Let Them In and Regret It: When Dad Moved In, I Got More Than I Bargained For — From Antiques to Uni…

Letting Trouble In

Dad, whats with these new things? Did you clear out an antique shop? Christine raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she stared at the white crocheted doily on her dresser. I never pegged you for someone into old stuff. Your taste is properly granny-like, just like Grandma Zoe used to have…

Oh, Christine, darling! You dropped by unannounced? My father, Alan Thompson, stepped out of the kitchen. We… I mean, I wasnt expecting you, love…

Dad was clearly trying to look cheerful, but there was a guilty look in his eyes.

I can see you werent expecting me, Christine muttered, annoyed, and marched into the living room, ready for whatever strange surprises lay ahead. Dad… Where did all this come from? Whats going on here?

It didnt look like her flat anymore.

…When she first inherited it from Grandma, the sight was downright depressing: battered old furniture, a bulky TV perched on a peeling stand, rusty radiators, wallpaper coming off in patches… But it was hers. By then, Christine had some savings. She spent them on renovations not just any kind, mind you. Her choice was the Scandinavian style: bright tones and minimalism made her little two-bedroom feel bigger, airier. She’d put so much care into selecting curtains, plush rugs, and making sure every accent was just right…

Now, instead of her thick, light-blocking curtains, there was a plain net curtain. The Italian sofa was buried beneath a synthetic throw with a grinning tiger. The coffee table propped up a garish pink plastic vase packed with equally lurid artificial roses.

That was the least of it. The smells worried Christine most. Frying oil and fish wafted from the kitchen, and there was a reek of tobacco. Her dad didnt even smoke…

Christine, love, you need to understand… Dad finally spoke. Thing is… Im not alone. Meant to tell you earlier, but well, I didnt get round to it.

Not alone? Christine faltered. Dad, that wasnt our agreement!

Christine, you must realise my life didnt end with your mum, you know. Im still young enough, I haven’t even drawn my pension yet! Dont I get to have a personal life?

Christine paused in shock. Of course, Dad had every right to date other women. But not in her flat!

…Mum and Dad had split a year back. Mum was rather unfazed by his affair, as if shed shed a burden, diving headfirst into self-improvement. With so many friends, she barely had time to be sad or lonely.

But Dad lost it. Hed gone back to his bachelor flat and nearly fainted. Ten years of letting it to tenants, the last one had nodded off with a cigarette, causing a fire. There wasnt money for repairs, so Dad just forgot about the place. He didnt sell, but nor did he plan to live there.

Frankly, there was no way anyone could. The walls black with smoke, smashed windows, mould on the sills It felt more horror-movie crypt than home.

Christine, I dont know how Ill cope… hed groaned to me then. Can hardly stay here, and Ill never finish the repairs before winter. I barely have enough for a start. Guess Ill freeze… Maybe its just fate.

I couldnt bear it. Not letting the man who raised me live in such conditions. What if something happened? My flat was empty anyway; Id just married and moved in with my husband Rob. After what happened with Dad letting his place, I wasnt about to risk doing the same.

Dad, come stay at mine for a bit, I offered. Everythings ready there, all the essentials. Take your time with repairs, then move in. Just one rule: no guests.

Really? Are you sure? Dad asked, surprised. Christine, youre a lifesaver. Promise, Ill keep things nice and quiet.

Yeah, well. So much for quiet.

As I recalled our chat, the bathroom door swung open, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam. Out glided a woman in her fifties, waltzing around in Christines favourite bathrobe her towelling one. The pink belt strained to contain the woman’s ample curves.

Oh, Alan, looks like we have company? croaked the lady with a smokers bass, shooting a patronising grin. You mightve said something, so I wouldnt be caught in my dressing gown.

And you are? Christine narrowed her eyes. And why are you wearing my bathrobe?

Im Janet, your dads sweetheart. Not sure why youre so tense. I just grabbed the robe wasnt being used, was it?

Christine felt the blood pound in her temples.

Take it off. Now, she spat.

Christine! Dad cried, leaping between them. Dont start! Janet just

Janet just went rummaging in someone elses house and helped herself! Christine snapped. Dad, are you serious? You brought your girlfriend here and let her pick through my stuff?

