Step by step
Emily and James were a young couple: she was twentyseven, he thirtyone. They had lived together a little over a year, renting a onebedroom flat on the outskirts of a large English city. Emily worked in the accounts department of a small firm, James was a remoteworking software developer. In the evenings they talked about their plans replacing the old sofa, doing a modest makeover, finally taking a summer break by the sea. Their salaries covered daily expenses and they managed to set aside a little, but any big purchase kept being pushed further down the list.
At the start of March they decided to apply for a personal loan modest enough not to feel crushing, but sufficient for their aims. The decision wasnt easy; both were used to relying solely on themselves and avoiding debt. Still, the desire grew as time went on.
One weekday after lunch they walked into the bank branch a short walk from their flat. Outside, construction workers in bright vests bustled past, the pavement was slick with a mix of melted snow and rain, the asphalt still dark from the thaw. A chill hung in the air, the wind slipped under their jackets and the daylight was already fading despite it still being early evening.
Inside, customers sat on plastic chairs lined up against the wall. An electronic queue board flashed red numbers, while staff behind glass partitions clicked mice and typed rapidly.
Emily clutched the folder of documents tighter than usual passports and a income statement sat on top. They exchanged a nervous glance.
Now well find out, she whispered to James. The important thing is not to miss anything.
A young manager with neatly tied back hair and a slightly faded bank badge called them over. After discussing the loan amount and repayment period, she pulled a stack of papers from a drawer.
For the loan to be approved youll need to add life cover, she said in her usual tone. Its a compulsory condition for all individual customers.
James frowned.
What if we refuse? We dont want the cover
The manager gave a tired smile.
Unfortunately thats not an option, she replied. Without cover the bank cant approve the application. All our clients take the full protection package when they take a loan.
The couple looked at each other; there was nothing to argue about no one had warned them about this detail on the website or over the phone.
They tried to probe further.
We read somewhere could we choose a different plan?
The manager shook her head.
This is the only option on our tariff, she said firmly. If you want a decision today
The words hung like a heavy weight: accept now or waste time looking elsewhere and who knows if another bank would impose the same requirement?
The paperwork was signed quickly, each page passed almost silently for a signature; the insurance contract appeared as a separate stack among the other documents. As Emily signed the final clause on life cover, still not fully grasping the legal phrasing, irritation mixed with annoyance rose inside her it seemed adults should be better at this sort of thing.
When they left the bank, darkness fell faster than they liked for a March evening: streetlights reflected in puddles, pedestrians hurried past, bundling up against the cold.
James walked in silence as they headed home through the courtyard between the grim tower blocks. At his flat he ripped off his jacket and flung it onto a chair so abruptly it almost hit the floor.
Emily set the kettle on, the flat humming with the low rumble of radiators. She walked to the window, wiped the fogged glass with a fingertip, noting the lingering condensation from the days dampness.
James came close, slipped his arm around her shoulders and rested his forehead against her temple the same quiet intimacy they used when they needed to think out loud together without actually saying anything concrete. It felt a little easier now because both felt cheated, even though they had acted just as many other grownups around them do.
Later that evening, when dinner was nearly ready and the television muttered the news in the background, Emily opened her laptop, logged onto the banks website and tried to read the contract again. This time she spotted a tinyprint link about a refund of the insurance premium if claimed in time.
She typed loan insurance refund into a search engine and was met with dozens of articles, forum threads and discussion boards some recent, some old. Some users advised seeing the process through to the end, others complained that banks always find a way to say no.
James sat beside her, rested his elbow on her shoulder, glanced over the screen and pointed to a paragraph that mentioned a coolingoff period: fourteen days after signing you can get the money back, even if the service was forced upon you.
They began to read the relevant statutes carefully, jotting down the names of the regulations, copying sample complaint letters, saving everything in a separate folder and sending links to each other via messenger so they could review them again in the morning fearing they might miss a crucial detail or phrase. Their only legal experience so far had been everyday agreements like renting a flat or buying tickets online, where everything was simple: a green button meant payment succeeded. Here they had to master every nuance themselves, otherwise the chance of a refund seemed like a mirage, despite the confidence of online legal advisors promising success if the proper steps were followed.
Near midnight, exhausted but still angry, they decided to draft the complaint themselves, matching each sentence to a template they found on the Financial Ombudsman Service website.
James typed slowly, often deleting whole paragraphs sometimes it sounded too emotional, other times too sterile, as if a robot were writing instead of a real person. He wanted the banker to understand why this mattered to a family simply seeking fairness, even if the sum was modest; the principle, after all, mattered more than the amount.
Emily checked spelling, hunted for typos, inserted the needed hyperlinks, quoted the law, highlighted key deadlines fourteen calendar days, ten working days for a response, the right to approach the Financial Conduct Authority if the bank refused or breached regulations.
