thing. Right, let’s go shopping.” Lily avoided eye contact. “Aunt Natasha, I’m not making any tea. You should go.” But Natasha wouldn’t be dismissed. “You’ve got problems, I can see that. Remember I once offered you to move in with me? I’m not asking this time—I’m insisting. Come live with me. Your father is drinking, you haven’t got enough food for a growing baby, let alone yourself. You need vitamins and fruit… Pack your things and let’s go.” Lily sat down weakly, her head spinning. Tears spilled over as Natasha hugged her. “Listen, dear, I know how you feel about me. I know you can’t forgive my daughter for stealing your fiancé. But I’m not heartless, and I can’t stand to see you suffer. Like it or not—I’m going to help you.” Everything after felt like a blur: Natasha helped Lily pack, called a taxi, and moved her in. *** On the day Lily went into labour, Natasha Anatolievna never left her side. “Listen carefully, Lily. I’ve already told the staff that you want to give up the baby. When you give birth, don’t hold her, don’t feed her. Don’t even look at her.” Groaning with pain, Lily replied: “Aunt Natasha, I don’t care. Anything to stop the pain… I just want this over.” “Remember what I told you—it would be impossible for you to raise this child yourself. I’ve found a respectable couple who would adopt her straight away.” A few hours later, a baby girl was born. “Three kilos three hundred—healthy, all good,” the nurse said, carrying her away without showing her to Lily. But the paediatrician gave Lily a stern look. “What’s going on here? You’ve a healthy, beautiful child and won’t even look at her. Elena Petrovna, bring the baby back and let her nurse.” Lily shook her head, upset. “I don’t want to. I can barely survive—I never wanted to give birth… There are people who need her more—I’ll sign her over for adoption.” “Don’t be ridiculous, at least look at her.” Lily squeezed her eyes shut—but then she felt something warm and soft brush her hand. The nurse laid the baby next to her. The baby whimpered and snuggled in, rooting for her mother. At last, Lily looked at her daughter. A tiny, helpless creature stared up at her, eyes half-closed, reaching out blindly, fists clutching at Lily’s chest. “Well, Mum? Let’s feed your baby,” the paediatrician smiled, brightening as Lily shivered at the sight of her daughter. “She’s such a sweetheart, and she needs you—not adoptive parents.” Lily wept, gathering her daughter in her arms and nodding. For the next two hours, Lily rested with her newborn, unable to take her eyes off her. That was when her maternal instinct awoke. “This is what my life is for—my daughter. It doesn’t matter if Ilya is gone or my father’s drinking… My daughter needs me, and I’ll be there for her.” *** Lily woke to Natalia’s voice. Natasha, now in a dressing gown, had come into the ward and was looking at her in bed. “Did you forget our agreement?” she asked quietly. “You promised you’d give up the baby. I already arranged with people who will take her.” “Natasha Anatolievna, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not giving her to anyone.” “But you’ve nowhere to go, no money—you’re basically homeless. Where will you take her?” “Home. I won’t trouble you further—I’ll manage.” Lily saw Natasha’s face twist into an ugly scowl. “Are you mad!? You’ve no money! What will you live on—begging?” Natasha’s shouting woke the baby. Lily got up and went to her. “Don’t touch! I’ll comfort and feed her. We’ll just tell the doctors you’ve no milk,” Natasha insisted. Lily shook her head, firm. “This isn’t your decision. She’s my daughter. I told you—I’ve changed my mind and won’t give her up.” “You can’t! You promised!” Natasha wailed, helpless. “Please leave.” Natasha stormed out. Lily’s roommate, quiet till now, sat up. “Who was that?” “My aunt.” “Awful. Don’t listen to her. You did the right thing kicking her out. I’m Laura. If you