Let My Good Deed Come Back to Haunt Me — Dad, what’s with the new decorations? Did you clean out the local antique shop? — Christina raised her eyebrows in confusion, eyeing the white crochet doily on her dresser. — I had no idea you fancied ancient knick-knacks. Your taste is straight out of Grandma’s era… — Oh, Christina dear! Didn’t expect you to pop in unannounced, — said Mr. Peterson, emerging from the kitchen. — I mean, we—I wasn’t expecting you… Her father tried to look cheerful, but guilt flickered in his eyes. — Well, it’s obvious you weren’t, — Christina said sourly, heading to the living room, bracing for more surprises. — Dad… Where did all this come from? What’s going on here? Christina barely recognised her own flat… When she inherited the place from her grandmother, it was a depressing sight: battered furniture, a chunky old television balancing on a peeling cabinet, rusty radiators, and wallpaper hanging on for dear life. But, it was hers. She’d saved up just enough for renovations. Christina picked Scandinavian style—light colours, minimalism—making her two-bed feel more spacious. She added her own touches, carefully chose curtains, laid down fluffy rugs with love… Now, her thick blackout curtains had been swapped for ordinary nylon netting. Her Italian sofa was buried under a synthetic leopard blanket with a grinning tiger. A pink plastic vase and equally toxic fake roses sat on her coffee table. But the worst part was the smell. From the kitchen came the stench of frying oil and fish. Cigarette smoke wafted through the air. And her dad didn’t even smoke… — Christina, you see… — Oleg finally replied. — It’s a bit complicated. I’m not alone. I meant to tell you but it never seemed the right moment. — Not alone? — Christina was lost for words. — Dad, this isn’t what we agreed! — Come on, you know my life didn’t end with your mother. I’m still young—haven’t even got my pension yet. Don’t I deserve a personal life? Christina froze. Of course, her dad deserved to date. But in HER flat? Her parents had split a year ago. Mum took it in stride, almost relieved, throwing herself into self-development and friendship. Christina’s dad, meanwhile, fell to pieces. He returned to his pre-marital flat—a disaster after being rented out for ten years. The last tenant fell asleep with a cigarette. No money for repairs, so he abandoned it. He didn’t sell it, just let it rot. It was unliveable: walls black with soot, smashed windows, mould on the sills… A horror movie set. — Christina, I’ve no idea how I’ll survive, — he sighed back then. — It’s dangerous to stay here, and I’ll never get it sorted by winter. No money, either. If I freeze, so be it… I suppose that’s my fate. Christina couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t let the man who raised her live like that. Especially when her own flat was empty—she’d recently married and moved in with her husband. Given her dad’s history with tenants, she wasn’t planning to rent it out. — Dad, stay at mine for now, — she offered. — Everything’s set up, all the comforts. Do up your place gradually, then move back. Just one condition: no guests. — Really? — he asked, amazed. — Thank you, sweetheart! You’ve saved me. Promise I’ll keep things quiet and peaceful. Peaceful? Hardly. As Christina recalled their conversation, the bathroom door burst open, steam spilling out. A woman of fifty glided out, wrapped in Christina’s favourite fluffy dressing gown, barely covering her voluptuous figure. — Oh, Oleg, do we have company? — the woman boomed in a smoky voice, flashing a condescending smile. — You might’ve warned me. I’m in my loungewear. — And you are? — Christina narrowed her eyes. — And why are you wearing my dressing gown? — I’m Jean, your dad’s beloved. And what’s got your knickers in a twist? The gown was just hanging there unused. Christina saw red. — Take it off. Now, — she snapped. — Christina! — her dad pleaded, stepping between them. — No need for drama. Jean just— — Jean’s wearing someone else’s clothes in someone else’s home! — Christina cut him off. — Dad, what’s wrong with you? You brought your girlfriend here and let her rummage through my things without permission?! Jean rolled her eyes dramatically, stomping off and plopping herself onto the tiger blanket. — What a rude