13October2025
I arrived at the small station in Ashford just as the commuter service from London was pulling in. The carriage window was cold, and I pressed my forehead against the glass, feeling the chill that matched the uneasy knot in my stomach. It had been five years since Id left this town, five years spent grinding in a London law firm, taking twelvehour days, forgoing everything that wasnt essential even the coffee from the office machine. Every penny went into a savings pot for my own flat. I was only six months away from having enough for a deposit.
Then, in the middle of a hectic morning, my mother called, sobbing, babbling about debt collectors, threats and a mounting bill that we could no longer meet. I took an unscheduled day off and caught the first train back.
The house greeted me with the smell of potatoandleek soup and the wary eyes of my parents. My mother, Margaret, who seemed a decade older, darted around the kitchen, constantly wiping her hands on her apron. My father, John, sat at the table staring at nothing. On the sofa, my younger sister Poppy leafed through a bridal magazine, oblivious to the tension.
Mark, love, thank heavens youre here, my mother rushed to me, voice shaking. Were totally tangled up in these debts
What debts? I asked, sitting opposite my father. Explain clearly.
John sighed, pulled a thick folder from a drawer and began.
It started three years ago. Poppy got a job at a hair salon. The pay was small, but she said it was temporaryuntil she found a suitable husband.
Dad, not the husband thing again! Poppy snapped, not looking up. I just want to live nicely, not like you, who deprive yourselves of everything.
I nodded, urging my father to continue.
Poppy opened a credit card, then another. The minimum payments were tiny a few pounds a month. At first we didnt worry. Then she started asking us to chip in a hundred here, two hundred there. We thought, Shes young, she doesnt know better; well help.
And you began taking out loans? I prompted.
First a small personal loan, Margaret interjected, to clear Poppys cards. Then She waved helplessly.
Poppy finally set the magazine aside and sat up.
Listen, Mark, its not a mountain of money. Youve got savings you always brag about how frugal you are.
How much? I asked quietly.
John slid a sheet across the table. I skimmed the figures, and my throat went dry. The total debt eclipsed everything I had saved for my flat.
Have you lost your minds? I asked, voice trembling.
It built up gradually, John defended. We covered one loan with another, the interest kept swelling
And what was Poppy doing all this time? Wasnt she working?
I was working, Poppy retorted, but you know how wages are here. At the salon I earned thirty pounds a week. Try living on that! Then I took a shop job forty a week, horrible hours, I quit after a month. Then a café
How many jobs in three years? I pressed.
Maybe ten. I cant stay where I dont like it!
Anger flickered inside me.
And what did you survive on? Dads pension and Moms shop wages?
Poppy kept saying shed be married soon, Margaret said timidly. She has plenty of admirers
Admirers! I exploded. In three years not a single serious man, but a mountain of debt!
Why are you so harsh? Poppy pouted. Are you jealous that I have a personal life while youre just work and no fun?
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself.
Fine. Tell me exactly whats happening now. Threats? Deadlines?
For the next hour I examined the documents, called the banks and asked questions. The picture was bleak: daily calls from debt collectors, warnings that our home could be seized.
What did you buy with this money? I asked after the last call.
Poppy needed a car, John started. Used, on credit
Why does she need a car?! I demanded.
She wanted to be like everyone else, Margaret defended. Everyone has a car, and she was walking everywhere!
It then needed repairs. We bought it with mileage, John continued. A new phone, furniture for her room
With that kind of money?! I shouted.
Look how beautiful it turned out! Poppy exclaimed, dragging me into her bedroom.
I stared at the opulent room: a massive canopy bed, a vanity that looked straight out of a film set, a walkin wardrobe, a flatscreen TV, an airconditioner, all in soft rosegold tones.
Its like a palace! she beamed. And I needed decent clothes. Mom also bought herself a mink coat
A mink coat? Margaret whispered. Poppy said it was shameful to wear an old one
We also bought Dad a suit, jewellery for me, new dishes, a refrigerator, a washing machine
Back in the kitchen I collapsed onto a chair. Every expensive appliance, every piece of furniture, even the curtains had been bought on credit.
So youve been living on borrowed money, I said.
