My parents didnt last long under the same roof. When I was four, my dad left home one day and never came back. Some tragic accident, you know how it goes. He did, however, leave me a handful of old family photos and a rather sizeable sum in a savings account under my name, which quietly accumulated interest as the years went by.
A few years later, Mum remarried and my baby brother arrived. And thats pretty much when I seamlessly transitioned into the roles of stepdad-and-mums housemaid and my brothers freelance nanny.
Watching Mum dote on my little brother could bring a tear to your eyeif youre the sentimental type, that is. She absolutely adored him: kisses goodnight, endless cuddles, fairytales at bedtime, shiny new toys and trendy jumpersyou know, the works.
Stepdad doted on his only son, too. Me? Not so much. No one really cared for me and, as luck would have it, things actually went downhill from there. Mum and stepdad started arguing and he took up heavy drinking. The rows became a regular performance, followed inevitably by me taking most of the flakwell, someone had to, since I was the un-loved one. Eventually, they divorced, naturally.
Some years after, I made my escape to another city for university, leaving my brother and mother behind in the flat Dad had left us. Home visits became a raritynot only was I studying full-time, but I also juggled a part-time job to cover expenses.
When I finally returned after ages away, I found a gang of strangers lounging around the living room. Mum had taken up residence on the sofa in the kitchen, and these mysterious flatmates were apparently my brothers mates. I thought this warranted a bit of a heart-to-heart, but things managed to spiral further.
The next morning, they woke me up at some ungodly hour and effectively frogmarched me down to the bank, demanding I withdraw every last penny from my inheritanceturns out my brother had spectacularly lost a fortune in a card game.
It felt a bit like being a little girl again, always just the one they bossed around.
The ironic bit? Id actually come home to share some happy newsI was pregnant, and foolishly imagined we might rekindle some family spirit. Well, the only rekindling was lighting a fire under me to kick them out. I told them to pack up and head off to Grans in the countryside. The flat was legally mine and I wasnt about to host an impromptu youth hostel.
Mum and my brother just burst out laughing, clearly convinced I was bluffing. That only cemented my decision. I rang the police, who very helpfully chivvied my so-called relatives into packing their bags and leaving. My fiancé and I swapped out the locks, and now were making plans to sell the flat and buy a place of our own somewhere new. I also switched all my bank account details, lest my mother get any bright ideas.
Honestly, I reckon Dad would have been proud of me for standing up for myself and finally putting my own happiness first.
