Mother married eleven years ago. My stepfather, Philip, had a daughter, Lily, from his first marriagea girl of fourteen at the time. When Philip left his old family, he relinquished all rights to the house, handing it entirely over to them, and moved in with Mother and me to the flat that had been left to us by my late father. After that, Philip had nothing to do with his daughter; Lily herself wanted no part of him either. He paid child support dutifully but that was the extent of his involvement in Lilys life.
I cannot claim that Philip and I forged any special bond or that I began to think of him as my own father. He didnt shout at me, he never raised a hand, nor did he try to force discipline. Truth be told, by the time he entered my life I was already a stubborn sixteen-year-old, far too old to mould. I lived with them for three more years until my marriage and the birth of my own child, which required me to move out. Mother and Philip refused to let my husband move in with usMother said it simply wouldnt be right to have a stranger under the same roof.
Mothers relationship with my husband was rocky from the start, while Philip expressed no interest one way or another, keeping well out of it. Mother did help with her grandson at first, willingly looking after him when I needed her. That was, until recently. I rang her one afternoon, asking whether she could collect my son from nursery. Instead, she told me she couldntshe was already watching Philips granddaughter.
At once I recalled Philips long-estranged daughter and realised she must have had a child of her own. I felt the sting of rejection, yet it was not the first time. My suspicions aroused, I decided to visit the flat unannounced one day.
No one was home. There, scattered around the sitting room, were baby clothes and a cot. My old bedspread was rumpled and the room plainly lived-in. I rang Mother, determined to find out what was going on.
Lily lives here now, she explained, with forced patience. Philip and I both agreedits a difficult time for her, shes on her own, and she needed help. Andis it really proper not to call before you visit?
That was it: I was now a visitor. In my own childhood flat, no less. Imagine! Not only had Philip, my mothers husband, settled in the flat that was rightfully mine while my own family lived in rented lodgingsbut now, with the mortgage on us, Philip had installed his daughter and granddaughter as if it were his own property. I was paying the bank, while Philip and Lily lounged about, as if needing nothing and wanting for less.
Fury burned inside me. Matters worsened when Mother, upon their return, ushered Lily into my old room, telling her to stay put while I was dragged into a stern discussion about my unacceptable attitude. The shock was almost too much to bear.
As long as Lily needs a home, she will stay here, Mother declared coldly. Thats the end of it.
I questioned the house Philip had once given up for his old familycouldnt Lily go back there?
Thats none of your concern, Mother dismissed me.
But it was my concern, when a young woman and child now lived in what used to be my own room!
Our row was fierce and bitter. I told Mother plainly that if Lily did not move out, I would claim our half-share and move back in with my husband. Then Mother dealt the final blow: she said she would sign over her share of the flat to Philip, and I would be wise to calm down and not let emotions cloud my judgement. On my way home, I called Philip. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that who lived where and with whom was none of my businesshe would have anyone he wished in his own home.
My husband urged me to let it rest; after all, we had a home, soon our son would be at school, and we could move on. Still, it wounded memy mother let a stranger into the flat without so much as asking me, whilst I toiled to pay the mortgage. Eventually, Mother phoned, asking to see her grandson. I refused, telling her perhaps she could visit her new granddaughter instead, the one she looked after now. She called me a fool and said shed wait for an apology from me.
An apology! For what? For her acting sole master over our shared property? For her stepdaughter and granddaughter inhabiting my old rooms? I began to think I should simply divide the place. Then, a call from Lily herselfshe said she would leave, if her presence bothered me, as she didnt want to spark family quarrels.
But I doubt her sincerity. Shes hardly as simple as she lets on. Perhaps this has been the plan all alongMother signing her share over to Philip, Lily conveniently in need of shelter Are they plotting to drive Mother from her own home? How do I keep her safe? Seek legal advice? Divide the property for good? Or move back in myself and push Lily out, reclaiming whats rightfully mine? Im at a loss. All I know is, I detest the whole affair and trust Philip and Lily not at all.
