There was an issue for Laura in returning to the thrust of life, returning to the normal world.
She owed a lot of money. Twenty thousand pounds to be exact.
Husband and I were not going to mop up this debt, not this time.
I worried about the amount she owed, worried about the effect it would have on her state of mind. When she came out of rehab, finding her feet, finding the money to pay back her debt.
There was an option put before Laura by the finance guy at rehab: declare bankruptcy.
If banks are willing, stupid enough, to carry on lending to the likes of my daughter, huge amounts of money with her history of debt – well, they had it coming.
Laura and I visited a solicitor in the city. Laura had a case. A court date was arranged. I accompanied Laura to court. We handed our bags over to security, walked through the hooded detector.
We sat in a room among others, all filing bankruptcy.
I waggled my head from side to side.
‘What’s up?’ Laura asked.
‘Some of the places you bring me to.’
We sat quietly waiting for her name to be called. Laura was declared bankrupt and given a case number as proof for money chasers.
We headed out into the winter air, into the city, with its shiny inviting shops, their twinkling lights of warmth. Laura stomped ahead of me because I would not buy what she desired, I would not go shopping.
Laura was invited to purchase her only asset, her car, from the court. The car was deemed necessary to travel to and from work.
Guess who paid for that?
Husband and I.
addictchild 