When Mr Big I Am’s house was re-mortgaged to include Laura on the deeds, Mr Big I Am organised life assurance policies on Laura’s and his longevity, I questioned that. I was not happy that he had waged her life to end.
I did not trust The Big I Am with, his swagger and superior attitude. I did not like him.
I would visit Laura during the day when Mr Big I Am was not home.
The house was pristine, an employed cleaner saw to that.
All furniture, wall hangings, cream carpets (shoes off at the door) were his. Laura owned one glass bowl which was on display. He liked the bowl it was a designer one.
Laura was not relaxed in this house. The house had not welcomed her, not made itself her home.
My daughter and I perched on the edge of the cream leather chairs in that house, chatted about this and that. But, there was something in the air, something undiscovered.
I could taste it. I could feel it. I wished that she had used her deposit and purchased her own place.