We Are Not Forgotten

chapter three.

The problem with living in a council estate flat was that the landlord was never bothered about banging on the door in the morning and demanding the rent. Of course he didn’t care that I had a five year old sleeping the next room because all he cared about is getting his grubby little hands on my limited amount of money. He was a putrid, little man as well; he never spared any sympathy for the poor families who live the flats. If they didn’t have any money for him then he wasted no time in throwing them out on the street. It was a harsh reality but one I had learnt to live with.

However as I stumbled awkwardly towards the door, I soon realised that I really didn’t have the money to give him. Now that I was on my own and still without a job, I had to survive on benefits which I hated doing. I knew it wasn’t a good way to live because I felt that everyone should have to earn their money. But unless Gabi and I wanted to go without food or basic necessities for a week then I literally couldn’t afford to pay him and I gulped painfully due to this revelation and went to open the door of the flat.

  

"Mr Humphries, how can I help you?" I queried in a patronising voice, obviously knowing his reason for banging on my door so early. I had to squint in order to look at him because the bright, morning sunlight was blinding me as my eyes hadn’t fully adjusted yet.

  

However I don’t think he was very pleased by my tone and spat in a an aggressive tone,

“You know bloody well why I’m here, have you got the rent money or not?!”

I grimaced slightly, quite worried what he would do when I told him that I didn’t have it. I begged that he wouldn’t throw us out because there was absolutely no way I could afford any other place to stay and I certainly wasn’t dragging my daughter out on the streets. That would be my definition of a nightmare. I suddenly pictured a vivid image of Gabi and I strolling around outside dressed in tramps clothing and begging for money. I mentally laughed at the ridiculousness of that situation and shook my head slightly.

I then gazed back up at Mr Humphries who I was yet to give an answer to and dreading having to do it, but I soon managed to pluck up the courage because I knew it was better to get it over and done with.

"I don’t exactly have it at the moment…" I admitted in a mumbled tone. I shifted my weight uncomfortably between each leg, fiddling with my fingers anxiously. I knew he would not be kind to me due to the fact that I had once called him an arrogant tosser and he had threatened to kick me out. Since then he had held a pretty evident grudge against me so I knew I had to be as polite as possible in order to maintain our home here.

“Well, you better find it quickly or you and your little brat child will be out of here” he declared warningly, narrowing his eyes at me in a serious manner. The rage inside me began to bubble when I heard him refer to Gabi as a brat but I didn’t make this noticeable to him.

He held power over me than I was very much aware of and if I so much as made a remark in return, he would want me kicked out.

  

“You have one week.” He snarled before swivelling around and making his way to the next unsuspecting victim in the flat opposite. I shut the door with a little more aggression than I should have and ran my hand down my face in annoyance.

How was I going to find enough money for the rent in just one week? It was going to difficult but I suppose I was used to by now. Life had never been an easy one for me, what with my mum dying when I was nine and my dad basically disowning when I got pregnant. I had pretty much learnt how to survive independently; although I was used to having Wilf alongside me.