I was living the dream, although I didn\u2019t know it back then. Detached house, two children in public school, a husband with a well-paid job, two cars, flying off to exotic places every summer and skiing in the winter. How things can change within a few months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My so-called friends wouldn\u2019t recognise me now, let alone cross the street to talk to me. It\u2019s the kids who have lost the most though, I realise that. What with their father committing suicide, our house repossessed, having to leave the school they loved. I keep on thinking back, trying to remember if Clive had been acting differently for the last six months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
They said that he had been embezzling funds from elderly people\u2019s accounts. The bank\u2019s fraud team had been watching him for months. Once he realised they were on to him, he hung himself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our bank accounts were frozen, while the investigations were going on. It was a nightmare applying for Universal Credit so I could feed the children. Everyone I thought I could have called upon for help disappeared into the woodwork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So here we are, living a very different life in a two bedroomed-terraced council house. The food bank has been a godsend. The kids attend the local school, I\u2019m surprised they have adapted so well after all they have been through. It seems that having had a criminal as a father is a feather in your cap around here. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My sister still writes of course, but she won\u2019t visit. She makes sure that the kids have presents and cards on their birthdays and at Christmas. We have become the black sheep of our family. My parents pretend that I don\u2019t exist, and Clive\u2019s parents blame me for his death, telling me I bled him dry with all my needs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I struggle to find yet another coin for the electricity meter, there\u2019s a knock on the door. My next-door neighbour, an elderly lady recently widowed, asks if I\u2019d like to come over for a cuppa. I know she\u2019s lonely, so I accept. Before I know it, I\u2019ve told her everything. She envelops me in a huge hug and comforts me as I sob onto her shoulder. I am relieved to have spoken to someone about my feelings. As I leave she insists I take the rest of the cake for the children. I feel that I have made a real friend. She shouts after me as I put the key in my front door,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPlease say that you will all come over for Sunday Dinner?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I smile for the first time in a long while and turn and say, \u201cWe would love to.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was living the dream, although I didn\u2019t know it back then. Detached house, two children in public school, a husband with a well-paid job, two cars, flying off to exotic places every summer and skiing in the winter. How things can change within a few months. My so-called friends wouldn\u2019t recognise me now, let […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"A new short story from Swansea Writers: \"A different life\"\n\n#flashfiction","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[121,3],"tags":[344,345],"class_list":["post-634","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-121","category-november","tag-different","tag-life"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-ae","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=634"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":635,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634\/revisions\/635"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=634"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=634"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=634"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}