A POSTAGE STAMP Williams left Emily, Mum sighed heavily down the line. What do you mean? I asked, confused.
The Bitterness at the Bottom of My Heart
“You belong in care already—get out of our family!” I screamed in a cracking voice.
The target of my fury was my cousin, James.
Oh, how I loved him as a child! Wheat-blonde hair, cornflower-blue eyes, a cheerful nature—that was James.
…Relatives often gathered around the dinner table for special occasions. Out of all my cousins, I singled out James. He could charm with his words, weaving stories like lace. He was also a gifted artist; some evenings, he’d sketch five or six pictures in one sitting. I’d be transfixed—enraptured by their beauty. Quietly, I’d collect his drawings and hide them in my desk, treasuring my cousin’s creativity.
James was two years older than me.
When he was fourteen, tragedy struck—his mum died in her sleep, unexpectedly.
Then came the question: what to do with James? The search turned first to his biological father. That wasn’t simple; his parents had long since divorced. His father had another family and “didn’t want to disrupt their peaceful life.”
After that, all the relatives shrugged: “We’ve got our own problems, our own families…” Turns out, relatives are easy to find in daylight, but disappear after sunset.
So, with two kids of their own, my parents took James in. After all, his late mum was my dad’s younger sister.
At first, I was glad James would be living with us. But…
On his very first day in our home, my favourite James’s behaviour unsettled me. Mum tried to comfort the orphan:
“Do you want anything? Don’t be shy—just ask.”
Immediately, James replied,
“A train set.”
Mind you, that was an expensive toy at the time. I was taken aback—your mum’s just died, and you’re thinking about a train set? How could you?
But my parents bought him his dream toy, and that was just the beginning…
“Buy me a tape recorder, jeans, a branded jacket…” This was the 1980s: not only were these things costly, they were hard to get. My parents, sacrificing for us, their own children, made sure the orphan’s wishes came true. My brother and I understood and didn’t complain.
…When James turned sixteen, girls came along. My cousin turned out to be a hopeless romantic. Worse, he started pursuing me—his own cousin. But I played sport, and I could dodge his lecherous advances. We even fought over it. I would cry buckets.
My parents never knew. Kids rarely share such things.
After I pushed back hard, James swiftly turned to my friends, who—much to my annoyance—competed for his attention.
…James also stole. Boldly, shamelessly. I remember saving my lunch money in a piggy bank for gifts for my parents. One day, it was empty! James denied everything—swore blind he didn’t take it. Didn’t blush, didn’t even seem embarrassed. My soul was in torment. How could he steal from us, from our own home? James was tearing apart our family. I sulked, upset; he genuinely couldn’t understand why I was so troubled—he thought we owed him everything. I grew to hate him. Finally, I screamed:
“Get out of our family!”
I remember lashing out at James with words, saying things you couldn’t fit in a hat…
Mum barely calmed me down. From then on, James no longer existed for me. I ignored him completely.
Later, I learned that our other relatives knew what sort of “specimen” James was too. They lived nearby and had seen it all. Our family lived in another part of town.
James’s former teachers warned my parents: “You’ve taken on a burden—James will ruin your own children.”
…At his new school, he met Kate. She fell for James for life, marrying him right after school. They had a daughter. Kate endured his antics, lies, countless affairs. Like they say: single, she suffered, married, it doubled.
James took full advantage of Kate’s devotion.
…He was conscripted into the Army—served in Yorkshire. There, James started a “second” family. Don’t ask me how—it must have been during leave. After demob, James stayed in Yorkshire; he had a son there.
Kate, never one for dithering, went to Yorkshire and managed, by hook or by crook, to bring her husband back home.
My parents never heard a word of thanks from their nephew—not that they took him in for that anyway.
…Now, James Edward is 60 years old. He’s a member of the Church of England. He and Kate have five grandchildren.
By all accounts, all seems well, but the bitterness in my heart from my relationship with James lingers, even now…
And not even honey can sweeten it. BITTERNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SOUL You belong in a boarding school, you menace! Get out of our family!
Victor Harper was only three when his mother was taken from him. She fell, screaming, as a roaring motorbike
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Our grandchildren are lovely, but we just don’t have the energy to look after them anymore.
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