need help, just ask—there are kind people in the world.” “I’m Lily.” “Lovely to meet you. And honestly, what a weird woman! Looked as if she meant to snatch your baby right out of the crib.” *** Just before discharge, Lily was called out into the corridor. Standing awkwardly was her former friend, Sue, heavily pregnant. “Hi.” Lily sat carefully beside her. Sue fidgeted. “I heard you had the baby.” “Yes. A girl.” Sue glanced away nervously. “Lily, you know Mum found people to adopt your child, right?” “So?” “They’re wonderful people—wealthy, will do anything to have her.” Sue took Lily’s hand. “They’re offering a hundred thousand pounds. Imagine it! You could buy a place to live—maybe even a small flat.” “A hundred thousand, you say?” Lily nodded. “Well, if you care about them so much, give them your own baby.” Sue pouted but didn’t let go. “Wait, Lily! Give the baby to me! I’ll raise her—she’s Ilya’s daughter after all.” “You think you can handle two babies?” “You don’t understand, Lily! My family is falling apart!” Fed up, Lily stood to leave, but Sue grabbed her sleeve, eyes wild. “I need this baby, Lily!” “Let go.” …A couple of hours later, Ilya himself burst into the ward. Lily flinched at the sight of him. “So, you’ve given birth? Can I see her?” “No, you can’t! Your precious Sue will give birth soon—you can look at that one!” “We need to talk, Lily. I haven’t been able to think straight since you gave birth. Look, I want to take our daughter—give her up, and I promise I’ll adopt her immediately.” Lily shook her head. “I’m not like you—I could never walk away from someone who needs me. You’re wasting your time—I’ll never let you have my daughter!” Ilya wouldn’t leave, getting more agitated. “Give me her! You had no right to have my child! I’ll take what’s mine!” “Oh, please. Go get your mother’s permission first, mummy’s boy.” Lily pushed her ex aside, scooped up her baby, and went to the nurses’ station. “Could I ask you not to let anyone else visit me? I don’t want to see anyone—this isn’t a railway station!” Epilogue On discharge day, Lily left the hospital holding her daughter tight. She wasn’t alone—her roommate Laura was leaving too, greeted by her husband and mum. Lily stopped, spotting the Reznikovs’ car. Out stepped Ilya’s mother, Valerie Jacobs, scrutinising Lily with a cold, predatory stare. A shiver ran down Lily’s spine. Her ex-future-mother-in-law looked ready to pounce. Laura noticed Lily’s discomfort and came over. “Who are they, Lily?” “Ilya’s parents.” “The look she’s giving you—honestly, it’s creepy. They’ve all gone for you as if by some plan. You remember my mum’s got a room for you—come on, let’s go.” Lily nodded, uneasy herself. *** Living with her new friends, Lily unexpectedly found new love—Laura’s cousin, bachelor Ivan, started courting her. Ivan turned out to be a kind, good man. He married Lily, adopted her daughter, and even helped her father-in-law. As for Sue and Ilya—their marriage collapsed. Turns out, Sue faked her pregnancy with a cushion, deceiving the entire Jacobs family. To protect her daughter, Natasha told the truth about Sue’s early miscarriage—and then proposed a “solution” to her son-in-law: “Ilya, don’t be cross with my daughter. Yes, her pregnancy ended early—but you’re not innocent yourself. You’ve another baby on the way, haven’t you? So why not take Lily’s baby for yourselves? Adopt her—the child’s yours in a sense. And as for your parents, let’s not mention the miscarriage. We’ll pretend Sue’s still pregnant and, when Lily gives birth, take the baby and tell everyone it’s Sue’s.” Ilya quite liked this plan. Everything was set—until Lily “put her foot down,” refusing to leave her newborn at the hospital. Suddenly, Sue and Natasha were backed into a corner. Ilya’s mother, Valerie Jacobs, furious at having been tricked, sent Sue away and insisted her son get divorced. A Child for a Friend