When the draft was ready they printed it twice, attaching one copy to a photocopy of the loan agreement, keeping the other for themselves, photographing every page with their phone and exchanging the files, so nothing could be lost. The next day they planned to go in person to the branchs reception desk, thinking that a stamped receipt and a written acknowledgment would leave no room for doubt.
The following morning the weather turned sour: wind gusted, loose, dirty snow lay in drifts along the curb. Their shoes soaked quickly as they trudged to the bus stop. The bus arrived shortly; inside it smelled of damp rubber, the seats were sticky and some were peeling. Yet their spirits stayed upbeat the important thing was that a step had been taken, now they just had to see it through. After all, why start a fight over a few hundred pounds that seemed trivial to anyone else?
At the bank the staff accepted the documents, gave them a receipt for the submission and asked them to wait ten days for a reply. The employees remained courteous, as if such complaints were a regular occurrence. After a week an official response arrived: a refusal to refund the premium. The reason was given in generic terms the service had been provided correctly, there was no basis to deem the insurance forced, the decision was final and the bank had no right to revisit it.
The letter felt cold, almost humiliating, as if the couple were just another statistic in a register of complainants, destined to wait for fate while meekly accepting whatever the powers that be decided. Yet that moment became a turning point: it was clear they would have to keep fighting, otherwise their selfrespect would vanish completely.
Emily and James sat in silence for a few minutes, the banks letter lying on the table, its formal language seeming to block any chance of change. But irritation gave way to stubbornness they were not going to give up. That evening, as the streetlights painted wet pavement with amber glows, they turned back to their laptops.
James opened a forum where people shared similar stories: some cursed endless bank rejections, others urged an immediate appeal to the regulator. Emily read a guide on the Bank of Englands website about insurance refunds it laid out the steps: a copy of the contract, a detailed complaint, bank details for the refund.
They printed a new version of the complaint, this time addressed to the regulator as well as the bank. The text detailed how the manager had insisted on mandatory cover, how the bank ignored their request for an alternative, and why they considered the practice unlawful. James attached a scanned copy of the banks denial.
They submitted the complaint simultaneously to the Financial Ombudsman Service and to the Financial Conduct Authority via the online forms, uploading all documents and doublechecking dates and amounts. Before hitting send, both felt a mix of nerves and fatigue: it seemed a tiny grievance to the system, yet the bureaucracy they had to wade through felt enormous.
A reply was promised within ten days; the couple tried not to build too many expectations. The days stretched on, work ate most of their hours, evenings boiled down to short chats about the news or household chores.
Sometimes they revisited the case in their minds had they misfiled something, missed a deadline? Each time they found confirmation that they had followed the rules: they kept the receipt of submission, screenshots of the sent forms, all stored in a separate folder alongside the banks letters.
A week later the weather cleared sidewalks dried faster than usual for March. People in the courtyard shed their scarves, and the first puddles turned into shallow rivulets.
One such day an email arrived in Emilys inbox: the regulators letter was brief but decisive after reviewing the complaint together with the insurer, the bank was ordered to return the full insurance premium in accordance with consumerrights legislation.
Emily called James over, they read the text aloud a few times to be sure they werent misinterpreting it. A sense of triumph mixed with a hint of disbelief washed over them: weeks of effort for fairness had finally paid off.
A couple of days later the refund landed in the account they had indicated, exactly the amount shown in the contract, the same figure they had debated over when they first decided to push the bank.
That evening the flat smelled of fresh bread Emily had bought a baguette on the way home, steam rose from the teacups. They finally talked about the whole ordeal calmly, without anger or anxiety.
I thought honestly, wed get nowhere, James admitted. But it turns out you can do it yourself if youre thorough.
Yes, Emily replied slowly. The key is not to quit halfway otherwise youll find it harder to respect yourself than to argue with a bank.
She smiled, tired but confident; for the first time in weeks she felt stronger, even if the returned sum was modest compared to their yearly expenses.
The next morning both worked from home sunlight streamed through the windows despite earlyspring clouds. Outside, rain drummed on the roof while street cleaners cleared the last bits of snow from the curbs, shouting to each other as children rode bicycles through puddles without gloves for the first time since winter.
James stepped out for a breath of fresh air, returned and noticed how the atmosphere at home had shifted over the weeks of struggle: no more irritation or helplessness, just a calm certainty that any tough question could be tackled, step by step, even when it seemed the world was against you.
Later, as the sun slipped behind a neighbours roof, its light fell in a stripe across the desk where the stack of papers loan agreement, complaint, receipts had once sat. Now the pile was neatly stored away, ready should anyone else need a guide on how to act if they find themselves in a similar bind. The memory of the experience would stay as a quiet reminder that a way out always exists, even when it feels there isnt.
