For more than twenty years, my husband and I lived in the same flat in Leeds. Oh, I still remember our first attempts at renovationsendless trips to B&Q, arguing over wallpaper, and all that jazz. We raised our only son there, and later on, he brought home his fiancée. She was barely out of sixth form, from a rather turbulent family, bless her. I treated her as if she was my own daughter, but somehow, she always needed more.
From the moment she walked through the door, things changed. Our son, who used to be a lovely lad, respectful and considerate, suddenly became the maid for his girlfriend. Every penny he earned, he spent on her. As he drifted away, splurging on her every whim, he grew increasingly rude towards us. Suddenly, he was convinced the flat was rightfully his, since hed inherit it one day. He went so far as to threaten to kick us out, waving inheritance law around like an eviction notice.
To make matters worse, my husband and I started feeling dreadful: pounding headaches, constant fatigue, and Id even faint on occasion. Our days at home were a struggle, only work offered a semblance of normalcy.
One day, I confided in Mum about how rotten I felt, and about all the drama at home. She was convinced something sinister was afoot in the kids roomsuggested I check for strange objects. She muttered about curses, which I dismissed as nonsense, but lo and behold, I found sewing needles stabbed into the pillows on the top shelf of their wardrobe, where the clean linen was kept.
Mum promptly sent round her friend, a self-proclaimed house cleansing expert. She announced the flat was brimming with bad vibes, and wandered about trailing a candle, muttering from the Book of Common Prayer. For a few days afterwards, everything felt oddly normalthe son was gentle again, the air seemed lighterbut a week later, it all went pear-shaped again.
Desperate, my husband and I met with the house-cleansing woman. We discussed the recent upheaval, the guests whod come through the flat, especially the fiancée, and the new behaviour of our son. She was adamant: we needed to leave, and not let the girlfriend cross the threshold of wherever we ended up.
As it happened, our son had wanted his own place anyway, so together we agreed to sell our three-bedroom flat, with the proceeds split into two tidy one-bedroom flats. Miraculously, our son managed to bag himself two rooms, while my husband and I moved into a cosy little flat that suited us perfectly. Slowly, everything returned to normalour spirits, our health, even our marriage.
Just as we were settling in after work one evening, there was a knock at the doorour son. His fiancée had finally secured herself a flat, demanded a divorce, already had a new fella and was expecting his baby. And our son, the loveable fool, had let her twist his mind enough to transfer the deed of their flat to her.
She tried to evict us, she tried to curse the family. That girl truly turned our lives upside down. Ill never forget those needles, and the wave of hatred that followed. She clearly despised usand as soon as she got what she wanted, she let us walk out of her life with barely a backwards glance.