A Baby for a Friend When Lily was waddling through her last months of pregnancy, her younger brother

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He Set His Sights on Another Man’s Wife: The Curious Tale of Victor Dutton, a Weak-Willed Art Teacher, His Fanciful Studio, Disastrous Marriage, and the Day Sophia Found Her Happily Ever After at the Village Fair

Kept an Eye on Another Mans Wife Living together with Victor Dunham revealed what sort of man he wasweak-willed

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Through Thick and Thin: The Bittersweet Journey of Antonina—From Early Widowhood and Daughter’s Farewell to New Neighbours, Small Village Struggles, and the Search for Love, Belonging, and a Place Called Home

Through Thick and Thin Eleanor was widowed early, at forty-two. By then, her daughter, Jane, had already

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Wife and Father-in-Law Karina only pretended to want to meet Vadim’s parents—what did she need them for anyway? She wasn’t marrying them, and she doubted she’d get anything from his supposedly well-off father but trouble and suspicion. Still, once you’ve decided you’re getting married, you’ve got to see things through. Karina dressed up for the meeting, but kept it simple, aiming to look like a sweet, down-to-earth girl. Meeting the groom’s parents is always fraught with invisible pitfalls, and when they’re clever people, it’s a real test of character. Vadim thought she needed reassurance: “Don’t worry, Karina, just don’t stress. Dad’s gruff but reasonable. They won’t say anything that terrible, and they’ll grow to love you. Dad’s a bit odd, but Mum’s the life of the party,” he told her on the doorstep. Karina just smiled, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. So—grumpy dad, sociable mum. Quite the combination. She smirked inwardly. The house didn’t impress her; she’d been in grander homes before. They were greeted straightaway. Karina wasn’t too anxious—why fret? People are just people. Nina Hawthorn, as Vadim had mentioned, had been a homemaker for years, went on trips with friends occasionally, but nothing much else. His father, Victor Hawthorn, wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs, but at least he was quiet. Yet his name seemed oddly familiar… They were welcomed inside— And Karina froze on the threshold. This was the end… The future mother-in-law was a stranger, but the future father-in-law she recognised instantly. They’d met three years ago—not often, but always mutually beneficial. In bars, in hotels, in restaurants. Of course, neither Victor’s wife nor his son knew about these meetings. Here we go. Victor clearly recognised her, too. His eyes flashed with something—surprise, shock, or maybe something more sinister, a hint of trouble concocted in silence. Blissfully unaware, Vadim eagerly introduced her. “Mum, Dad, this is Karina. My fiancée. I’d have brought her sooner, but she’s a bit shy.” Great… Victor Hawthorn shook her hand—firm and almost hard. “Lovely to meet you, Karina,” he said, with the faintest trace of… something she couldn’t quite place. Displeasure, or was it a warning, or… Karina braced herself, expecting Victor to tell everyone exactly who she was. “Likewise, Victor,” she replied, hoping to avoid being unmasked right away. Her adrenaline surged. What now… But… nothing came. Victor managed something resembling a smile and even pulled out a chair for her. Perhaps he’d prefer to shame her later… But nothing happened. Suddenly, Karina realised he couldn’t say a word—if he exposed her, he’d expose himself to his wife. After settling in, things were fairly relaxed. Nina regaled them with stories from Vadim’s childhood, and Victor, feigning interest, asked Karina about her work. Oh, he knew a lot about her. His subtle irony didn’t bother her—he even cracked a joke or two that made Karina laugh in spite of herself. But his jokes were laced with hints only they would catch. For instance, he glanced at Karina and observed, “You know, Karina, you remind me of a former… colleague. Also very clever. She knew exactly how to get on with people. With anyone.” Karina wasn’t thrown: “Everyone has their own talents, Victor.” Vadim, in classic lovestruck fashion, gazed at Karina adoringly, missing all the subtext. He really did love her. That was the important—and tragic—part for him. Later, when travel was mentioned, Victor looked at Karina and said, “I, for example, prefer secluded places—no fuss, just peace and a good book. How about you, Karina?” He’d caught her out. “I like being around people, noisy and lively,” Karina replied coolly, “Though sometimes extra ears can be a risk.” Briefly, almost imperceptibly, Nina seemed to notice something. Karina caught the darkening look, but Nina brushed aside any troubling thoughts. Victor knew Karina was not the quiet type. He knew why. When the evening ended, and it was time for bed, Victor hugged Vadim. “Look after her, son. She’s… special.” It sounded at once complimentary and mocking—although only Karina caught the real meaning. Karina felt the whole room’s temperature drop. “Special.” That was the word he picked. *** That night, Karina lay awake, turning over the unexpected reunion and wondering how to navigate the new situation. She guessed Victor, like herself, wasn’t asleep—he from shock, she from anticipation of the looming conversation. And, well, everything else. She got up quietly, threw a hoodie over her pyjamas, and slipped out, making deliberate but not over-loud noise down the stairs—enough for fellow insomniacs to hear. Out in the garden, she waited on the porch, knowing he’d spot her. She didn’t have to wait long. