The Bitterness at the Depths of My Soul: “I’ve had enough of you—off to care you should go! Leave our family for good!” I screamed at the top of my trembling voice. My outburst was aimed at my cousin, Danny. Oh, how I adored Danny as a child—his golden hair, his sparkling blue eyes, his brilliant laugh. He was always the brightest star at every family gathering, a storyteller and a talented artist who could fill a sketchbook in an evening. I treasured every drawing he gave me, keeping them safe in my desk. Danny was two years older than me. Then, when he was just fourteen, his mum—the sister of my dad—died suddenly. The entire family scrambled: who would take Danny in? His own dad was out of the picture, already settled with a new family “not wanting any disruption.” One by one, the relatives shrugged their shoulders. “We have enough on our plates, our own families.” In daylight, kin are everywhere; at sundown, none to be found. So, despite having two children already, my parents took Danny in. At first, I was glad, but that feeling soon changed… On his very first day in our house, Danny’s behaviour showed a side I’d never seen. My mother, trying to comfort him, asked gently, “Is there anything you’d like, Danny?” Without hesitation, he replied, “A train set.” That was a pricey toy in the ‘80s, and I was stunned. Your mum’s barely passed and all you want is a train set? Still, my parents bought it, and soon came more requests: a tape recorder, jeans, a branded jacket—things not just expensive but hard to find. Mum and Dad gave Danny whatever he wanted, even if it meant less for my brother and me. When Danny turned sixteen, it was girls next. But when he started making advances towards me—his cousin—I held my own, always fending him off, sometimes even physically. I never told my parents; kids don’t talk about these things. Having failed with me, Danny turned to my friends, who fought for his attention. And then he started stealing—blatantly. Once, he emptied my piggy bank, my carefully saved money for gifts. He denied it flatly, not even a hint of shame. Living in the same house, stealing from us—Danny tore the heart out of our family, yet treated us as if we owed him everything. I grew to hate him. One day, I finally snapped and yelled, “Get out of our family!” After that, I cut him from my life. Only later did I learn the relatives all knew what he was like—they’d seen it for years living nearby, while we, separated by distance, had been clueless. Danny’s former teachers had even warned my parents: “You’re taking on more than you know. He’ll ruin your children, too.” Danny left school and immediately married a girl named Katie, who loved him all her life. They had a daughter, and Katie suffered his endless lies and affairs. As they say, trouble in maidenhood, doubly so in marriage. Throughout, Danny relied on Katie’s enduring devotion. He served in the Army, stationed in Yorkshire, where he fathered a son in another family. Ultimately, Katie went north, collected him, and brought him back home. My parents never received a single thank you from Danny—not that they expected it. Now, Danny is sixty, a regular at church. He and Katie have five grandchildren. On the surface, everything looks fine, but the bitterness of our family’s past with Danny lingers on to this day… And I wouldn’t choose honey to sweeten it.

BITTERNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SOUL

Youve belonged in care for ages! Get out of our family! I screamed with a voice trembling from fury.

The target of my outrage was my cousin, Daniel.

God, how much I adored him as a child! Straw-blond hair, blue eyes like cornflowers, and a cheerful disposition. That was Daniel through and through.

Our relatives often gathered for celebrations. Out of all my cousins, Daniel held a special place in my heart. He could weave words like a skilled craftsman and was a talented artist too. In a single evening, hed dash off half a dozen pencil sketches. Id stare in awe, unable to look away from his creations. Quietly, Id gather them up and tuck them away in my writing desk. I treasured his drawings.

Daniel was two years older than me.

When he was fourteen, his mothermy fathers younger sisterdied suddenly. She simply didnt wake up one morning.

Suddenly, everyone was faced with the question: what on earth to do with Daniel? First, they turned to his father. He was difficult to findtheyd long been divorced, and the man had built a new life with another family by then. He refused to disrupt his peaceful, established world.

The rest of the relatives just shrugged and muttered, We have our own families, our own worries. Daylight relatives, as they say, but dusk falls and theres no one to be found.

So, with two young children already, my parents became Daniels guardians. After all, his late mother was my dads little sister.

At first, I was delighted Daniel would live with us. But that feeling didnt last long.

From the first day in our home, Daniel’s behaviour unsettled me. Wanting to comfort the orphan, Mum gently asked him, Is there anything youd like, Daniel? Dont be shy. Without missing a beat, he said, A toy train set.

Now, this was no ordinary toyit cost a fair bit. I couldnt believe it! His mum had just died, the closest person in the world, and all he could think of was a train set? How could he?

Nevertheless, my parents bought him the set straightaway. And from there, it started: Get me a cassette player, a pair of jeans, a branded coat This was the eighties, mind you. None of these items were easy to get, and they certainly werent cheap. My parents, denying us much, kept granting Daniels wishes. My brother and I tried to be understanding.

When Daniel turned sixteen, girls appeared on the scene. He turned out to be a real ladies man. Worse, he tried to flirt with mehis own cousin. But I was an athlete and agile enough to avoid his inappropriate advances. We even came to blows a few times, and I often cried my eyes out.

I never told our parents. Who wants to upset their mum and dad with something like that? Children rarely bring such things up.

Having been firmly rejected by me, Daniel quickly moved on to my friends. They, oddly enough, clamoured for his attention.

And he stole. Boldly and shamelessly. I remember having a money box. I saved my lunch money all term to buy gifts for my parents. One day, the box was empty. Daniel denied everything, swore blind he hadnt touched itnot a flicker of shame on his face! My heart broke. How could he steal from family, under the same roof? He didnt just break the ruleshe shattered them. I sulked and stewed while Daniel just couldnt see why I was upset. He seemed to think the world owed him. I began to loathe him. That was when I finally snapped:

Get out of our family!

I remember giving him a tongue-lashing no hat could hold.

Mum barely managed to calm me. From that moment, Daniel ceased to exist for me. I ignored him completely. Later, I learned the other relatives had always known what sort of character Daniel was. They all lived nearby, so theyd seen plenty. Our family, however, lived in a different part of town.

Daniels teachers had warned my parents: Youre making a mistake taking him on. Hell be a bad influence on your children.

At his new school, Daniel met Charlotte, who would love him her whole life, eventually marrying him right after school. They had a daughter together. Charlotte would stoically endure Daniels tricks, his endless lies, and countless affairs. As they say: Suffer as a girl, and therell be twice the sorrow when you wed.

All his life, Daniel would take full advantage of Charlottes love, as if her soul were bound to his.

Then came military service. Daniel was posted in Yorkshire. There, he managed to set up a second family. How? He clearly had time during leave to build a whole new life. After demob, Daniel chose to stay in Yorkshirehe now had a son there.

Charlotte didnt waste time. She went to Yorkshire, managed through sheer determination (and some tall-tales) to haul Daniel back home, back to his original family.

To this day, my parents never received so much as a thank you from Daniel. Not that they ever expected itthey did it out of duty, not for gratitude.

Now Daniel Edward is sixty. A devoted member of the local Anglican church. He and Charlotte have five grandchildren.

Everything seems fine, but the bitterness in my heart from my years with Daniel has never left meand Ill never be able to take honey with him.