5November2025
Im writing this because the past eight months have felt like a nightmare I cant shake off.
It began when Mum, Nora, moved in with me, my wife Megan and our daughter Lucy after she sold her twobedroom flat in Salford for £120,000 to fund what she thought would be my startup. Shed given me the money, trusting my promise that within six months the venture would profit and wed buy a bigger house where everyone would have space.
The first sign that something was wrong came one morning in the kitchen. Megan, standing by the sink with an empty bag, snapped, Ian, you forgot the bread! I was exhausted from a tight deadline at work, my head thumping, and I muttered an apology before slumping into a chair. Megans voice rose, You always have a headache! Whos going to the shop, me?
Nora, seated quietly with a cooling cup of tea, offered, I can pop to the shop. Its just down the road. Megan snapped, No, you bought the wrong loaf last time. I asked for a wholegrain loaf and you brought a white one. Nora tried to explain that the bakery was out of wholegrain, but Megan was already listing grievances: the wrong dishes, the TV too loud, anything that could be criticised.
I left the kitchen without a wordmy usual escape when arguments flare. Watching Nora, I barely recognised the mother who used to be kind and attentive. Shed become a shadow, withdrawn and cold.
Later, Megan sat opposite her and said, Lets be honest. Nora hesitated, About what? Megan replied, About how cramped this is for everyone. Lucy is growing; she needs her own room. Youre taking up the living room.
Nora reminded me of my promise, You said wed buy a larger home with my money. Megan answered, Your money went into the business. I tried to defend myself, I said it was an investment, that wed see a return in six months. Megans lips pursed, Business is unpredictable. The moneys gone.
Noras face fell. So we wont get a new flat? Megan said, Not any time soon. Youll have to find somewhere else.
How? My pension is only £1,500 a month. That wont even cover a room. Megan shrugged, Thats your problem. Weve tolerated this for eight months. She left the kitchen, and Nora sat, stunned, as if the floor might give way beneath her.
That evening I tried to speak with Mum in my bedroom, where I was glued to my laptop.
Mum, can I have a word? she asked, perching on the edge of the bed.
Megan says I must move out, I said flatly, not looking up.
She stared at me, eyes pleading, But where will I go? I have nowhere to live!
I tried to remind her of her past work as a teacher, You never saved much, did you? She snapped back, I saved £120,000 and gave it to you for the business.
Exactly. Those were my savings, she whispered.
I finally looked up, I never promised you a return. I said Id try. It didnt work.
It was my money, Ian! I sold my home on your word!
I didnt force you to sell, I replied, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
She asked, trembling, Will you really throw me out?
No one is throwing you out. Its just too tight. Find a room; Ill chip in.
How much?
£500 a month extra.
My pension is £1,500, she protested. That wont even get a studio.
Ill help as best I can, I said, then turned back to the screen. The conversation ended there.
The next morning, I found my mothers belongings packed in cardboard boxes in the hallway.
Youre not living here any longer, I said, trying to keep the tone steady.
What?! she shouted. Mum, are you serious?
Yes, I replied. Megan and I have decided. You need to move out today.
She clutched the wall, eyes wide, Ian, have you lost your mind?
Its your problem now. Youre an adult; youll manage.
She stared at me, Im your mother!
I answered coldly, And what? I owe you everything? Im fed up hearing it.
She fell silent, tears starting, while Megan entered in a robe, Ian, dont shout. Lucy is asleep.
Megan shrugged, We talked yesterday. You must find your own place. The money went into the business; that was your decision.
Nora whispered, I have no money for rent.
Megan suggested, Look in the outskirts; its cheaper.
Ill add £500 a month, I said, trying to sound generous.
She shivered, That wont even get a room.
Well figure something out, Megan said, and left.
Desperate, Mum called her old friend Lucy (no relation), who lived alone in a onebed flat in Leeds after her husband passed away.
Lydia, can I crash at yours for a few days? she asked.
Of course, Nina. What happened?
She explained the loss of her flat, the betrayal, the forced eviction.
Lydia hugged her, Youll be fine. Its a tight squeeze, but youll have a roof.
Nora stayed with Lydia for a week, scouring adverts for a room. All the listings were either grim studio flats for £2,000 a month or shared hostel rooms. She finally settled for a modest studenttype hall in Manchester, a tenmetre room with shared bathroom. The resident, a chatty sixtyyearold, asked, Where are you from?
From my sons house. I had to move out, Nora replied.
The hall was noisy, the showers always busy, but it became a roof over her head. She called me once a week, asking about Lucy and the family. My answers were brief, Alls well, busy at work. I offered, Ill add £500 monthly. She replied, That barely covers a cupboard.
Months passed, and the silence grew. One afternoon a young girl knocked on the hall door.
Are you Nina? the child asked.
Yes, who are you?
Im Lucy, your granddaughter.
She ran into my mothers arms, Grandma, I escaped because Mum wouldnt let me see you.
We talked, she told me about the constant fights at home, about Megan claiming Id stolen their money, about her fear. I felt the sting of my own failures.
The next day Megan called, Dont try to win Lucy back, Nina!
Its not that, my mother protested.
Megan shrugged, Shes siding with you now.
Later, I walked into the hall, bruised, eyes red. Mum, can I come in?
She let me in, and we sat on the narrow bed.
Im sorry, I said, tears breaking. I was a fool, let the business ruin us, let you be cast out.
She held me, Ive already forgiven you, Ian. Youre still my son.
I promised, Ill work hard, earn enough to buy you a proper flat.
She answered, Money isnt everything. Being together is.
Over the following year I found a stable job, saved, and bought a modest onebed flat in a decent neighbourhood. Nora moved in, and for the first time in years she felt truly at home.
Lucy visits on weekends, we bake pies, the house is full of laughter.
Lesson:Family is built on love and responsibility, not on cash or promises that vanish. When I finally faced the consequences of my choices, I learned that the real wealth lies in keeping the people who matter close, no matter how hard the road gets.
