I cant help but feel that my brother didnt exactly make the best choice in his marriage. Honestly, when they first got together, I tried to keep things cordial with my sister-in-law. For a while, my brother and his wife moved in with Mum and me. I ended up moving into the box room, Mum took the lounge, and gave the main bedroom to them. But from the very start, Charlotte made it quite clear through her actions more than her words that she thought herself superior.
She boasted about being the daughter of a university lecturer, and she had no intention of helping with the cleaning or cooking. She made it known that she wasnt some housemaid. When Charlotte fell pregnant, she insisted she needed peace and quiet for the sake of the baby. Mum isnt one for confrontation, so she simply kept her thoughts to herself, quietly putting up with everything. I couldnt even invite my friends round any more the house was Charlottes domain now.
She demanded special meals and absolute silence. Mum now had to cook for them separately, which felt utterly exhausting. More than once, I urged Mum not to bend over backwards for Charlotte, who became more entitled by the day. It all came to a head as she neared her due date Charlotte insisted that her unborn child deserved a nursery of his own. She wanted me moved out of my new, tiny room and into Mums cramped lounge. That was the last straw. The row that followed was explosive; Charlotte burst into tears, shouting like wed forced her into labour prematurely. My brother, of course, leapt in to defend his wife and called me spoiled. Finally, Mum had enough and told my brother hed have to sort out their living arrangements. In the end, they moved out.
Afterwards, I wasnt even told when their son arrived, nor was I invited to the christening. Charlotte informed us, rather coldly, that there was no need to bring gifts cash would do, and she even named the amount in pounds sterling.
Mum admitted she couldnt possibly spare that sort of money. As a result, access to the baby was forbidden. At first, Mum was heartbroken, but soon enough, Charlotte started dropping the boy round herself on her terms, always. It would always be last minute, always because she fancied a coffee with her friends or wanted her nails done. Every time she collected her son, there was some criticism he wasnt dressed properly, hadnt been fed the right food, the list went on.
When the child turned one, my brother and Charlotte visited us with another request they needed to sort out their housing situation. She couldnt get a mortgage, so Charlotte announced shed be going back to work and I should, apparently, drop out to look after their son.
Youre training to be a teacher, arent you? she said. You need some practical experience. Its not easy for us, living off just Toms wages, but we cant afford to pay you anything. And uni? Well, maybe you could switch to part-time studies. We need your help.
Of course, I refused outright.
I couldnt make my brother understand that their housing drama didnt concern me in the slightest. Why should my own education and future be sacrificed for them? As a result, I had to endure more lectures from Charlotte about how selfish I was.
Charlotte swore none of them would ever set foot in our home again. And for about six months, they really didnt. Then, out of the blue, my brother turned up. It turned out Charlotte had started working and met another man there. She divorced my brother and demanded child support.
Now, she threatens my brother with whether hell see his son depending on whether he pays up. If he pays the maintenance, hes allowed access; if not, he may as well forget he has a son. Only problem is, the new man in Charlottes life wasnt rushing to marry her he already had a wife. So now my brothers ex lives in a rented flat, which, ironically, my brother is still paying for.
Now my brothers come to us, apologised, and promised that next time, hell choose more wisely.