little madam you are, — she announced. — If I were in Oleg’s shoes, I’d take a belt to you, no matter your age. Is THAT how you speak to your father? Who he lives with isn’t your concern, missy. Christina was gobsmacked. Some strange woman, lounging on her sofa, scolding her like a wayward child. — Not my concern, — Christina agreed, — until it happens in my home. — Your home? — Jean arched an eyebrow at Oleg. He cowered by the wall, shifting his terrified gaze from furious daughter to brazen girlfriend, clearly hoping this storm might blow over. But the forecast was grim. — Well, did Daddy not mention that bit? — Christina said icily. — Fine, I’ll spell it out. He’s a guest here. This flat is mine—every single thing in it bought by me. I let him stay, but I never signed up for him bringing his girlfriends around. Jean flushed scarlet. — Oleg?… — her voice now ice. — What is she talking about? You said this was your place. You lied to me? Her dad shrank against the wallpaper, ears burning with shame. — Well… Jean, you misunderstood. I do have my own place, just not this one. I didn’t want to bore you with details. — Didn’t want to bore me? Thanks a lot! Now I’ve got her giving me grief! Christina’s patience snapped. — Out, — she said quietly. — What? — Jean stalled. — Out. Both of you. I’m giving you an hour. If you’re still here after that, we’ll settle things properly. This is what happens when you let someone into your ‘Little Palace’… She headed for the door, but Oleg broke away from the wall and rushed after her. — You wouldn’t chuck your own father out, would you? You KNOW what my flat’s like! I’ll freeze! He grabbed her sleeve, her heart twinged with guilt—memories, duty, pity. Tears threatened. But Christina looked at Jean. Sitting there, legs crossed, wearing Christina’s dressing gown, glaring at her with pure venom. If she gave in now, tomorrow this woman would change the locks and redecorate. — Dad, you’re an adult. Find a rental, — Christina said, pulling free. — You’re to blame. We agreed you’d live alone. But you brought a random woman, let her wear my things, and trashed my home… — Oh, choke on your precious flat! — Jean snapped. — Come on, Oleg, don’t demean yourself. Raised a thankless brat… Half an hour later, it was done. Her father left without a word, hunched like an old man. Christina would never forget that look—a beaten dog in the rain. She stood her ground till the end. As soon as they left, she flung open the windows to banish the smell of fish, cigarettes, and cheap perfume. The dressing gown, blanket, everything Jean had touched—straight to the bin. Next day: cleaners and a locksmith. She couldn’t bear a trace of that woman. …Four days passed. Christina’s flat was hers again: no fake flowers, no foul odours. She lived with her husband now, but just knowing the place was peaceful made her happy. She didn’t speak to her dad—until, on the fourth day, he called. — Hello? — Christina answered after a pause. — Well, Christina… — her father slurred, drunk. — Are you happy now? Jean’s gone. She left me. — Wow, how surprising, — Christina replied. — Let me guess. She saw your real flat, realised it was a dump, and fled? He sniffled. — Yeah… I put a heater in and slept on an air mattress. She lasted three days… She put up with it, then called me a pauper and a liar and moved in with her sister. Said she’d only wasted her time. But we loved each other, Christina! — Love? Please. You were both looking for an easy ride, that’s all. You both miscalculated. Silence. But he wasn’t done. — It’s miserable here alone, sweetheart, — he said. — It’s scary… Can I come back? I promise, just me this time! I swear! Christina’s eyes fell. Her dad sat somewhere in that mess and cold, but he’d made it through his own choices: cheating on her mother, lying to Christina, spinning tall stories for Jean. She pitied him. But pity could poison them both. — No, Dad. I won’t let you back, — said Christina. — Hire workers, get the place sorted. Learn to live in the mess you made for yourself. The best I’ll do is recommend a good team. That’s all. If you need advice, ask. She hung up. Harsh? Maybe. But Christina was done letting anyone leave a stain on her dressing gown—or on her soul. Some dirt you can’t wash out. You just keep it out of your life…