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, coming up behind her. “Restless, that’s all,” Karina replied. A gentle wind carried the familiar scent of his cologne. He studied her intently. “What do you want from my son, Karina?” All pretence gone. “I know what you’re capable of. I know there have been others like me in your life. You’ve always been after money. You never hid it, not really. What are you after with Vadim?” If he wouldn’t mention the past, neither would Karina. She flashed a smile: “I love him, Victor. Why shouldn’t I?” He wasn’t convinced. “You? Love? Please. I know what you are, Karina. And I will tell Vadim everything—what you did, who you really are. Think he’ll still marry you after that?” Karina stepped closer, until only an arm’s length separated them. Tilting her head, she studied him. As if she hadn’t seen enough already! “Go ahead, Victor,” she said, drawing out the words, “But then your wife will hear our little secret, too.” “That’s—” “Not blackmail. Reciprocity. If you tell everyone how we met, I’ll fill in all the details about what we did. Trust me, I’ll top up your story.” “That’s not the same—” “Really? Will you tell your wife the same thing?” Victor stopped cold. His attempt at intimidation had failed. He realised he was cornered. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not. “What will you tell her?” “Not just her. Everyone. Vadim too. I’ll tell them what a family man you are, and which ‘late nights at the office’ you were really working. I’ll tell it all—I’ll have nothing left to lose. If you want to save your son from me, save him.” Not an easy choice. Stop his son’s wedding, and he’d be signing his own divorce papers. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, but you would, and I wouldn’t?” Karina laughed. “If you keep my ‘ambitions’ secret, your own mess stays buried. But if you talk, your wife—sweet, faithful Nina—will know. And she values loyalty.” Once, drunk, he had confessed to Karina about his extramarital adventures. Nina would never forgive that. Never. So now, he had a real decision to make. He knew Karina wasn’t bluffing. “Fine,” he managed, “I won’t say a word. And you… keep quiet, too. No one needs to know. Let’s forget all this ever happened.” That was why Karina wasn’t worried. He had more to lose than she did. “As you wish, Victor.” The next morning, Vadim and Karina left his parents’ house. Under Victor’s loathing stare, Karina said goodbye to his wife—who was already calling her “daughter.” Victor’s eye twitched at that. He hated that he couldn’t warn his son about Karina’s cunning, but was too afraid for himself. If he lost Nina, he’d lose not just a wife but half his wealth. She wouldn’t leave marriage empty-handed. And Vadim was unlikely to ever forgive him… On another visit, Karina and Vadim stayed at his parents’ for two weeks. A proper family holiday. Victor did his best to avoid Karina, making excuses for his absence. But one day, alone in the house, curiosity—and desperation—got the better of him. He decided to snoop through Karina’s bag, hoping to find something to use against her. He rummaged through her things—makeup, organiser, a small notepad. Suddenly, he spotted a blue-and-white object—a pregnancy test. With two clear lines. “All this time I thought the disaster was my son marrying… No, this is the real disaster!” He put it back before he could close the bag—Karina had caught him. “You know, rummaging through people’s things isn’t exactly polite,” she chided with a sarcastic smile—but she didn’t seem too upset. Victor didn’t deny it. “You’re pregnant by Vadim?” Karina slowly took her bag from him, looked him in the eye, and said, “Looks like you’ve spoiled the surprise, Victor.” Victor seethed. Now he could never get rid of Karina. If he ratted her out, he’d doom himself too. Now silence was the only option—even if it drove him mad, knowing what trap his son was in. *** Nine months passed… and then another half year. Vadim and Karina were raising their baby daughter, Alice. Victor made every effort not to visit, not to see them, not to think about it. He didn’t consider Alice his real grandchild. Karina terrified him—her unconcern for Vadim, her shady past. And then—again. Nina was planning to visit Vadim and Karina. “Will you come with me, Victor?” “No, I’ve got a headache.” “Again? This is getting worrying.” “Just tired. You go without me.” As always, Victor feigned migraines, colds, earaches—whatever it took to avoid going. He took a couple of tablets, just for show. He couldn’t bear Karina’s presence. But neither could he confess anything. The evening dragged on, plagued by restless thoughts. He lay down. He read a book. Then he noticed how late Nina was. Eleven at night and still not home. No answer on her phone. Naturally, he called Vadim. “Everything okay over there? Nina’s not back yet. Is she on her way?” “Dad, you’re the last person I want to talk to right now.” And hung up… Victor was about to head over himself when he saw Karina’s car pull up. Seeing her, he nearly fainted. “Why are you here?? What happened?” Karina looked calmly unbothered. She poured herself a glass of wine. Drank. Settled in. “The end of everything.” “What do you mean, the end?” “Our end. All of us. Vadim found old photos of us from a party four years ago on a café website—‘The Oasis,’ remember? He was booking something for our anniversary, saw the site… and there we were, in all our glory. The photographer posted everything. Now Vadim’s furious. Nina’s talking divorce. And, as you wanted, I suppose I’m divorcing your son, too.” Victor stared at her, events racing through his mind. That party, the website—he’d told them not to take pictures, but who knew it would end like this? He slumped to the floor beside her. “Why come here?” “I needed to escape for the evening,” Karina smiled, “The house is chaos. Alice is with the nanny. Want some wine?” She offered him his own bottle. They sat on the porch and drank. The only thing uniting them seemed to be the soft whirr of crickets in the night. “You know, this is all your fault,” Victor said. Karina nodded, eyes on her glass. “Yeah.” “You’re impossible.” “Guilty as charged.” “You don’t even feel sorry for Vadim.” “I do. But I feel sorrier for myself.” “You only love yourself.” “Not going to argue.” He suddenly turned her face to him, gently but firmly. “You know I never loved you,” he whispered. “Glad to hear it.” *** In the morning, when Nina came over to try and patch things up—willing to forgive her husband, even if it cost her half her sanity—she found Karina and Victor together, still asleep. “Who’s there?” Karina stirred. “It’s me,” Nina said, watching her world fall apart. Karina merely smiled calmly. Victor woke a little later, but did nothing to follow his wife.

