When I got back from my trip, I found all my stuff strewn across the lawn with a note on it: If youre going to stay, youll have to live in the cellar.
Im James, 29, and two years ago my life took a turn I never saw coming. Id been living in a rented flat in Manchester, working as a software developer, earning a decent wage and enjoying my freedom. Then my parents rang for that dreaded conversation nobody wants to have.
James, we need to talk, my mother said, her voice tight and weary. Can you come over tonight?
When I arrived, Mum and Dad were at the kitchen table, papers everywhere. Dad, looking older than his 58 years, and Mum fidgeting with her hands as she always does when shes stressed.
Whats happening? I asked, sitting down opposite them.
Dad cleared his throat. I had to quit my job last month. My backs been giving me trouble and I cant do construction work any more. Ive been looking for something else, but nothing pays enough.
A lump formed in my stomach. I knew Dad had health issues, but I hadnt realised how bad it had become.
We cant meet the mortgage, Mum added, her voice shaking slightly. Im still working parttime at the supermarket. We bring in about £950 a month, and the mortgage is £1,500.
That was the moment they asked me to move back in and help with the bills. They didnt want to lose the house theyd lived in for two decades. I looked around the kitchen where Id had cereal as a kid, the sitting room where wed watched films together, the garden where Dad had taught me to ride a bike.
Of course Ill help, I said.
So I left my flat and moved back into my childhood bedroom. At first it felt odd, but I set up my laptop, got a solid broadband connection and carried on working remotely. The arrangement turned out better than Id expected. I earned about £70,000 a year as a developer, but the real money came from bonuses. Whenever one of my programmes was sold to a big tech firm, I received a cutsometimes an extra £8,000, sometimes £12,000.
I used my regular salary to cover the mortgage, utilities, food, car insurance and the other household outgoings. It wasnt a strain. What Mum and Dad didnt know was that I was stashing every bonus in a separate savings account. I never told anyoneneither my parents nor my older brother Mark, who lives on the other side of the city with his wife Sarah and their two kids, Jack and Lucy. I loved my family, but I knew what would happen if they discovered my true earnings. Theyd find all sorts of ways to tap into it. Mark was always asking for money.
Hey James, can you lend me £400? Jack needs new football boots.
Sarahs mum needs surgery and were short on the hospital bills.
I helped when I could with my normal pay, but I kept quiet about the bonuses. After two years Id saved nearly £150,000, planning to buy my own house soon.
Everything was fine except for the Sunday family dinners. Mark and Sarah turned up every week and those meals were torture. Sarah never liked me, and she made sure I knew it.
James, whats with that shirt? shed say, eyeing me as if Id been dumped out of a skip. You dress like youre still at school. Dont you care about your appearance?
Mark would laugh. Shes just trying to help, little brother. She knows fashion.
The worst part was watching Sarah flaunt the designer dress shed bought with the money Mark had borrowed from me. Shed prattle on about investing in quality pieces. Id usually slip away to my room, claiming work deadlines, and hear her climb the stairs: There she goes again, hiding in her little bubble. Shell never grow up if she keeps dodging real life.
I kept my mouth shut and kept saving. Soon Id be free of all that.
One weekend I took a proper break and stayed at my friend Janes cottage. When I got back Sunday night, I saw too many cars parked outside and lights on in every room. I walked to the front door, saw toys scattered on the porch, and opened it to a scene of chaos.
Jack and Lucy were darting around the sitting room, Mark was lugging boxes up the stairs and Sarah was directing everything like she owned the place.
Whats going on? I asked, standing in the doorway with my travel bag.
Everyone stopped and stared. My parents emerged from the kitchen looking guilty.
Mark dropped a box with a thud. Hey, little brother. Plans have changed. Ive lost my job and we cant afford the rent.
I looked at the piles of boxes and furniture. So youre staying here?
Just for a while, Mark said. Until I find something new.
Sarah shuffled over with a forced smile. We really appreciate you letting us stay. Well have to make a few adjustments. Your bedroom would be perfect for the kids. You could move into the small room at the end of the hallway.
Im not moving out of my room, I replied firmly. I work from home. I need my desk and a good internet connection.
Sarahs smile faded. Well, the childrens needs come first.
And Im the one paying the mortgage and the bills, I snapped.
Sarah crossed her arms. That doesnt give you the right to be selfish. Were family.
Family that never asked if they could be guests, I retorted.
Fine, Sarah said when I refused to budge. Keep your precious room. Dont expect us to be grateful when you cant even be decent to a family in need.
I went up the stairs and shut the door behind me. That was the start of a nightmare.
The house was constantly noisy. Mark spent his days on the sofa, making halfhearted phone calls about jobs that never materialised. Meanwhile Sarah acted as if she were doing us a favour. The worst part was trying to work. The kids would bang on my door and interrupt my video calls.
Could you please keep the children quieter during my working hours? I asked Mark one morning.
Theyre just kids, he said without looking up from his phone. You wouldnt understand because you dont have any.
The tipping point came two months later. I came back from the shops to find my internet dead. I checked the router and saw the Ethernet cable cleanly cut in two.
I was furious, marched down the stairs with the snipped cable in my hand. Who did this?
Sarah was on the couch, painting her nails, and laughed at the sight of the cable. Oh, that. Jack was playing with the scissors and must have gotten into my room. Kids will be kids.
Thats not funny! I have a deadline tomorrow!