Brought Trouble on Myself

Dad, whats with all the knickknacks? Did you rob an antiques shop? Christine raised her eyebrows, eyeing the white crochet doily her father had placed on her dresser. I never knew you had a taste for relics. To be honest, your style is just like Grans

Oh, Christine? Didnt expect you without a ring first, said Roger Smith as he walked out of the kitchen, trying not to look guilty.

No, I can see you werent expecting me. Christine pursed her lips and stepped into the living roomand saw more surprises. Dad Where did all this come from? Whats happening here?

She could hardly recognise her own flat.

When Gran left her the place, it looked dreadfully sadfaded wallpaper peeling off in places, a chunky old telly on a battered stand, rusty radiators and tired armchairs But it was hers. Christine had saved up enough by then to do it up properly. She chose clean, minimalist lines with a Scandinavian feelsoft whites and pale woods that made the two bedrooms light and spacious. With loving attention, she found curtains in just the right shade, laid out fluffy rugs, dotted tasteful accents around the space

Now, instead of her thick, light-blocking curtains, there was a cheap nylon net hanging at the window. The Italian sofa lay buried under a garish polyester throw covered in snarling tigers. On the coffee table sat a lurid pink plastic vase, stuffed with equally shocking artificial roses.

Worse yet, unfamiliar odours permeated the rooms. Oil spit and sizzled from the kitchen, mingling with the reek of fish and tobaccoa smell her father never carried.

Christine, you see Roger finally spoke, hesitantly. Its a bit awkward. Im not alone. Meant to tell you before, but it just never seemed the moment.

Not alone? Christine faltered. Dad, this was not the deal!

Come on, Christine, surely you understand my life didnt end with your mother. Im hardly an old man yet; Im not even close to the state pension. Dont I deserve a private life too?

Christine was briefly frozen with surprise. Of course, he had the right to datebut not in her own home!

Her parents had split a year earlier. Her mother took Rogers affair in stride, embracing self-improvement with her usual gusto. She had dozens of friends and no time for gloom. Roger, however, was gutted. He moved back to his old bachelor flatone hed been renting out for years. But when a tenant fell asleep with a lit cigarette, it was a disaster. He had neither the money nor the energy for repairs, and the place became a forgotten ruin. He kept it on, just in case, but living there was impossible: soot-stained walls, shattered windows, mould everywhere. It resembled a horror set more than a home.

Oh Christine, love, I cant live here Dangerous, and theres no way Ill finish the repairs before winter. Theres simply not the moneyIll freeze. Maybe its fate.

She couldnt see him suffer. The thought of him there, alone Especially when her flat now stood emptyshed recently married and moved in with her husband. Christine had no intention of renting out after seeing her fathers troubles.

Dad, why dont you move into mine for now? she offered. Everythings all set; youll be comfortable. Sort your flat out bit by bit, then move back in. Just one condition: no visitors.

Really? Oh, Christine, thank you! Youre a life-saver, truly. I promiseIll be quiet and keep everything in order.

Well, so much for quiet.

As she recalled the conversation, the bathroom door flew open trailing scented steam, and a woman in her fifties sauntered out. She was wearing Christines own favourite bathrobe, barely containing her ample figure.

Oh, Roger, I didnt know we had company, she said in a smoky voice, offering Christine a condescending smile. You might have warned meIm in my loungewear.

And you are? Christine narrowed her eyes. And why are you wearing my robe?

Im Janet, your fathers beloved. Why so uptight? I just borrowed the robeit was hanging around unused.

Christines temples throbbed with anger.

Take it off. Now. Her words came cold and firm.

Christine! her father begged, stepping between them. Now, come onno need for theatrics! Janet didnt mean

Janet just wandered into someone elses house and put on someone elses things! Christine snapped. Dad, have you lost your senses? You brought your girlfriend here and let her paw through my belongings?

