**Diary Entry 12th October**
My aunt, Mums sister, never had children, but she did have a lovely three-bedroom flat right in the heart of London and some serious health troubles. Her late husband had been a collector, so her place was more like a museum than a home.
My younger sister, Lizzie, has a lazy husband and two kids. They rent a tiny room in a shared house. When Lizzie heard about Aunt Margarets failing health, she rushed over at oncenot to help, but to complain about her own miserable lot.
Now, I should say straightaway that Aunt Margaret is a sharp-tongued woman who never minces her words and isnt afraid to put someone in their place. For years, she invited me and my husband to move in, promising wed inherit the flat. But we had our own place and declined her “generous offer.” Still, we brought her groceries and medicines now and then, and Id tidy up for hernot for the flats sake, but out of duty.
Lizzie, though, wasted no time. Within days of that first visit, she and her family had moved in. Weve never got on, my sister and I. Shes always envied memy hardworking, loving husband, our wonderful son, my good job, decent salary, and our own home. The only time Lizzie ever called was to borrow money. Trouble is, shes got a dreadful memory when it comes to paying it back.
After I fell pregnant again, I hadnt the time to visit Aunt Margaret, though my husband still dropped off the occasional parcel of treats. When the baby was six months old, I finally went round. As I reached the door, I heard shoutingLizzies voice, sharp as a knife:
“Until you sign over the flat, youre not getting a scrap of food! Crawl back inside and stay in that doghouse tonight!”
I rang the bell. When Lizzie saw me, she blocked the door, sneering, “Dont even think about coming in. This flats mine now!”
Only when I threatened to call the police did she let me inside. Aunt Margaret had aged ten years in that short time. Tears welled in her eyes when she saw me.
“Why the waterworks?” Lizzie snapped. “Go on, tell her how happy weve made you, then send her packing. She didnt even bother bringing the baby!”
The flat was stripped bareno collectors items left, no jewellery on Aunt Margaret, just a single bed in her room. Even the wardrobe was gone, her things piled on the floor. It was clear Lizzie and her layabout husband had been selling everything they could get their hands on.
I excused myself to the loo and texted my husband: *We need to get Aunt Margaret out. Now.* Back in the room, I chatted brightly about my yearabout the baby, my jobthen squeezed her hand and whispered, “Just wait.” She understood at once.
Lizzie did everything short of dragging me out, while her husband kept hovering, asking if I wasnt overdue to leave. Exactly an hour later, my husband arrivedwith a constable from the local station in tow. Lizzie stalled at the door, but I played it cool: “Oh, thats just my husband.”
The officer was an unpleasant surprise for her, I can tell you. I led him to Aunt Margaret. “This is the victim. I heard them denying her food myself. Theyve sold her furniture, her jewelleryeverything her late husband collected.”
Between Lizzies wails, the constable asked Aunt Margaret, “Do you wish to press charges?”
Lizzie got off lightly, but her husband got two years inside. Mum took Lizzie and the kids in, despite having disowned her years before. She hasnt forgiven me for involving the police, mindswore Id get nothing from her now. But Aunt Margaret left me the flat in gratitude.
We visit her just as before, only now shes got a proper nurse. I cant bear to think what she endured under Lizzies care.
**Lesson learned:** Blood may be thicker than water, but greed poisons the well.
