Six months later, I was carted off to an orphanage while my aunt flogged my parents flat on the black market.
When I turned five, I became an orphan. Responsibility for me landed in the lap of my auntmy fathers sister. While my parents were alive, we wanted for nothing. They held high-ranking jobs, owned a spacious flat in London, and even had a cosy little cottage in the Cotswolds. After they died, everything went pear-shaped.
Auntie was busy doting on her own daughter, Poppy, but we never quite hit it off. My cousin took the mickey out of me constantly, even though she was younger. Aunt Margaret, though all sweetness and light to strangers, was tight-fisted and sharp as a tack. Not once did she spare me a kind word, a hug, or so much as a biscuit.
From the get-go, my chores included scrubbing the house and washing up. Telly was strictly off-limits, and sweets were bought exclusively for Poppy. Before long, Auntie flogged my dads Jaguar. Mums clothes and jewellery vanished, while she and Poppy started dressing like they owned Harrods. They swanned off to cafés and posh restaurantsnever once inviting me.
As a kid, I didnt twig that Margaret had sold everything and claimed the money was for my upkeep. A few years later, we moved into her cramped one-bed flat on the fringes of Croydon. Half a year after that, I was dumped at the orphanage, and she flogged our old flat too.
It took some getting used to, but I soon settled into the new digs. I got a decent education and, once I finished school, rented a tiny flat. I landed a job as a cleaner at Tesco, with promises of a promotion. Then one day, the owner popped in.
When Mr. Thompson spotted me, he asked me to his office after my shift. I walked in to find him alone. He wanted the full storymy life, what my parents had done. So I told him everything, start to finish.
He smiled and said he remembered me from when I was small. Hed been mates with my parents. Years back, hed started a business, built up a chain of shops, and was now developing a new shopping centre. Once it opened, theyd need a manager. He offered me the jobexcept I didnt have the qualifications.
I was about to turn him down when Mr. Thompson promised to help me get trained up. Hard to say no to that. The course wasnt a walk in the park, but it was interesting. I aced it and, sure enough, landed the jobwith a salary that made my eyes water.
Years rolled by. I bought a two-bed flat in Chelsea. Then one day, Poppy turned up on my doorstep. No clue how she or Aunt Margaret tracked me down, but in her usual bossy tone, Poppy demanded I let her in and find her a job.
Since she didnt have a degree, I offered her temp work as a cleaner. She bristled, refused outright, and immediately rang her mum. Aunt Margaret screeched down the phone that I owed her for my upbringing, that without her, who knows where Id be? She even threatened revenge if I didnt help Poppy.
Mixed feelings? You bet. All those years apart, and she hadnt changed a bit. But I had. I wasnt that defenceless little girl anymore. And frankly, I decided I didnt need an aunt like thator a cousin, for that matter.
