Charlottes parents gave us a wedding gift that was utterly surreala flat in London! They handed us the keys with all the proper pomp, declaring us the rightful owners. Only, the place was in a new block, so theyd actually bought it unfinished, just bare walls and concrete floors. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Wilkins, told us that since theyd secured the flat for us, it was only proper that my parents chip in for the renovations. My parents had already been generous with a considerable sum of pounds, but they agreed to help with the refurbishments, too.
After the wedding, we slipped straight into the chaos of renovation. My dad, a builder with calloused hands and a collection of odd tools, took the lead, buying supplies and overseeing works. I acted as his trusty apprentice, lugging tiles and wood, while Charlotte herself would drift in now and then, sometimes with a paintbrush stuck in her hair.
On rare occasions, Mr. Wilkins, her father, appeared with a mysterious bag of sandwiches and rolled up his sleeves. We decided not to rent out another place until the renovations were doneto save on poundsand moved in with Charlottes parents for the time being.
One drowsy afternoon, searching for a letter, I stumbled upon a folder of papers linked to our flat. Something in them shimmered strangely, making my stomach dropthe flat was actually in Mrs. Wilkins’ name.
That evening, Dad and I were meant to pick up tiles for the bathroom. Instead, I called it off, telling him about what Id found and that I needed to talk things over first.
Why does Mum own our flat? I asked Charlottes father directly at the dinner table, everyone half-lost in the flickering telly light. Why isnt it Charlottes name on the deeds?
Oh, dont be so daft! Mrs. Wilkins chirped in a singsong voice. Its just to spare our Charlottes feelings.
And what does that mean, exactly?
Well, in case you up and divorce her, you wont be able to claim half our flat! she declared, with a grin that made me feel like I was dissolving.
Your flat? Is it really right for Dad and me to be toiling away on the renovations which will end up costing us as much as half the place itself? And why are you certain well divorce? We only just got married!
Mum, I did tell you the flat should be in my name, Charlotte mumbled under her breath.
So, you knew about this? I stared at her, the edges of the room warping like a funhouse mirror.
No, you dont understand I did know, but I told Mum it had to be mine!
Oh, Charlotte, what a glorious beginning to our marriage! Starting with deception!
Its been days since I drifted back to my parents house. Charlotte tries to reach me, but it all feels like fragments from a dream I cant quite piece together. I never thought her family would pull such a sly trickthough perhaps thats just what all parents do.
Now, Im wandering these labyrinthine thoughts, wondering what on earth Im supposed to do next.