Janet rolled her eyes, flounced to the lounge, and plopped herself heavily onto the tiger-streaked throw.

Youre a right piece of work, she declared. If I were Roger, Id tan your backside, never mind your age. Imagine talking to your father like that! The fact he wants to live with another woman isnt your concern, darling.

Christine was speechless. Some random woman was lecturing her in her own flat, sprawled on her own sofa?

Its not my concern, nountil it happens in my home.

My home? Janet raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Roger.

He stood frozen by the wall, shifting his gaze anxiously between his furious daughter and his brazen lover, silently hoping the storm would pass. But the weather was turning against him.

Ah, did my dear dad forget to mention? said Christine, her smile icy. Let me clarify: hes nothing here but a guest. This flat is minedown to the last saucepan. I let him stay, but I did not expect him entertaining his beloveds.

Janets cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.

Roger? Whats she on about? You told me this was yours. Were you lying?

Roger tried hard to melt into the wallpaper, his ears crimson.

Well Janet, I didnt meanI have a place, just not this one. Didnt want to burden you with the details.

Didnt want to burden me? Grand! Now because of you Ive got cheek from your child!

Christine could take no more.

Out. She said it quietly.

What? Janet blinked.

Out. The both of you. Youve got an hour. After that, Ill get proper authorities involved. Let them in, I thoughtfoolish me

Christine headed for the door, but Roger finally peeled himself from the wall and grabbed her sleeve.

Love! You wouldnt toss your own father out? You know what the old place is likeIll rot there!

His grip tugged at her heart, stirring memories and the familiar pang of duty. For an instant, she faltered.

Then she glanced at Janet.

Janet sat bold as brass, leg kicked over the other, in Christines robe, glaring pure loathing. Christine knew if she relented now, that woman would soon change the locks and redecorate.

Dad, youre a grown man. Rent somewhere, Christine said, freeing her arm. You broke our deal. You brought a strange woman, let her use my things, and turned my home into a tip

Oh, keep your precious home! Janet cut in. Come on, Rogerdont abase yourself for her. You raised an ungrateful child

Half an hour of packing, and the verdict was settled. Her father left in silence, hunched like an old man. Christine would never forget the look in his eyesthe wounded stare of a beaten dog sent into a storm. Still, she stood firm, unmoving.

When theyd gone, the first thing she did was fling the windows wide, letting out the stench of fish, cigarettes, and cheap perfume. The robe, the throw, and everything Janet had touched went straight to the dustbin. The next day, she called for cleaning and a locksmith. She felt sick just handling what that woman had used.

Four days passed.

Her flat was peaceful again. No tacky flowers, no lingering aromas. She lived at her husbands now, but just knowing her old place was restored set her mind at ease.

She hadnt spoken to her father since. On the fourth day, the phone rang; it was Roger.

Hello Christine answered after a pause.

So, Christine His voice was thick with drink. You happy now? Janets gone. Left me, just packed up and went

Well, who could have guessed? she retorted. Let me guessshe saw your real flat, realised how much work it was, and bolted?

Roger sniffed.

Yes I got a heater, slept on an airbed. She lasted three nights, then called me a pauper and a liar, packed up, and went off to her sisters. She said Id wasted her time But we loved each other, Christine!

Love? You were both just after a cushy arrangementand neither of you got it.

He paused, but she could tell he wasnt finished.

I dont like being alone, Christine, he finally said. Its bleak here Can I come back? I swear, just me. Honest!

Christine lowered her gaze. Her father was somewhere out there, in the wreck he himself had createdfirst cheating her mother, then deceiving her, then spinning tales for Janet.

She did pity him. But sometimes compassion can be toxic.

No, Dad. I wont let you back, Christine replied. Get some builders in, fix the place. Learn to live with what you made. I can recommend some good people if you need. Thats all I can do.

Then she hung up.

Harsh? Maybe. But Christine would not allow anyone to stain her robe or her soul again. Some messes you simply have to keep outbecause some stains never come out at all.