We thought Poppy would marry, John said quietly. She had several serious suitors
Yes? Poppy confirmed. There was Andy, a company director turned out he was married. Then Sam he runs a business but moved to Manchester. And Mike
What about Mike?
He was decent, but he lived in a oneroom flat. I cant live in a oneroom place! And then his flat was mortgaged too.
I closed my eyes. I was renting a onebed flat myself, dreaming of owning a place, even if it meant a mortgage.
Poppy, youre twentyfive. Its time you earned your own living.
Why? she asked, genuinely surprised. Im going to get married. Normal men provide for their wives.
And if you dont?
I will. Im pretty and young. Look at you always working, a grey mouse. Thats why youre alone.
My fists clenched.
What do you plan to do about the debts?
We were thinking Margaret stammered, maybe you could help? You have the money, youve been saving for years
Mark, Poppy cut in, what does it cost you? You live alone anyway, no kids. Why do you need a flat? I need to start a family.
So you want me to hand over all my savings?
Not hand over help the family, John corrected. Were not strangers.
I paced the kitchen, numbers flashing in my mind. My savings were almost the entire amount of the debt. I would be left with barely a hundred pounds. Everything I had earned over five years would vanish on Poppys whims.
What about my flat?
Youll save again, Poppy said lightly. Youre good at making money. I dont have time, I need to marry while Im still young and pretty. After thirty itll be too late.
So Im supposed to work till Im old to pay for your entertainments?
What entertainments? Poppy objected. These are necessities! How can I be without a car? Without nice clothes? You understand yourself
I understand that youre used to living at someone elses expense!
Children, dont fight, Margaret intervened weakly. We know were asking a lot, but we have no way out. The collectors are threatening
And what, did you think loans dont have to be repaid?
We thought somehow John said, flustered. Poppy promised shed get married
I pulled out my phone.
All right. Let me call the banks and see what can be done.
Two hours later I had a proposal: restructure the debt, stretching payments over a longer term, but the monthly instalment would still be about £500. With a combined family income of £800, that meant living on scraps.
Theres another option, I said. Sell everything bought on credit the car, the furniture, the appliances. That would cover about half the debt. The rest we could spread over five years in modest payments.
What do you mean, sell? Poppy was horrified. My car? My furniture? Well lose everything!
And what do you propose?
You should give us the money! Poppy snapped. Were family! Or are you too stingy for your own kin?
I dont owe anyone anything, I replied coolly.
You do! John burst out. We raised you, fed you, clothed you, sent you to university! And now, when we need help, you turn your back!
I looked at my parents the people who had let their younger daughter live off them, who had plunged into debt for her whims, and who now demanded that I pay for their irresponsibility.
You raised me that was your duty. I got an education and a job, I support myself. And she I gestured at Poppy, what has she been doing all these years?
She was hunting for a husband! Margaret exclaimed. Thats not easy either!
Does husbandhunting cost this much?
Mark, enough! Poppy exploded. Do you think youre the only smart one? I have a right to be happy too! If I need money for a beautiful life, why shouldnt the family help?
Because it isnt your money!
Whose then? Yours? You earned it by working like a horse and forgetting your personal life. What good did it do you? Youre alone and miserable, but rich. Ill be happy in marriage, and the money will come.
From where?
My husband will earn it! Normal men provide for the family!
And while theres no husband Im supposed to provide for you?
Who else? John interjected. We have no one but you! Cant you seewere desperate! The collectors are threatening us!
My anger boiled over. They werent asking; they were demanding my money, my dream, my future.
You know what, I said, standing, Ill think about it.
Theres nothing to think about! Poppy snapped. Either you help the family, or youre not our sister!
Or our daughter, John added.
I slipped into my old bedroom the one my parents never bothered to remodel. A modest desk, a narrow bed, shelves of textbooks. Simple, unchanged.
I lay down and closed my eyes. Five years of austerity, five years of denying myself any small pleasure, five years of dreaming about a home of my own all to pay for Poppys outfits and whims?
Maybe I should help. After all, theyre family. And if the collectors took them to court, my parents might lose the roof over their heads.