Wife and Father Emily always pretended she wanted to meet Olivers parents, but honestly, what did she

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His Wife Packed Her Bags and Vanished Without a Trace: A Family Torn Apart by Deceit, Manipulation, and the Struggle for Independence

His wife had packed her bags and vanished without a trace. Stop acting like a martyr. Shell get over it;

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The Carer for the Wife — “What do you mean?” Lida thought she’d misheard him. “Where am I supposed to move? Why? For what reason?” — “Oh, do we really have to have this scene?” he grimaced. “What’s not clear? There’s no one left here for you to look after. Where you go isn’t my concern.” — “Ed, what? We were planning to get married, weren’t we?” — “That was all in your head. I never had any intentions like that.” At thirty-two, Lida decided to make a fresh start and leave her small hometown. What was there for her? Just her mother’s constant criticism – why, she’d never stop bringing up Lida’s divorce and blaming her for “losing” her husband. That ex, Vas, wasn’t worth a kind word anyway – a drunk and a womaniser! How had she managed to marry him eight years earlier? Truth be told, Lida felt relieved after the divorce—like she could finally breathe again. Still, the fights with her mother were endless—about the divorce, about never having enough money. At least she’d be better off moving to the city! Her old school friend, Sue, had married a widower years ago—so what if he was sixteen years older and no heartthrob? He had a flat and money. And Lida, she thought, was just as good as Sue! — “Thank goodness! You’ve come to your senses!” Sue cheered Lida’s plan. “Get packing—you can crash at ours for now. We’ll sort out a job.” — “Are you sure Mr. Peterson won’t mind?” Lida hesitated. — “Of course not! He does anything I ask. Don’t worry—we’ll manage!” But Lida didn’t outstay her welcome. After a couple of weeks—once she’d made her first pay—she rented a room. Then, remarkably, fortune smiled on her. — “Why on earth is a woman like you still working the market?” one of her regulars, Mr. Edward Barrington, asked sympathetically. By now, Lida knew all her regulars by name. — “It’s cold, it’s rough—but bills need paying,” she shrugged, then added playfully, “Or do you have a better offer?” Edward Barrington was not Prince Charming: at least twenty years her senior, getting pudgy and balding, with that sharp stare. He was fussy choosing his vegetables and always paid exactly to the penny. But he was tidily dressed and drove a nice car—not some bum or drunk. He did wear a wedding ring, though, so husband material he was not. — “You seem like a careful, reliable, tidy sort,” Edward slipped into ‘you’ easily enough, “Ever looked after an invalid before?” — “As a matter of fact, yes. I helped care for my neighbour when she had a stroke. Her kids lived too far, so they asked me.” — “Perfect!” he brightened, face shifting to sorrowful. “My wife, Tamara, has just had a stroke too. She’ll probably never recover… I brought her home, but there’s never time to care for her. Could you help? I’d pay you the going rate.” Lida didn’t have to think twice. Far better to be warm in someone’s flat—even if it meant emptying the commode—than freezing ten hours a day at the market. Even better, Edward offered her a room in their flat—no rent required! — “Three separate rooms—they’re huge! You could play football,” she enthused to Sue. “No kids in sight.” Tamara’s mother was a bit of a piece herself—sixty-eight and still acting young, a new husband distracting her. No one else to look after the patient. — “Is his wife truly that ill?” — “Oh yes… It’s bad. Poor woman’s like a log, can barely mumble. She’s unlikely to recover.” — “You’re not happy about that, are you?” Sue looked Lida hard in the eye. — “Course not!” Lida looked away. “But… Edward would be free after, wouldn’t he…” — “Lida, have you lost your mind? Hoping someone dies for a flat?!” — “I wish nobody anything—but I won’t miss my chance. Easy for you—your life is all roses!” They fell out, hard. Lida only told Sue about her affair with Edward six months later. Not that they could live without each other—but Edward would never leave his wife! That wasn’t the kind of man he