Janet rolled her eyes and waddled into the lounge, slumping heavily onto the tiger blanket.

Youre a rude brat, she declared. If I were Alan, Id give you a good hiding, no matter your age. Is that how you speak to your dad? His choice to live with another woman is none of your business, missy.

Christine was dumbstruck. Some random lady, lounging on her sofa, bossing her around like a kitten caught in a puddle.

Not my business until it happens under my own roof, she replied.

Yours? Janet arched her brows, glancing at Dad.

He stood by the wall, head drawn in like a tortoise, flicking his gaze from furious daughter to defiant lover. Clearly, he hoped this storm would somehow pass, but the forecast had just changed for the worse.

Oh, did my dear father forget to mention that? coldly, Christine smiled. Then I will. Hes a guest here. This flat every saucepan and pillow all mine. I let him stay, not expecting hed invite his girlfriends.

Janet flushed deep scarlet.

Alan…? she hissed in icy tones. Whats she on about? You told me this was your flat. Have you been lying?

He wriggled even closer to the wallpaper, ears burning.

Well Janet, you misunderstood. Ive got my own place, just not this. Didnt want to bore you with the details.

Didnt want to bore me! Thanks a lot! Now Ive got her shouting and making a scene!

Id reached my limit.

Out, I said quietly.

Sorry? Janet blinked.

Out. Both of you. Youve got one hour. If youre still here, Ill involve the authorities. Makes you think twice about who you let in, doesnt it…

As I headed to the door, Dad finally broke and darted over.

Christine! You cant throw your own father out! You know what my place is like! Ill be ruined!

He clung to my sleeve, and my heart wavered for a moment. Childhood memories flooded back, that sense of duty, pity for my almost old dad My throat tightened.

But then I looked at Janet.

She sat there, leg cocked, in my robe, glaring at me with pure venom. All hesitation vanished. If I let it slide now, tomorrow shed change the locks and slap up new wallpaper.

Dad, youre old enough. Rent a place, I said, pulling away. You broke our deal. You were meant to live alone, but dragged in this woman, let her use my things, and trashed my home…

Oh, keep your fancy house! Janet barked. Come on, Alan. Dont lower yourself. Raised an ungrateful child

Half an hour of packing, and that was it. Dad left silently, hunched over like a beaten dog. Ill never forget that look, but I held firm, not moving an inch.

The moment they were gone, I threw open every window to chase away the fish, smoke, and cheap perfume. Janets robe and blanket, everything shed left behind straight in the bin. Next day, I hired cleaners and a locksmith. It felt revolting to touch anything after her. Especially her.

…Four days passed.

Christine’s flat was hers again. No fake flowers, no nasty odours. She was living with Rob, but knowing her space was clean felt like a burden lifted.

She hadnt spoken to Dad since. On the fourth day, he called.

Hello? Christine answered after a pause.

Well, Christine Dads voice was slurred. Are you happy now? Janets gone. Shes left me

Shocking, she replied dryly. Let me guess she took one look at your actual flat, realised how much work was needed, and scarpered?

He sniffed into the receiver.

Yeah I set up a heater. Slept on an air bed. She lasted three days… Gave it a try, then called me a liar and a pauper. Packed up and went to her sisters. Said shed wasted her time But we loved each other, Christine!

Love? No, Dad, you both just wanted an easy ride. You miscalculated, thats all.

He paused. Clearly, he hadnt quite finished.

Its miserable here alone, love, at last he muttered. Its scary… Can I come back? Ill be by myself, I swear! Honest!

Christine looked down. Her father, stuck somewhere in that cold wreck, brought on by his own choices: cheated on Mum, deceived his daughter, conned Janet.

She pitied him. But that sort of pity poisons everything.

No, Dad. You cant come back, she replied. Hire some builders. Fix it up. Learn to live with what youve made for yourself. I can recommend some good lads, if you want. Sorry, thats as much as I can do. Call me if you must.

Then Christine hung up.

Harsh? Maybe. But she wasnt about to let anyone leave marks on her houseor her soulagain. Sometimes, you can’t clean up the mess; you just have to not let it in at all.

Lesson learned: Be careful who you open your door to, and dont let misplaced sympathy trample the boundaries you set for your own peace.