Before Alice departed, for a long while we lived in her parents house, nestled somewhere between dreams and distant English towns. Our eldest was brought up by the grandparentsa pair who seemed to drift through rooms, humming tunes from old radio shows. My relationship with her parents felt sturdy, as if made from stone, and I believed they trusted me completely.
When we discovered Alice was expecting again, my father-in-law decided to take out a loan to help us purchase a new place. The currency was pounds, though the bank felt more like a maze than a financial institution. At first, it was a one-bedroom flat on the misty edge of Birmingham, but by the time the baby was due, we somehow managed to swap it for a two-bedroom. Since Alices parents had contributed more, we initially put the deeds in my father-in-laws name. He was the one handling all the paperwork and carrying keys that jingled mysteriously. Our plan was to change the ownership to Alice after the birth, but she didnt survive the delivery. I found myself alone with two children, lost in a haze of endless corridors and echoing voices.
Alices parents mourned for long, their sadness filling the house with whispers and tea left to chill. Mostly, it was my parents who helped me, bringing strange gifts and ghostly comfort. I worried that Alices parents might despise me or the new granddaughter, the baby who arrived amidst fog and uncertainty. But my fears were unfounded. It took them several months, but eventually they stepped out from the shadows, actively joining our days, sharing laughter that sounded like church bells. I owed them more than I could express. Still, there was one peculiar snagmy father-in-law refused to discuss the flat.
About a year later, I raised the subject, and was met with a dismissive snort. Apparently, not enough time had flown by, and the fact that I had two children and no official residency didnt ruffle anyones feathers. He insisted he trusted me, swore his affection for his grandchildren was the brightest thing in his pocket, but hed never consider transferring the deeds.
It didnt seem entirely fair, since Id also sunk my own pounds into the home. I dreaded a quarrel with Alices kina row could see me and my children swept out onto rainy streets, with nothing to prove what wed given. The house seemed to shift and shimmer, full of doors that wouldnt open and rules written in invisible ink.