was. So, for now, they’d just have their affair. — “So, you two are carrying on, and his dying wife is in the next room?” Sue didn’t approve. “Don’t you see how grim that is? Or do you just see his riches—if he has any at all?” — “I never get a kind word from you!” Lida snapped. They stopped talking, but Lida hardly felt guilty (well… maybe just a little). She cared for Tamara as devotedly as possible. Once the affair began, she also took over everything in the house—because a man needs looking after beyond the bedroom: feeds, clean shirts, ironed things, floors scrubbed, the works. As far as Lida could see, her “lover” was content. And honestly, so was she. She barely noticed that Edward had stopped paying her wages for caring for his wife. But what did money matter when they were “almost married” already? He gave her cash for groceries and she managed the budget, barely realising she was squeezing every penny. His salary, as a foreman, was nothing to sneeze at. But never mind—once they married, it’d be all sorted. Their passion faded, and Edward became less eager to come home, but Lida thought he was just tired from dealing with his sick wife. She couldn’t say how, though he barely visited Tamara daily. Still, she felt sorry for him. Of course, when Tamara finally passed away, Lida cried. She’d spent a year and a half caring for her—not time you could just write off. She handled the funeral arrangements too—Edward was “overwhelmed with grief.” He barely gave her enough for funeral costs, but she made it work, and nobody could fault her. Even the neighbours who frowned on her affair nodded approvingly at the funeral, as did his mother-in-law. The last thing Lida expected was what happened next. — “As you can see, I no longer need your assistance,” Edward said dryly, ten days after the funeral. “So, you’ve a week to move out.” — “What do you mean?” Lida thought she’d misheard him. “Where am I supposed to go? Why?!” — “Oh, spare me the drama,” he grimaced. “What’s not clear? There’s no one for you to care for now. Where you go is not my concern.” — “Ed, what are you doing? We were getting married, weren’t we?” — “You imagined all that. I had no such plans.” The next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk to Edward again, but he repeated himself and told her to get a move on. — “My fiancée wants to get the place done up before the wedding,” he let slip. — “Fiancée? Who is she?” — “Not your business.” — “Oh, not my business? Fine. I’ll leave—but first, you pay me for the work I’ve done. Yes! Don’t look at me like that. You promised forty thousand a month and only paid twice. That means you owe me six hundred and forty thousand!” — “Look at you—quick with the numbers!” he sneered. “Dream on.” — “You owe for the cleaning and cooking too! All right—I won’t nitpick. Pay me a million, and we’ll part like ships at sea.” — “And what if I don’t? Ready to go to court? You haven’t even got a contract.” — “I’ll tell Tamsin—your mother-in-law. After all, she gave you this flat. Believe me, if I talk, you’ll lose your job too. You know her better than I do.” Edward paled, but recovered fast. — “Nobody will believe you. Quit the threats. And you know what? I don’t want to see you—get out, now!” — “Three days, darling. No million, there’ll be a scandal,” Lida said, packed her bags, and headed to a hostel. She’d managed to stash a little of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, when he hadn’t returned her calls, she went back to Edward’s flat. Luckily, Tamsin, the mother-in-law, was there too. Lida could see by Edward’s face he had no intention of paying, so she told Tamsin everything. — “She’s talking nonsense! Delusional! Don’t listen to her!” Edward barked. — “I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them,” Tamsin fixed him with a stare. “Now I see. And you remember well, son-in-law, whose name the flat is in?” Edward froze. — “I want you out of here in a week. No—three days.” Tamsin turned to leave but paused. — “And you, young lady—what are you waiting for, a medal? Out!” Lida bolted from the flat, knowing there’d be no payout. Back to the market it was—there was always work there to be found… The Carer for the Wife

A Carer for the Wife What do you mean? Linda felt as though shed misheard. Where am I supposed to move?

