My father grew up in Southampton with a mother and father who doted on him; he was, by every definition, the prodigal son.
He could do no wrong and when he married my mother, he bullied her and she ended up having a nervous breakdown, so bad that the idea of children was long delayed.
When I was growing up, I could see that my mother was walking on eggshells. If the Sunday lunch was late, he would argue with her, if the roast potatoes were not done in time, she would be admonished.
I can remember that my father always brought his food in first and started eating with absolutely no concern for anyone else. Every time, Mum would then bring in my brother’s and my lunches. When I was still quite young, I did started eating too but one day, when my father shouted at me to start eating, I said no. He bellowed at me but I would not start to eat until my mother had sat down and started to eat. He then took it out of my Mum.
My father was a fossil and treated my darling Mum and Verity’s later Nana as a mere slave.
My father has always controlled everything and still does. I am 56 and he still controls my life whilst showering his prodigal son with millions. Everyone knows that he was behind my arrest and later, when that failed, my attempted bribery.
He has left me imprisoned on this island and if I kick up anymore stick, he will get me put away in a mental institution for life and he will have my brother, sister-in-law, cousin, Verity’s mother and maybe even Verity to support him.
But, I will have the last laugh. I am disinterested in their piles of money and games but only what I am entitled to. Whether I am incarcerated or not, I will not be long there, because I will be finally with the people who have always loved me; my life is now very short.