But then my flat would be postponed another five years, maybe more, if they kept borrowing once they saw I was willing to pay.
I got up, went to the window, watched children playing in the courtyard. Somewhere in London, my future flat a modest onebedroom on the outskirts waited. And for it I was ready to work another five years.
Back in the kitchen the family waited for my decision.
Well? Poppy asked impatiently.
I will not pay your debts, I said firmly.
What do you mean you wont? Mother could not believe it.
Exactly that. Youre adults. You got yourselves into this get yourselves out.
But how will we manage without your help? John clutched his chest.
Sell everything you bought on credit. Let Poppy find a proper job not pennies at a salon, but a decent wage as a courier with her car, or sell the car and get an office role.
Im not becoming a courier! Poppy protested. And Im not selling the car!
Then youll stay in debt.
Mark, were perishing here! Dont you feel sorry for us? Mother pleaded.
I do, but not enough to sacrifice my whole life for Poppys whims.
So youre an egoist! Poppy shouted. You dont care about family!
Youre the egoist, I replied calmly. You lived off others for five years, racked up debt, dragged our parents into it, and now expect me to pay for everything.
Who else then? You have money!
I have money I earned for my own goals.
What goals? A flat? Poppy scoffed. Youre thirty, living alone like an old maid! Why do you need a flat to sit in it by yourself?
Poppy! Mother scolded.
What, Poppy? Let her hear the truth! She thinks buying a flat will make happiness fall from the sky? Who would want a grey mouse like her?
A cold, unpleasant feeling rose within me not anger, but a frosty contempt.
And you think youre the beauty and the brains? I asked quietly. In five years you havent found a decent man, havent held a stable job, dragged us into debt thats success?
Ill find someone, Poppy snapped.
You will. Just not someone wholl pay your debts. Any decent man would run from a wife like that in a month.
Hed run from you! Im the pretty one!
Beauty without brains or conscience is a cheap commodity.
Poppy leapt to her feet.
How dare you! Mother, do you hear what shes saying?
Children, calm down, Mother said weakly. Mark, maybe not all the money, but at least some?
Not a penny, I cut off.
Then were finished, John whispered.
Nothing of the sort. Youll sell your things, restructure the remaining debt, Poppy will get a job and in a few years youll pay it off.
And if we dont?
Thats your problem.
But you could help! Mother persisted. Dont you pity us?
I looked at her the woman who had sent me away in tears five years ago, now demanding I hand over everything Id saved.
Im sorry you let Poppy become an egotist and a freeloader. Im sorry you fell into debt for her whims. But I will not pay for your mistakes.
Mistakes? Poppy flared. Whats wrong with wanting to live beautifully?
Whats wrong is living at someone elses expense, not working, and demanding others solve your problems.
I did work!
You worked for months and spent for years.
So what? Money isnt the most important thing in life!
Then why are you demanding mine?
Poppy fell silent, thrown off balance.
Mark, John said quietly, we thought you would help. Youre our son.
I am your son. But I am not obligated to pay for your foolishness.
And if we have nowhere to go?
Youll sell the flat and buy a smaller one. Poppy will get a job. Mom, Dad, youre not that old you can pick up extra work.
Sell the flat? Mother gasped. But this is our home!
And the debts are your debts.
So youre abandoning us! Poppy cried. What a daughter you are!
I stood, grabbed my bag.
Where are you going? Mother asked, frightened.
To the station. Im leaving early tomorrow morning.
Wait! they both rushed toward me. Lets talk it over again!
Theres nothing to discuss. My decision is final.
Mark, at least half! Mother begged.
You wont get a single pound from me! I said sharply, turning to them. You got yourselves into debt youll pay it back yourselves! I will not support you!
I reached the door, looked back.
And dont call me again. Ever. Live by your own wits.
The door slammed so hard the panes rattled.
On the stairwell I leaned against the wall, hands shaking, heart pounding. For the first time in my life I had spoken to my own family this harshly. And for the first time I felt truly free.
The commuter train took me back to LondonMonths later, I finally held the keys to my own flat, the quiet hum of the city outside reminding me that independence, once seized, is the most rewarding home of all.
