What 20 Years Working in Domestic Couple Jobs in London and Kent Taught Us

After thirteen years of working at domestic couple jobs in London, my wife Kirsten and I found our next live-in role in 2016 as a live-in domestic couple in Kent at a historic stately home for an elderly gentleman whose wife had dementia. Like all live-in roles, the job came with accommodation, and ours was a two-bedroom cottage on the estate, just metres from the main house.

Kirsten worked as the housekeeper and cook, while my responsibilities focused on maintenance tasks typical of a large private house. At first, it seemed ideal—the work was rewarding, the other live-in staff were welcoming, and we enjoyed it. Not long after we joined, I was promoted to estate manager, a role that came with greater responsibilities. However, beneath the surface, challenges soon began to emerge.

Having worked in many households over the previous thirteen years, we were no strangers to the challenges of domestic couple jobs. But this was different. It changed how we viewed live-in roles.

As the boss’s wife’s dementia progressed, Kirsten’s job changed dramatically. She was suddenly expected to take on complex and personal caregiving responsibilities—a role she was neither hired nor fully trained for. Although Kirsten had trained as a nurse at Johannesburg General, the complexities of dementia care required highly specialised training that she did not have.

The boss insisted that he and Kirsten could handle his wife's care. He demanded that his wife practise walking upright without shuffling, repeatedly making her pace up and down the corridor until he decided she had "got it right." His expectations grew increasingly unrealistic and cruel, and when his wife could no longer do as he said, his frustration turned physically violent, undeterred by the presence of household staff.

Eventually, the situation became untenable. After we threatened to leave, the boss reluctantly agreed to hire a live-in carer. However, rather than going through a proper care agency, he chose to advertise privately—an approach that seemed to have a darker purpose.

In the UK, care agencies providing domiciliary care must register with the Care Quality Commission (CQC) and adhere to its strict standards. Care agency staff are provided with professional oversight, training, and a support network, ensuring they have someone to report to if issues arise. By bypassing these safeguards, the boss retained total control over the carer’s employment, leaving them without external support or accountability.

Instead, carers we recruited came through private advertisements. This left them without external support or professional advocacy, placing them entirely under the control of the boss. His unreasonable demands persisted and worsened. He imposed rigid schedules on carers, requiring his wife to be bathed, dressed, and seated at breakfast by 8:30 a.m., despite her severe dementia and disrupted sleep patterns. Carers worked all night trying to appease him, just to keep the peace.

The turning point came when a caregiver, overwhelmed by escalating domestic violence, contacted the police. This led to the involvement of the local authorities’ Adult Safeguarding team, whose investigation highlighted the severity of the situation. One outcome was the confiscation of firearms from the estate—a stark indicator of how unsafe the environment had become.

It was clear Kirsten could no longer stay. We had endured this far because our home was tied to our job, but we could not go on. Kirsten left to work for a more supportive employer in a nearby village as a live-out housekeeper and nanny, a role she still holds today.

The boss and his two sons, both directors of the estate, encouraged me to remain. His wife was moved to a care home for her safety, where she passed away a year later. The younger son admitted in an email to his father: “Your team were not qualified to provide 24-hour care.”

That email, along with the verbal support of the elder son and his wife, gave me hope that the family would act responsibly when their father needed professional care himself one day. However, despite these reassurances, they failed to address the growing issues. When the boss himself developed dementia, the same coercive patterns re-emerged—this time under the younger son’s watch.

In July 2023, under mounting pressure, the elder son acknowledged the need for 24-hour professional care. However, the younger son refused to allow their father’s money to be spent on qualified carers. Once again, the burden of care fell to untrained household staff.

Watching this unfold revealed a troubling pattern within the household: the coercion of unqualified live-in domestic staff, such as housekeepers and gardeners, into caregiving roles. The young son’s behaviour mirrored his father’s, reinforcing a culture where live-in staff are expected to endure far more than employees in other sectors. Unlike other types of work, live-in roles often lack the protections afforded by the Working Time Regulations, leaving workers vulnerable to exploitation and burnout.

For these staff, the fear of speaking out is compounded by the fact that their accommodation is tied to their employment. This unique dependency creates a precarious situation, forcing staff to accept unreasonable demands and abusive practices in silence, often at the expense of their health and well-being.

For two years, I had refused over £10,000 in year-end bonuses in protest of the exploitation of staff. I had pleaded with the family for help on many occasions. But in early 2024, I was dismissed, allegedly for being “toxic.” My dismissal followed my repeated attempts to raise concerns about health and safety, financial irregularities, and the mistreatment of staff. I reported these issues to social services and challenged what I saw as the prioritisation of inheritance over proper care for the boss—something the elder son agreed with me about yet did nothing about.

The Cost of an Employment Tribunal

I believe my dismissal was retaliatory for my whistleblowing, but this can only be determined by an impartial tribunal in July 2025. I also believe my case is in the public interest, and I hope our story will inspire change, ensuring others do not endure what we have.

Preparing for an employment tribunal has cost me £20,000 in solicitors’ fees, with another £15,000 expected for barrister representation. Such costs make justice unattainable for many domestic staff, especially when facing wealthy employers with resources they cannot match. This, together with non-disclosure agreements, creates an uneven playing field where legal intimidation deters workers from pursuing justice. We are determined to change this.

Today, Kirsten and I have moved on. She still works for the family in Sevenoaks, while I advocate for fairer practices in the domestic staffing sector.

A Call for Change: Advocating for Fairer Standards in Live-in Jobs for Couples

Our experience is only one example that highlights the urgent need for professional standards, clear boundaries, and renewed discussions around the exclusion of live-in household staff from working time regulations. Without these safeguards, live-in staff and vulnerable elderly employers remain at risk of exploitation and harm.

If you want to join the fight for justice or share your experiences, please contact us at craig@jobs4couples.co.uk. Together, we can expose unethical practices and create a fairer, safer industry for all.

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