Gran said: Now youll go with your father to the solicitor and sign over the flat to him
When I was ten years old, my father remarried. My new stepmother was soon pregnant, and before long, gave birth to a baby boy. Just like that, I became the resident unpaid nanny, cook, and cleaner.
At home, I was known simply as Hey, you. My clothes had long been too small, but my younger brother was given a shiny new toy almost every other day. The moment he was old enough, I lost claim to my own bedroomI was packed off to the sitting room, while my brother was awarded my room.
The only thing I can thank my father for is that he put a stop to my stepmothers attempts at smacking me. But he never stopped her need to humiliate me. Every single day Id hear that I was uglyno one would ever want meand thick as two short planksId never get a proper education and was destined to work as a charlady.
My stepmother reminded me daily that I was only tolerated in the house until my eighteenth birthday; after that, shed happily kick me out on the street.
All school holidays I spent at my grandmothers. She too made it clear I was the black sheep of the family. Shed curse the day her son ever wed my mother, celebrated when my mum walked out, and insisted Id never amount to anything.
Ive often wondered why they never simply sent me to a foster home.
Six months before my eighteenth, I overheard a chat between my father and stepmother, and suddenly everything made sense. My stepmother grumbled that Id never agree to their plan, and my father assured her hed talk me round, that they needn’t worryId sign the flat over to him.
Well, they were wrong. My stepmother had every reason to worry. I was beyond caring about their snide remarks, and my little brothers constant jibes had lost their sting.
Where once Id dreaded my eighteenth birthday, now I awaited it eagerly.
At my birthday teamy first proper party with cake and biscuits in nearly a decadeeveryone turned up: Dad, my stepmother, Gran, and my stepmothers parents.
After the last bit of Victoria sponge was eaten, Gran stood up and told me to get ready. Where to? I asked, already suspecting the worst. She replied crisply:
Youre an adult now. From today, youll answer for your own actions. Its time to show gratitude for all your familys done for you. Today, youll go with your father to the solicitors office and sign over the flat. You inherited the property from your mum, but that wasnt how it should have been. She promised to write her will so my son would get it. Do your duty, and get ready.
Their faces were so serious I almost laughed.
All right, Gran, I said. Ill thank my family for all they’ve done for me. As a gesture, rather than evicting you today, Ill give you all a week to pack up. Your times up.
That set the cat among the pigeons. They accused me of being ungrateful, my stepmother screamed about raising a viper, my father actually punched me in the face, and my stepmothers parents told her they’d warned her about the ingratitude of other peoples children. Gran strode off, slamming the door.
They moved out. They all moved in with Gran.
A few days later, my father turned up. He handed me a piece of paper, told me that since I hadn’t given him the flat, Id have to repay him and left in a huff.
I unfolded the sheet and found a list:
Food £7,200
Clothes £1,200
School supplies £310
Toiletries £55
Household appliances £100
Council tax £1,440
Total: £10,305
So much for parents being obliged to support their children, I thought.
I found work, and for the last six months, Ive handed over a third of my wages each month to my father.
Itll probably take me seven or eight years to repay him completely. But once thats done, Ill finally be free.
Theres one thing Ive learnt from it all: Family isnt the people youre born to, its those who actually care enough to treat you kindly.
