When I was ten, my father married again. My new stepmother fell pregnant almost at once and soon gave birth to a son. Overnight, I was transformed into a free nanny, a kitchen girl, and the familys maid rolled into one.
Everyone just called me Oi, you. I wore clothes Id long outgrown, while my brother received shiny new toys nearly every week. By the time he could walk, my bit of space was taken away entirelymy old bedroom went to my brother, and I was promptly dispatched to sleep in the kitchen.
Perhaps the only deed of my fathers I can genuinely thank him for is putting a swift end to my stepmothers attempts to hit me. But he turned a blind eye to the endless unkindness. Each day was punctuated with reminders that I was uglyno one would ever want meand too thick to ever get an education. Mark my words, youll end up scrubbing floors for a living, shed say.
Every single day, my stepmother told me I’d be tolerated here only until my eighteenth birthday. After that, she promised, its the pavement for you.
Every school holiday, I was bundled off to my grandmothers. She too saw me as her familys black sheep. Shed curse the day her son married my mother and openly rejoice that my mother was no longer alive.
Half a year before I turned eighteen, I overheard my father and stepmothers hushed plotting through a half-open door, and suddenly everything fell into place. She was saying Id never agree, but my father was confidently promising hed make me sign the house over to him, assuring her she neednt worry.
Well, he was wrong. My stepmother had something to worry about, all right. Their fussing, and my younger brothers cheeky shoves, stopped bothering me entirely.
Once, the idea of reaching adulthood had filled me with dread. Now, I looked forward to it. My eighteenth birthday tea was a grand occasiona proper tea and cake spread with everyone present: my father, stepmother, grandmother, and her family. As soon as the crumbs were swept up, I was told to get ready and asked where I thought I was going. My grandmother answered in grave tones:
Today, youre an adult. Youre accountable for yourself now. Today youll also thank your family for all theyve done. Youll accompany your father to the solicitor and sign the house over to him. This house was left to you by your mother, but that was never meant to be. She promised it to my son. Time to do your duty, so get yourself ready.
Their faces were so solemn, I almost burst out laughing.
Yes, Gran. I’ll thank you all for what youve done for me. In fact, as my token of gratitude, I wont make you all leave todayIll give you a week to pack up. Times up.
Well, that set the cat amongst the pigeons. There were shrieks of ingratitude, my stepmother wailing about having raised a viper in her midst, and my father landed a stinging slap across my cheek. My stepmums parents began muttering theyd warned her about taking on another womans child. My grandmother stormed out, doors banging behind her.
In the end, they all moved outinto my grandmothers house.
A few days later, my father appeared on my doorstep. He thrust a scrap of paper into my hand, declared if I wouldnt give him the house, Id have to pay back my debt, and walked away. There, in black and white, was a sum.
Did it matter that parents have a duty to support their underage children? Apparently not to my father. So, I got a job and, for the past six months, have handed over a third of my pay packet to him each month to cover this so-called debt.
Itll take seven or eight years to repay it all. But after that, Ill be free at last.
