Let myself in for trouble
Dad, whats with all these new things? Did you loot an antiques shop or something? Grace arched her eyebrows, staring at the white crocheted doily on her dresser. I never took you for a fan of all things ancient. Honestly, your taste these days is just like Grandma Mollys…
Oh, Gracie? What are you doing here without ringing first? Peter Harris stepped out of the kitchen, looking startled. I… wasnt expecting you…
He certainly tried to seem upbeat, but his eyes flickered with guilt.
I can see you werent expecting me, Grace said, lips pursed, heading into the lounge to uncover more surprises. Dad… wheres all this from? Whats going on here?
Grace couldnt recognise her own flat.
When shed first got the place from Grandma Molly, it was rather grim. Old British furniture from the 70s, a chunky television on a battered stand, rusty radiators, peeling wallpaper… but it was hers. By then, Grace had saved up a little money and spent it all on a proper renovation, nothing slapdash about it. She chose a cool, bright Scandi styleminimalist touches made the two-bedroom flat feel bigger. She added accents with care, found curtains in exactly the right shade, laid thick rugs…
Now, instead of her heavy blackout curtains, there were flimsy net drapes in the window. Her Italian sofa was buried under a polyester throw depicting a snarling leopard. On the coffee table stood a lurid pink plastic vase filled with equally garish faux roses.
And that was only half the trouble. What worried Grace most were the smells. From the kitchen came the hiss of fish frying in oil and waves of tobacco. Her dad didnt even smoke…
Gracie, listen… Peter finally began. Its a bit awkward… Im not alone now. I meant to tell you earlier… just didnt get round to it.
Not alone? Grace echoed, thrown. Dad, this isnt what we agreed!
Grace, you do realise my life didnt end with your mum? Im still a young manhavent even hit pension age. Surely Im allowed a personal life?
She was stunned. Yes, of course, her dad had every right to date. But not in her place!
Her parents had divorced last year. Mum took his affair with calm detachment, as if shed shed a weight, and threw herself into self-improvement. She was never short of friends, so there was no time to mope. Dad, though, took it terribly. He moved back to his bachelor flat and was appalled by the state it was in. Hed rented it out for years, until one tenant nodded off with a lit fag. With no money for repairs, Dad gave up on the placedidnt sell it, but didnt plan to live there.
It was practically uninhabitable. Blackened walls, smashed windows, mould on the sills… It resembled a crypt more than a home.
Oh Grace, love, I just dont know how Ill manage… Dad fretted, sighing deeply. Its dangerous here, and I cant get it fixed before winter. I havent got the money. Well, Ill freeze, thats that… Must be my fate.
Grace couldnt stand it. She wouldnt let the man whod raised her live like that. And shed just moved in with her husband, leaving her old flat emptyshed had a bad experience letting Dad rent out property, and wasnt about to risk it herself.
Dad, why dont you stay at mine for now? she offered. Everythings set up, nice and cosy. Sort out your own repairs, move back when youre ready. Just one ruleno guests.
Really? he looked astonished. Grace, thank you so much! I owe you everything. Promiseitll be quiet as anything.
Quiet. Sure.
As Grace replayed this conversation in her head, the bathroom door flew open and a plume of scented steam poured out. Striding through it came a woman in her fifties, wrapped in Graces favourite terry bathrobeher beloved one, now straining to contain the strangers curves.
Oh Pete, weve got company? the woman asked, her voice crackling from too many cigarettes. You mightve told melook at me, all casual!
And who exactly are you? Grace narrowed her eyes. And why are you wearing my bathrobe?
Im Sharon, your dads lady friend. Whats with the attitude? I took the bathrobe because it was just hanging there doing nothing.
Grace felt her temples throb with anger.
Take it off. Now, she said through clenched teeth.
Grace! Dad pleaded, stepping between them. No need for drama! Sharon just
Sharon just swanned in and took my things in my own home! Grace cut him off. Dad, are you serious? You bring your girlfriend here and let her rummage in my stuff without asking?
Sharon rolled her eyes theatrically and stomped off to the lounge, flopping onto the leopard throw.
