31 October 2025
Ive been wrestling with the way my life has unfolded, and writing it down feels like the only way to keep it together.
When Mom first mentioned that shed put Uncle Ian on the tenancy register, I was stunned. Id never imagined shed ever think of doing something like that. Whats the point? she murmured, glancing over at Ian, Hes practically a lodger now. I tried to argue that he was fortysomething and should have his own flat, but the words fell flat.
Dad died when I was thirteen; Mum was left to raise me and my little sister, Poppy, who was just three then. Our only paternal grandmother had passed away two years earlier, and we had no other relatives to lean on. I didnt mourn Dad too muchhe was always away on night shifts, a ghost in the houseyet his wages had kept the lights on. Now Mum, a shop assistant in Manchesters Northern Quarter, was the sole breadwinner, and the strain showed in every tired smile she forced.
I did what I could: odd jobs, chores, watching Poppy after school. When Mum brought home a bloke named Neil a year after Dads death, I didnt protest. He wasnt exactly what the house needed, but his presence seemed to lift Moms spirits; she smiled more, looked younger. That peace lasted only a few months before Neil vanished, claiming he was married and on a business trip. The neighbour, Mrs. Clarke, sighed when she heard, Youve got two kids, dearfocus on them, not on strangers.
Then came David, a gruff fellow who called Mum his little swallow and us his chicks. He lasted half a year. After him, quiet Mark moved inpolite, unobtrusive, stayed three months. I never understood why Mums luck with men was so rotten. Shes beautiful, diligent, caring Yet after Mark left, Mom declared to Mrs. Clarke, I dont need anyone. Ive got good children; Ill raise them myself. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was sixteen then, dreaming of university in Leeds, but I couldnt leave without Mums blessing, nor could I abandon Poppy to a house full of strangers.
When I finally mustered the courage to tell Mum about my plans near the end of Year 11, she threw her arms around me. Of course youre going! Well manage here. I cant promise much money, though, she said, eyes glistening. Ill sort myself out, I replied, feeling a surge of independence. She didnt know that she was giving me more than a simple permission; she was releasing a weight she didnt even realize shed been carrying.
University life was a blur of lectures, latenight shifts, and cramped dorm rooms. It wasnt easy, but I was ready for the grind. The hardest part, however, was missing Mum and, above all, Poppy. Our bond was fierceshe adored me, called me my hero, and clung to every word. When I left, she burst into tears, then stubbornly declared shed wait for me.
A few months after Id gone, Poppys voice over the phone grew soft and mournful. One day she broke down completely. Listen, my little sparrow, I said firmly, dry your tears and tell me the truth. Lying never helped anyone. She confessed something that sent chills down my spine. As soon as Id stepped off the train, Mum had brought home Uncle Ianan outspoken electrician from a small firm, balding, with a ruddy complexion. He strutted around the flat like a king, treating Mum like a doormat and ignoring Poppy entirely.
Poppy, now eight and walking to school two streets away on her own, was no longer escorted to swimming lessons or drama rehearsals. If you want to go, you go yourself, Mum said, learn to be independent. Ian declared that Poppy should cook, wash, and iron for herself. Mum, for the moment, seemed to concedethough not for long. Poppy wasnt allowed out of her room without Ians permission, and she was told to stay out of his sight.
I exploded on the phone. Has Mum lost her mind? Ill talk to her, dont cry, my little sparrow, Ill sort this out. But talking didnt fix it. When I confronted Mum, she snapped, Dont you think I deserve happiness? Ian is a good man! Poppy is just spoiled and needs discipline. Poppy, whom Mum once called Poppypie in frustration, was now being called by her full name, Poppy.
I asked gently, Mum, are you feeling alright? Does anything hurt? She replied, I feel wonderful, then softened, Poppys just exaggerating a bit she misses you, thats why shes being dramatic. I wanted to believe her, but I also knew I couldnt ignore the growing tension. I pushed myself harder at my studies, aiming to finish exams early and land a job.
Money was scarce. I didnt drink, smoke, or waste nights in clubs, yet the bills piled up. I managed to pass all my modules, but a decent job slipped away. Poppy called one night, trembling, Im scared of him. He and Mum argue all the time, and he roams around the flat naked sometimes. I could only imagine the horror.
The next bus home confirmed her fears. Ian stalked the flat, looked down on me, and shouted at Mum, Your sons here, and you havent set a table for the men! Mum smiled coyly at him, Hold on, Ian, well sort it. I refused to drink with this owner. I retreated to Poppys room, where she was sobbing with relief. I heard Ian mutter to Mum, Hes a badly raised lad, no respect for elders, while she whispered something frantic back.
Within days I realized Poppys claims were true. Ian ran the household with an iron fist, ordering both Mum and me around. When I tried to stand my ground, he snarled, Dont tell me what to do in my own house! I shouted back, I wont be told how to live here! He threatened, Your son doesnt see me as a man. Explain that to him.
Mum swooped in, Whats the matter, love? Ians also registered heremaybe we can all live together peacefully. I asked, bewildered, Did you actually register him as a resident? My mouth dropped open; Mum had never even considered that before.
What? Why? Hes forty nowhe should have his own place! I protested. As we bickered, the front door slammed. Ian, apparently offended, stormed out. Mum flinched, ready to chase after him, but I held her back.
Mum, whats happening? Is he doing something to you? Should we see a doctor? I asked, searching her eyes. She broke down, Do you understand? I think Ive finally fallen in love! And Ian loves me! Do you think its easy living without a husband? Tears flooded her face. I was at a lossmy heart ached for Mum, for Poppy, and for myself. My university lectures felt distant, my future uncertain.
The only way out seemed to be to get rid of Ian. Persuasion didnt work; it was as if he had hypnotised Mum. I turned to the internet for answers. Mum, either you kick him out or Ill take legal action, I said firmly. What court? Ian lives here legally, she replied, just as resolute. You registered him when I was a minor. Things have changed. Think about it, I pressed.
Two days later Ian vanished, apparently unwilling to face a courtroom. Mum now watches me with watery, reproachful eyes, then drifts away for days, perhaps reconciling with her lover. Ive transferred to parttime study and found a job back in Manchester. I hope Mum will come to her senses, and for now Ill stay closejust in case anything else goes wrong.
