I was right to be worried.

Not because Carl has lost my key, as I first thought, but because he’s purposely avoiding giving it back. Why would that be?

Maybe my only course of action is to get the lock changed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Barb

My eyes are heavy; my limbs too. I try to rub away the stiffness in my legs. I’m so tired. I lie awake worrying most nights. I have done for a long time, but it’s been even worse since Amber split up from Nick. I honestly didn’t see that coming. After a shaky beginning, where I didn’t think Amber was good enough for my Nick, I grew to accept, even love her. I treated her like a daughter because she’d lost her own mother at a young age. How stupid of me to have trusted her with my family. With my house.

Looking back, I’ve made a number of mistakes, though. Or maybe I should say errors of judgement. It’s not just Amber who has the monopoly on that. If I hadn’t had to ask Nick for help – get that second mortgage, put his name onto everything – I’d have the money to buy my house back now. But, I did what I had to do at the time. I was struggling financially – had been since Bern’s death. Eventually, the only way of keeping the house was to get Nick to put his money in. Which, of course, meant that when I agreed he and Amber should have the house for themselves, he only had to buy my share. If I’d insisted on them moving in with me, instead, I’d still be there. But I didn’t. I sank that money, and the only savings I had, into this sheltered bungalow. Even if I could sell it right now, I couldn’t raise enough money to buy the house back outright. And clearly, at my age, I’m not going to be able to get a mortgage. Not even a loan with my credit history.

Thanks, Bern.

People start to ignore you when you hit a certain age, I’m sure of it. Not in the sense they don’t speak to you anymore, no – it’s more that they don’t see you. And what they choose to see isn’t always the reality. For example, I know Amber sees me as the annoying mother-in-law. More than that, she sees me as a bit frail – arthritis limiting my movements. It does affect me, that’s very true, but it’s not debilitating yet. I don’t need to limp or hobble. That’s what Amber perceives because sometimes, I admit, that’s what I choose to show. There’s a certain sense of safety in her believing I’m not as agile as I actually am.

I suppose it’s an element of control that I have. That I need.