When Nancy’s landlord demanded that she and her three daughters leave the rental property for a week, she thought things couldn’t get any worse. But an unexpected meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t very big, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen has peeled so badly I’ve started calling it ‘abstract art.’
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma and Sophie, create that feeling with their laughter and the little things that remind me why I work so hard.
I’ve always thought about money. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no airbag or backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we would do.
The phone rang the next day when I was hanging laundry to dry.
‘Hello?’ I answered, jamming the phone between my ear and shoulder.
‘Nancy, it’s Peterson.’
His voice made my stomach clench. ‘Oh, hello, Mr Peterson. Is everything okay?’
‘I need you out of the house for a week,’ he said as casually as if he was asking me to water his plants.
‘What?’ I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
‘My brother’s coming into town and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.’
I thought I must have misheard. ‘Wait a minute, it’s my house. We have a lease!’
‘Don’t start with the rental nonsense,’ he snapped back. ‘Remember how late you were with the rent last month? I could have kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.’
I gripped the phone tighter. ‘I was one day late,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘My daughter was sick. I explained to you…’
‘Never mind,’ he interrupted. ‘You have until Friday to leave. Leave, or you may not come back at all.’
‘Mr Peterson, please,’ I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. ‘I have nowhere else to go.’
‘Not my problem,’ he said coldly, and the connection went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’ Lily, my eldest, asked from the doorstep, her eyes full of worry.
I forced myself to smile. ‘Nothing, sweetie. Go play with your sisters.’
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I confronted Peterson, he would find an excuse to evict us permanently.
By Thursday evening, I had packed what little we could carry into several bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain to them what was going on.
‘We’re going on an adventure,’ I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
‘Is it far?’ asked Sophie, clutching Mr Floppy to her chest.
‘Not very far,’ I replied, avoiding her gaze.
The dormitory was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely enough room for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
‘Mummy, it’s noisy in here,’ Emma said, covering her ears with her hands.
‘I know, sweetie,’ I replied softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t help for long. Sophie’s little face crinkled and tears ran down her cheeks.
‘Where’s Mr Floppy?’ – She cried, breaking her voice.
My stomach cramped. In my haste, I’d forgotten about her rabbit.
‘He’s still at home,’ I said, clutching my throat.
‘I can’t sleep without him!’ Sophie sobbed, clutching at my arm.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me, whispering that everything would be okay. But I knew it wouldn’t.
That night, as Sophie cried in her sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling utterly helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Each sob was like a knife to the heart.
‘Please, Mum,’ she whispered, her voice sounding as if in a void. ‘I want Mr Floppy.’
I hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
‘I’ll catch him,’ I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked on the next street over, and my heart raced as I stared at the house. What if they wouldn’t let me in? What if Mr Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-stained face wouldn’t leave my mind.
I took a deep breath and walked to the door, Sophie’s desperate ‘please’ sounding in my ears. My knuckles hit the wood and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood before me. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
‘What can I do for you?’ – He asked with a puzzled look.
‘Hi,’ I said with a stammer. ‘Sorry to bother you, but I’m a tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny in the house, and I was hoping I could pick it up.’
He winked at me. ‘Wait. You live here?’
‘Yes,’ I said, feeling a lump forming in my throat. ‘But Mr Peterson told us we have to leave for a week because you’re staying here.’