Maybe you should lock your door if youre so worried about your precious computer bits, she shrugged.
You should be watching your son and teaching him not to wreck other peoples property! I snapped back.
Thats when Sarahs fake sweetness vanished. Dont you dare tell me how to raise my children! You have no idea what its like to be a mother.
I know what it is to respect other peoples things, I shot back.
When I explained the incident to Mum and Dad and to Mark, I expected their support. Instead they sided with Sarah.
Youre being harsh, James, Dad said. Its just a cable. You can buy a new one.
I could hardly believe it. I was the one footing the roof over their heads and they were defending her. After that, the house felt cold and hostile.
Then the bonus Id been waiting for finally arrived. One of my programmes sold for a huge sum, netting me almost £50,000. My savings jumped to almost £200,000.
Id already been quietly talking to a former university mate, David, a property agent. Three weeks after the bonus, he called. I think Ive found it. A twobed flat in the city centre. Great building, perfect for someone who works from home.
The flat was everything Id dreamed offloortoceiling windows, wooden floors, a separate office space.
Im taking it, I told David before we even finished the viewing.
Two weeks later I was signing the final papers, keys in my hand, but I still hadnt told the family. Then my boss rang with a twoweek programmers conference in Edinburgh, all expenses paid.
Im in, I said.
When I told my family I was going, they barely reacted. The conference was brilliant. I didnt call home once, and, surprisingly, no one called me.
When I landed back home, I took a taxi to the house. As the cab pulled up, I knew something was wrong. My belongingsclothes, books, personal itemswere shoved into black garbage bags and left on the lawn.
I walked to the front door and rang. My parents, Mark, and Sarah were all there.
Whats this? I asked, pointing at the bags.
Sarah stepped forward, a smug look on her face. Weve made a few changes while you were away. The kids needed more space, so we turned your bedroom into a proper playroom.
We sorted the cellar for you, Mum said, avoiding my gaze. It turned out pretty decent, actually.
The cellar. Dark, damp, smelling of mould.
Of course, Sarah added, beaming, if you dont like the arrangement youre always free to find your own place. Youre 29, after all.
I looked at my parents, waiting for them to say something, to stand up for me. They just stood there, eyes fixed on the floor. Then, oddly enough, I smileda genuine smile.
You know what, I said brightly, youre right, Sarah. I should find my own place. But Im curioushow exactly do you plan to pay the mortgage without my money?
Mark straightened, looking proud. I actually got a job last week. Good salary. Well manage fine without your help.
A wave of relief washed over me. Thats wonderful news! Im really happy for you. So, I suppose everything works out perfectly then.
Their faces were bewildered. Theyd expected a plea or a fight. Instead I acted as if theyd done me a favour. Sarahs smile widened. Good. Time you learned to stand on your own two feet.
They went back inside and slammed the door shut. No goodbye, no wellwishes, just a bang.
I called a removal company. Two hours later a van arrived, and in under an hour everything was packed into a small truck. I followed it in my car to my new flat, finally free.
The first thing I did was block all their numbers and cancel every payment Id been making. The months slipped by peacefully. I got a promotion, my bank balance grew, and I even started dating someone. Life was good.
One afternoon the doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole and felt my stomach drop. There they wereMum, Dad, Mark, and Sarah.
I opened the door but didnt invite them in. How did you find me?
Jane told us, Mum said.
Sarah slipped inside immediately. Nice place, she said, eyes scanning with obvious envy. It must have cost a fortune.
What do you want? I asked.
The thing is, Mark began, I lost my job again. Two months ago.
And were struggling with the mortgage, Dad added.
I almost laughed. Let me guess. You want me to start paying for you again?
Were family, Mum said desperately. We need to help each other.
Help each other? I repeated. When have you ever helped me?
Weve been thinking, Mum continued, and if the house gets repossessed well have to move in with you.
I stared at her. Excuse me?
Well, where else would we go? Sarah said with that familiar smugness. Were family. You cant just leave us.
I burst out laughing, a deep, incredulous laugh. Do you really think Ill let you move in here after you tossed my stuff on the lawn and told me to live in the cellar?
That was different, Mark muttered weakly.
Youre right, it was different, I said, my voice cold as ice. That was the moment I saw what you all thought of me. You werent grateful; you felt entitled. Theres a difference.
Sarahs face twisted with fury. Youre a bitter, selfish woman who doesnt understand what family means!
Youre right, I replied, walking to the door and flinging it open wide. I dont get your idea of family where one person does everything and is then treated like garbage. I want you all out. Now.
James, wait Mark began.
Weve already spoken, I cut him off. The answer is no. To everything. I wont pay your mortgage. I wont let you move in. I wont help any of you again.
But were family! Mum shouted.
Family isnt how youve treated me, I said. Now get out.
They left, Sarah hurling insults down the hallway as I shut the door and bolted it.
Three months later I heard the house had been repossessed. Mum moved into a tiny flat, and Mark and Sarah were staying with her parents. I felt nothingno guilt, no sadness, just relief.
My life kept getting better. I finally understood what a healthy relationship looks like. Sometimes I wonder if my family ever thinks about how different things could have been if theyd shown me a bit of respect. Then I remember Im far better off without them. Some people will take everything you give them and still demand more. Some see kindness as weakness and generosity as an obligation. And Im done feeling obliged to anyone who wouldnt lift a finger for me.
