When There’s Discord in the Family, Even Home Fails to Bring Joy

Family feuds never make a house feel like a home.

I can still hear Lily Harpers furious outburst: I hate him! Hes not my father! Let him go! She swore wed survive without her stepdad. I never understood why there was such a war in that household. Why couldnt they just get along? The heat of their arguments was invisible to me.

Lilys younger halfsister, Ada, was the child of her mother and the stepdad. From the outside it seemed the man treated both girls equally, but that was just my naive view. In truth Lily never rushed home after school. She timed her departure to avoid the man she despised most the loathsome stepdad. Yet, more often than not, her calculations failed and he was still in the house, and Lily would run out of town in a frantic hurry.

She would whisper to me, Lock the door, Vicky, and stay in my room. Then she would bolt into the bathroom, waiting for the stepdad to shut the front door behind him. The moment he did, Lily would emerge from her selfimposed exile, sighing with relief:

Finally hes gone! Vicky, youre lucky to have your own dad at home. Im stuck here. Its all so sad, she breathed, heavy with melancholy, Come on, lets go to the kitchen for dinner.

Lilys mother, Margaret, was a consummate housewife. In their home food was a ritual. Breakfast, lunch, tea, supper all measured, all balanced. Whenever I visited, a steaming hot meal awaited on the table, pots and pans draped in towels as if waiting for diners.

I also remember Lily despising Ada, ten years her junior. She teased, taunted, even fought with her. Years later they would become inseparable, but at that time the rivalry was fierce.

Lily eventually married, had a daughter, and, except for her stepdad, the whole family emigrated to Australia for a fresh start. Twelve years later Lily gave birth to another little girl. Ada, who never married, remained a lifelong spinster but helped Lily raise her children. From across the world they kept in touch, letters flowing until Lilys fathers death. He had a second wife, making Lily his only child from the first marriage.

Despite growing up with both biological parents, all my other friends were raised without fathers. As a child I was oblivious to their grievances about stepparents, but their lives were far from easy.

Ivys mother and stepdad were chronic drinkers. Ivy was ashamed of them, never inviting anyone over, fearing the stepdads tirade and her mothers heavyhanded discipline. When she turned fifteen she finally found the courage to stand up, and the stepdad and mother left her alone.

Vicky, youre invited to my birthday, Ivy announced brightly one day.

Your house? Im nervous, Ivy. Wont your stepdad kick us out?

Let him try! His power over me is gone. Mum gave me my real dads address hes my protector now. He lives nearby. Come, Vicky. Mums already bustling about, she declared, more confident than ever.

The day of Ivys sixteenth birthday arrived. I arrived with a small present and rang the doorbell. Ivy opened the door, dressed up and smiling:

Come in, love! Have a seat.

Her mother and stepdad stood by the table, nodding in sync as we greeted them shyly. The birthday spread was modest: a bowl of pilau rice, sliced bread, lemonade in crystal glasses, and a few crisp pastries. Ivy was proud of these humble treats.

I thought of how my own family fed us on special occasions. My mother would spend the whole day at the stove, preparing salads, roast, fish, pies, cake, juice, and compote. Every home has its own comfort foods.

I ate the pilau with a piece of bread and washed it down with lemonade, leaving the delicate pastry aside for fear of crumbling the tablecloth. Ivys parents remained statuesque at the table, watching us. In the corner of the room a bed held Ivys grandmother, who whispered, Nora, dont drink! Youll forget us and stop feeding us.

Ivy blushed, Grandma, dont worry, mum isnt drinking. Weve only got lemonade, no spirits. The old lady turned toward the wall, murmuring a thankyou for the food before settling down.

We said our goodbyes and hurried out; youth has too many things to do for us to linger with the elderly. Within a year Ivy lost her mother, stepdad, and grandmother. At twentyfive she was alone, never married, childless, despite several admirers. One of those suitors turned out to be my exhusband, who Ivy eventually took in, though nothing lasted her temperament was too combative.

I also kept close with Tracy, who was fourteen like me. Tracy lived with her older sister, Annie, who had just turned eighteen. Annie seemed mature, stern, and sensible. Their mother visited weekly, bringing groceries and cooking for the girls, while she lived with her first husband. Annie was born from that first marriage; Tracy came from the second. After a couple of years with her second husband, their mother returned to her first, having given birth to Tracy. I envied Tracys relative freedom; her mother seemed forever trying to appease the first husband, while Annie gathered a small crowd of suitors.

Tracy later married, had a daughter, and her husband was sentenced to a long term in prison. She fell into heavy drinking. At fortytwo her sister Annie discovered her dead in the flat.

Nikki joined our Year 10 class, and we struck up an instant friendship. She was striking, with a graceful figure and a lilting voice. The boys swooned over her, but she already had a boyfriend, Kyle. He would arrive in his car after school, whisk her away, and disappear for hours.

Nikkis father died before she turned ten. She struggled academically but sang beautifully. Together with Kyle they formed a school band that performed at the endofterm dances. When Kyle was called up for national service, Nikki escorted him to the station, shedding a tear, then refused to wait for his return. She bore a son of unknown paternity and lived with her mother.

When Kyle came back and asked for forgiveness, Nikki rejected him:

Youll spend your life blaming me for being your son. Id rather be alone.

Later, when her son grew up, Nikki planned to marry a farmer and move to the countryside.

All these friends existed in my life at once, yet none of them got along with each other. In fact, they couldnt stand one another.

Now I only correspond sporadically with Lily, my childhood confidante. She writes that she will do anything to protect her own family:

I dont want my daughters to endure what I did, living under a stepdads roof. If I have to sort things out, itll be with my real father, not some strangers brother. Blood ties will grind everything down. The stepdad is a scar Ill carry forever.

Sometimes Lily and I reminisce about school pranks and laugh. The traces of Ivy and Nikki have faded, but the memories linger.