Oh, you think youve got problems, little sis? Well, this isnt your flat to begin with.
My auntMums sisternever had kids, but she did have a gorgeous three-bedroom flat right in the heart of London and some serious health issues. Her late husband was a proper collector, so her place felt more like a museum than a home.
My younger sister, Ellie, has a lazy husband and two kids. Theyve been crammed into a tiny rented room in student housing. When Ellie caught wind of our aunts health troubles, she rushed over straight away to moan about how hard her life was.
Now, let me be clearour aunt isnt exactly the warm and fuzzy type. She doesnt mince her words and has no problem putting someone in their place. For years, she kept inviting me and my husband to move in, promising wed inherit her flat one day. But we had our own place and turned down her “generous offer.” We still drop off groceries and meds for her now and then, and I help clean her house. We do it out of duty, not because were eyeing up her square footage.
Well, after Ellies little visit, she and her lot moved in with Auntie within days. Ellie and I have never got onshes always been jealous. Ive got a hardworking, loving husband, a brilliant son, a great job, solid wages, and my own home. Ellie only ever rings me when she needs to borrow moneywhich, by the way, she never pays back.
After I got pregnant with my second, I didnt have as much time for Auntie, though my husband still brought her care packages now and then. When my baby was six months old, I finally went to see her. As soon as I got to her door, I heard shoutingmy sister screaming at Auntie:
“Until you sign that flat over, youre not getting any food. Now turn around and crawl back inside. And dont even think about leaving the doghouse tonight!”
I rang the bell. When Ellie saw me, she blocked the door and snapped, “Dont even dream of coming in! Youre not getting this flat!”
I only got inside after threatening to call the police. Auntie looked like shed aged a decade since I last saw her. When she spotted me, tears rolled down her face.
“Why are you crying? Go on, tell her how well we treat you!” Ellie barked. “See? She couldnt even be bothered to bring the baby!”
Aunties room was stripped barejust a single bed left. Even the wardrobe was gone, her things dumped on the floor. All her late husbands collectables had vanished, and she wasnt wearing any of her usual jewellery. It was obvious: Ellie and her husband were living off whatever they could flog from Aunties home.
I excused myself to the loo and texted my husband: *We need to rescue Auntie. She cant stay here.* Back in the room, I chatted away about my year, my kids, everything. When I mentioned the baby, I squeezed Aunties hand, winked, and whispered, “Just hang in there.” She understoodher eyes said it all.
Ellie kept trying to shove me out, and her useless husband kept popping in, nagging, “Shouldnt you get back to your baby?”
Exactly an hour later, my husband turned upwith a police officer in tow. Ellie wasnt thrilled about opening the door. I played it cool: “Oh, thats just my husband here to pick me up.”
The copper was a nasty shock for Ellie and her layabout husband. I brought him in and said, “See for yourselfthis is the victim. I heard them starving her. Theyve sold off her furniture, jewellery, everything. Her late husbands collection was worth a fortune.”
Between Ellies wailing, the officer asked Auntie, “Do you want to press charges?”
Ellie got off lightly, but her husband got two years inside. Mum took Ellie and the kids ineven though shed kicked them out years ago. Shes furious at me for involving the police and swears Ill never inherit a thing from her. Jokes on her thoughAuntie left me the flat in her will as thanks for saving her.
Now, me and my husband visit Auntie like we used to, and weve even hired her a carer. I cant even imagine what she went through living with Ellie. Disgraceful.
