Page 2 of Firethorne
I lost both parents on the day my mother died, but I fought to get one of them back.
Back then, after hitting rock bottom, my father managed to build himself back up. He sought counselling and started working, and life became steadier, more manageable. He’d found purpose in living, and slowly, so did I.
Until the day it all came crashing down.
So, where did it all go wrong?
My father’s problem was he’d always listened to the wrong people. He was a financial advisor who took the worst advice. And after a few misguided business dealings, placing trust where it shouldn’t have been placed and thinking he was savvier than he was, my father lost it all. Our money, his clients’ money, his job, our home, and our standing in a community that was fickle and fierce in their revulsion of how far we’d fallen. They couldn’t turn their backs on us fast enough. We were discarded like last week’s newspaper. Left on the rubbish heap of life. Learning the hard way that the people we’d had in our lives only wanted us around if it benefited them.
Because after everything fell apart, they didn’t want to know us.
They crossed the street to avoid us. If bad luck was catching, like a virus, we were riddled with it, and they avoided us like the plague. Nobody wanted to help, but that was okay, we were used to the hard knocks of life. In my opinion, it’d always been the two of us against the world.
I was the only one who knew what’d happened to him in the years after Mum died.
But I had to admit, I was scared out of my mind, that after this latest catastrophe, he’d turn to the bottle. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again to drink.
Creditors had turned up on our doorstep. They took everything we owned, leaving us with a few worthless belongings and the clothes on our backs.
The dire reality of our situation also meant I couldn’t continue with my studies. I needed to go out and earn money too. I couldn’t let my father face this alone.
So, I told my professors at the university that I wouldn’t be returning the following term. It broke my heart to leave, but what else could I do? I couldn’t afford to be there. I needed to be with my father and help him through this. I wanted to make sure he didn’t fall victim to his demons again.
“We have a hardship fund set up to help students just like yourself, Maya,” my English Literature tutor had stated, hope flickering in his eyes. “The Earnshaw Scholarship was created especially for cases like yours,” he went on, but I didn’t listen. I switched off as he explained the ins and outs of the fund, begging me to apply.
But there was no hope, and I didn’t want false promises.
When he’d finished, I thanked him and took the necessary forms. But the minute I left his office, I put them straight in the bin. Hardship funds might cover the cost of tuition fees, maybe housing. But what about food and basic needs?
I wasn’t going to beg anyone.
I would make my own way in this life.
And I might be leaving my studies behind now, but it wouldn’t be forever. I’d find my way back one day.
And then, last week, everything changed.
The dark clouds that were circling, suffocating the life from us, lifted when my father announced that all our prayers had been answered.
He’d been offered a job.
A live-in post on an estate owned by a wealthy family.
My father would become the estate manager in exchange for board and lodgings. I’d never heard of the family, and when I questioned him, trying to find out more about his new, infamous—according to him—employees, his answers were vague and non-committal.
Google was no better. Their names were listed on a few business websites, but no photographs, no social media. Nothing. They were ghosts in an age where nothing and no one could hide from the world.
It made me wary.
I wasn’t stupid. And I struggled not to doubt my father’s judgment after everything that’d happened with his bankruptcy. But I couldn’t deny the news that someone wanted him after all he’d been through had put a smile on his face, and that was worth more than anything to me, because it gave him hope. It had restored his pride.
Maybe, in a few years, when we’d gotten ourselves into a better position, I’d go back to university and have the life I’d always dreamed of. But for now, I had to accept the life we were living. I had to try and make the best of it. I had to be there for him.
I continued questioning him, though, because that was my job as his meddling, well-meaning daughter. And he just kept on reiterating that I should be praying to every God there was because they hadn’t just offered my father a position, they’d agreed to take me on, too. To do what, I had no idea. But it can’t have been much, seeing as I hadn’t even met the family or doneany form of interview. But apparently, they were happy to take us as we were.
Yes.
There were red flags flying everywhere.