La vida

024

We Didn’t Let Our Daughter in the House — Why didn’t you let her in? — Veronica finally asked the question that had haunted her most. — You always have before… Her mother gave a bitter smile. — Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. Do you think we don’t see how you shrink into the corner when your sister barges in at all hours of the night? The way you hide your textbooks so she doesn’t ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because you’re normal. You’ve got a future ahead of you, while she lost hers to the bottle a long time ago… Veronica hunched over her open textbook as yet another family row erupted in the next room. Her dad hadn’t even taken his coat off — he stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching his phone and shouting. — Don’t try your tricks on me! — he roared into the receiver. — Where’s it all gone? It’s been two weeks since I was paid! Two weeks, Larissa! Tanya peered out from the kitchen. She listened to her husband’s monologue for a minute, then asked: — Again? Valery just waved her off and put the call on speaker — the sound of sobbing filled the air. Veronica’s older sister had a natural talent for wringing out sympathy, even from a stone. But years of heartbreak had made her parents tough. — What do you mean, “he’s thrown you out”? — Valery paced the narrow corridor. — Good for him. Who’d put up with this drunken mess constantly? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re thirty, but look like a beaten dog. Veronica cracked her bedroom door open a few centimetres. — Dad, please… — suddenly the sobs stopped. — He’s chucked my things into the stairwell. I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s raining, it’s cold… Can I come back for a few days? Just to sleep it off. Mum lunged forward to grab the phone but Valery quickly turned away. — No! — he snapped. — You’re not coming near this house. We agreed last time, didn’t we? After you pawned the TV while we were away, the door’s closed to you! — Mum! Tell him! — came the scream through the phone. Tanya covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. — Larissa, how could you… — was all she could manage, not looking at her husband. — We took you to the doctor. You promised. They said that last treatment would last for three years. You couldn’t even go a month! — Those treatments are a joke! — Larissa snapped back, her tone shifting from pleading to aggressive. — They just want your money! I feel awful! I’m burning up inside, I can’t breathe! And you’re still on about the TV… Like he’s more bothered about it than me! I’ll buy you a new one! — With what money? — Valery stopped and stared at a spot on the wall. — With what, when you’ve wasted it all? Borrowed off your boozy mates again? Or nicked something from your latest boyfriend? — Doesn’t matter! — Larissa shouted. — Dad, I’ve got nowhere to go! Do you want me to sleep under a bridge? — Try a homeless shelter. Go wherever you want — father’s voice was now frighteningly calm. — You’re not coming here. I’ll change the locks if I see you at the door. Veronica sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Usually in moments like these, when her sister made their parents furious, the anger would rebound and hit Veronica instead. — And what are you sitting there for? On your phone again? Gonna end up just like your sister — useless! — the sort of thing she’d heard for three years. But today, they’d forgotten her. Nobody yelled, nobody blamed her. Dad hung up, changed and he and mum went to the kitchen. Veronica crept into the corridor. — Val, we can’t do this, — her mum sobbed. — She’ll get lost completely. You know how she is when she’s in that state. She can’t control herself. — And I should have to? — her father slammed down the kettle. — I’m fifty-five, Tanya. I just want to come home and sink into my chair. I don’t want to sleep with my wallet under my pillow! Or have the neighbours telling me they saw her with shady blokes and mouthing off! — She’s our daughter, — her mother said quietly. — She was our daughter till she was twenty. Now she’s just something tearing our lives apart. She’s an alcoholic, Tanya. You can’t fix that if she doesn’t want it. And she doesn’t. She likes that life. Wake up, find a drink, pass out! The phone rang again. They went still for a second, and then Dad answered. — Hello. — Dad… — it was Larissa again. — I’m sitting at the train station. The police keep coming through, they’ll take me in if I stay here. Please… — Listen to me, — Dad cut her off. — You’re not coming home. That’s final. — So you want me to top myself then? — there was a challenge in Larissa’s voice. — Want the morgue to ring you? Veronica froze. That was always Larissa’s ace — when nothing else worked. It used to do the trick. Mum would start crying, Dad would clutch his chest, and her sister would get cash, a warm bed, food, a bath. But today, Dad didn’t fall for it. — Don’t threaten us, — he said. — You love yourself too much for that. Here’s what’s going to happen. — What? — a flicker of hope in Larissa’s voice. — I’ll find you a room to rent. Cheapest I can, out near the ring road. I’ll pay for the first month and get you some groceries. That’s