What a rude child, she declared. If I were Pete, Id teach you some manners. Is this how you speak to your father? Him shacking up with another woman is none of your concern, dear.
Grace was lost for words. This stranger was bossing her about in her own home.
None of my concern, she agreed. Until it happens under my roof.
Your roof? Sharon raised an eyebrow at Dad, who shrank back, casting anxious glances between irate daughter and shameless partner. He hoped the storm would clear on its own, but it was only gathering force.
Oh My dad forgot to mention, did he? Grace gave Sharon a frosty smile. Well, Ill say it. Hes nobody herea guest. This flat is mine. Everything here, down to the last saucepan, I bought. I let him stay, never thought hed invite his lady friends.
Sharon flushed scarlet.
Pete?… she hissed, voice frigid. Whats this nonsense? You told me it was your place. Have you been lying to me?
Dad pressed himself into the wallpaper, burning red with shame.
Well Sharon, thats not exactly what I meant. You misunderstood. I have my own place; just, its not this one. I didnt want to burden you with the details…
Didnt want to burden me?! Oh, brilliant! Now thanks to you, Im being lectured by your daughter!
Graces patience snapped.
Out, she said quietly.
What? Sharon started, shocked.
Out, both of you. An hourafter that, well settle this with the law. Thats what I get for being generous…
Grace made for the door, but Dad finally peeled himself off the wall and rushed to her.
Sweetheart! Youre chucking your own father onto the street? You know whats waiting for me! Ill freeze in that place!
He clung to her sleeve. For a moment, Graces heart wavered. Childhood memories, duty, pity for her nearly elderly dad… There was a lump in her throat.
But then she saw Sharon.
There she sat, legs crossed, in the borrowed robe, glaring pure hatred. Graces doubts vanishedif she backed down now, tomorrow Sharon would change the locks and redecorate the place.
Dad, youre a grown man. Look for a rental, she said, pulling herself free. You broke our dealwere supposed to live alone, but brought a stranger instead, let her wear my things and trashed my home…
Oh, stuff your precious home! Sharon snapped. Come on, Pete. Stop grovelling to her. Shes ungrateful…
Thirty minutes of packing and that was that. Dad left silent and bent, looking years older. The look he gave, beaten-dog under the rain, will stay with me forever. But I stood firm.
Once theyd gone, I threw open the windows to air out the stink of fish, cigarettes and cheap perfume. I scooped up the robe, the throw, anything Sharon had touched. Straight in the bin. Next day, I called a cleaning crew and a locksmith. I couldnt stomach the thought of her things contaminating mine.
…Four days went by.
Graces flat was her own again. No fake roses, no strange odours. She mostly stayed at her husbands, yet it was freeing, knowing her space was hers.
She hadnt spoken to Dad. But on the fourth day, he rang.
Hello, she said after hesitating.
So, Grace… Dad started, voice slurred with drink. Happy now? Pleased? Sharons gone. She left me…
How surprising, Grace snorted. Let me guessshe saw your proper flat and realised it was a tip needing more than a lick of paint?
Dad sniffed.
Yeah… I got a heater, been sleeping on an airbed. She lasted three days… Stuck it out, then called me a cheat and a pauper. Packed up, went to her sister. Said it was a waste of time… But we loved each other, Grace!
Oh please, Dad. You just wanted somewhere comfy; so did she. You both miscalculated.
He fell silent. Clearly not done.
Its lonely here, love, Dad admitted. Its scary… Can I come back? Just me, I swear! Promise!
Grace looked down. Her father sat somewhere, cold, alone. But this mess was all of his makingcheating on Mum, deceiving me, stringing Sharon along.
Yes, I pitied him. But my sympathy could poison us both.
No, Dad. I cant let you back, she replied. Hire a builder. Get it sorted. Learn to live with what youve earned. I can give you contacts if you wantthats all. Sorry, but if you need advice, just ask.
She hung up.
Harsh? Maybe. But Id rather keep stains off my robeand off my soul. Some messes cant be scrubbed out; you have to stop them ever entering your life.
I realise now: kindness isnt letting yourself be walked on. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is draw the line, and keep your homeand your heartclean.