it. After that — you’re on your own. Find a job, sort yourself out — you’ll get by. If not — after a month, you’re back on the street and I won’t lose sleep. — A room? Not a flat? Dad, I can’t live alone. I’m scared. And what if I get dodgy neighbours? And how am I supposed to make do with nothing? I don’t even have bedding — that bastard kept it! — Mum’ll pack some up in a holdall. We’ll leave it with the concierge — you can pick it up. Don’t try coming back here. — You’re monsters! — Larissa screeched. — Putting your own daughter in a hovel! While you sit comfy in a three-bed and I have to creep about like a rat! Mum couldn’t take it. She snatched the phone. — Shut up, Larissa! — she shouted so fiercely that Veronica jumped. — Listen to your father! This is your last chance. Room or the street. Choose now — tomorrow it’ll be too late even for the room! The line went quiet. — Fine, — Larissa muttered at last. — Text me the address. And send some money… I’m hungry. — No money, — Valery replied flatly. — I’ll put food in the bag. I know what you really spend cash on. He hung up. Veronica decided it was time to face the music. She tiptoed into the kitchen for a “drink of water.” She braced herself for the usual blow-up. Dad would look at her T-shirt and call her a slob. Mum would have a go — with everything going on, how could she just mooch about like nothing mattered? But they didn’t look her way. — Veronica, — her mum called softly. — Yes, Mum? — There are some old sheets and pillowcases on the top shelf in the cupboard. Get them down and pack them in the blue sports bag in the utility room. — Okay, Mum. Veronica set off to do as she was told. She found the bag, tipped out the junk. She couldn’t get her head around it: how would Larissa cope on her own? She couldn’t even boil pasta, and her drinking… Veronica knew her sister wouldn’t last two days without a bottle. Veronica clambered onto a stool, rummaging for linen. — Don’t forget towels! — Dad called from the kitchen. — Already packed them, — Veronica answered. She saw her dad stalk out to the hall, pull on his boots and leave with barely a word. Off to find that “hovel”, she guessed. Veronica wandered back to the kitchen. Her mum was sitting just as before. — Mum, do you want a tablet? — Veronica asked gently. Her mum looked up. — You know, Nick… — she began in a strange, colourless voice. — When she was a little girl, I thought she’d grow up and be my helper. We’d talk about everything. Now I just pray she remembers the address for that room. Just pray she gets there… — She’ll manage, — Veronica perched on the edge of a chair. — She always manages. — Not this time, — her mum shook her head. — There’s nothing in her eyes now. Just emptiness. Like only her shell is left, always needing another fix. I see how scared you are of her… Veronica fell silent. She’d always thought her parents never noticed her fear — that they were too busy saving “lost cause” Larissa. — I thought you didn’t care about me, — she whispered. Her mum stroked her hair. — Of course we care. But we’re out of strength. You know what they say on a plane? Put your own mask on first, then help your child. We tried to put the mask on her for ten years. Ten years, Nick! We tried everything. Hypnosis, healers, pricey clinics. In the end… we nearly suffocated ourselves. There was a ring at the door. Veronica jumped. — Is it her? — she asked, frightened. — No, your father’s got keys. It’s probably the supermarket delivery. Veronica got the door. The delivery man handed her two heavy bags. She carted them to the kitchen and began unpacking. Groceries, tinned food, tea, sugar. Nothing extra. — She won’t eat this, — Veronica said, laying aside a bag of rice. — She likes ready meals. — If she wants to live, she’ll cook, — her mum snapped. That old steel was back in her voice. — No more spoiling her. We’ll kill her with our sympathy. An hour later her dad dragged himself back in, looking spent. — Found it, — he said briefly. — Got the keys. Landlady’s a strict old lady — retired teacher. Said if there’s any booze or trouble, she’ll turf her out no questions asked. I told her: “Go ahead, do it early.” — Oh, Valery… — her mother sighed. — What? Tired of lying. People deserve the truth. He grabbed the packed bag, seized the grocery bags, and headed out. — I’ll leave it all with the concierge. I’ll call her, tell her where to pick it up. Veronica, deadbolt the door after me. If she calls on the house phone — don’t answer. Dad left, and Mum hid in the kitchen and broke down. Veronica’s heart was aching. How could it come to this? She didn’t even live, just drifted from one drink to the next, ruining her own life and her parents’… *** Her parents’ hopes were dashed. A week later the landlady called Valery — the lodger had been turfed out along with the police. Larissa had brought three men back and partied all night. And once again, her parents couldn’t turn their back — Larissa was taken to rehab. A closed clinic this time — a proper one, locked and guarded — they promised to cure her in a year. Who knows? Maybe this time there really will be a miracle…

Not Allowed to Come Home So why didnt you let her in? Victoria finally dared to ask the question that