**Friday, 12th May**
I shoved the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and switched it to the quick cycle. Dinner had gone wellJames wolfed down my shepherds pie like he always does. Even Emily, who usually turns her nose up at anything I cook (that prats wife, she calls me behind my back), helped herself to seconds.
Popping off for a shower, James called from the hall. Got footie with the lads tomorrowneed an early night.
Go on then, I waved him off, wiping down the counter.
Emily was sprawled on the sofa, glued to her phone. Shed turned up the night beforeunannounced, as usualwith a haul of shopping bags and that sour look she always wore. Just for the weekend, shed said. Always just for the weekend.
Fancy a cuppa? I asked, poking my head into the lounge.
No, she snapped, not glancing up.
I shrugged and went back to the kitchen. Three years of marriage had taught me not to rise to her digs. James always said, Ems just prickly, love. Dont take it to heart.
The shower hissed to life upstairs. I flicked the kettle on and reached for my favourite mug. Then I heard Emilys voice, low but clear in the quiet flat:
Mum? Yeah, Im at theirs No, shes cooked her usual rubbish Listen, I spoke to the solicitor.
I froze, mug in hand. She dropped her voice, but every word carried.
Yes, through the courts Since Gran left the flat to James alone, not both of them No, that daft cow hasnt a clue she can be taken off the deed Jamesll sign anything if you word it right
The mug slipped from my fingers and smashed on the tiles.
What was that? Emilys voice sharpened.
Dropped a mug, I managed, ice flooding my veins.
The flatour three-bed in Kensington, a wedding gift from his gran. For you both, shed said. And now this snake was scheming to have me booted out?
Hopeless, Emily appeared in the doorway. Butterfingers, arent you?
Sorry, I bent to pick up the pieces, glad she couldnt see my face.
Use the dustpan, for Gods sake.
My hands shook as I fetched it.
Whyre you trembling? Emily narrowed her eyes. Its just a mug.
Startled me, thats all, I lied.
Course it did. Delicate little thing, she sneered, flouncing back to the sofa.
One thought spun in my head: *They want me out. Thats why shes here.*
James came down, humming.
Broke a mug? He grinned. No matterweve got stacks.
Yeah, I forced a smile.
He kissed my head and wandered off to bed.
I didnt sleep a wink. James snored while I stared at the ceiling. Tell him? He adored Emily, always took her side. Complain to his mum? She was clearly in on itnever warm to me, though she hid it well.
*Ill have to sort this myself,* I decided by dawn. But how?
Next morning, I tiptoed to the kitchen, hands trembling so badly I missed the sugar bowl twice.
Right. Think, I muttered.
My eyes landed on a solicitors card pinned to the fridgeMr. Thompson had helped the neighbour with a property dispute. I grabbed my phone.
Morning! Is this Mr. Thompson? Its Sophie WhitmoreMrs. Higgins neighbour. I kept my voice low, eyes on the door.
I need advice urgently. Today? One oclock? Brilliant.
James shuffled in, pillow crease on his cheek.
Youre up early, he murmured, kissing me.
Couldnt sleep. James, Im seeing a friend todayLucy. Ages since we caught up.
Lucy who?
From uni, I blurted.
Righto. Im taking Em to the picturesshe asked last night.
*Of course she did,* I thought.
The solicitors office smelled of coffee and leather. Mr. Thompson, a balding bloke in wire-frames, listened intently.
So the flat was a gift from your husbands gran Are you on the deeds?
Registered, yesright after we married.
And whose names on the title?
Pardon?
The ownership papers. Deed of gift? Will?
I blinked. James handled all that.
He sighed. First, find out who legally owns it. If its just him, youve a problem. If its joint, his sister cant touch you.
How?
Get a title register from the Land Registry. Today.
I came home with a plan. Emilys heels tripped me in the hall.
There you are! she crowed from the kitchen. We wondered where youd got to.
With a friend, I kept my voice even.
James took me to the cinema, she smirked. Still loves those daft action films.
I nodded, slipping past. In the bedroom, I closed the door and pulled out my phone. Found the Land Registry site, ordered the document. Paid. Now to wait.
That night, with James asleep and Emily in the spare room, I checked my email. The register had arrived. My hands shook as I opened it.
*Proprietor: James Edward Whitmore.*
I gasped. Emily was rightlegally, the flat was his alone. Fear curdled into anger. *Not bloody likely.*
Next morning, I rang Mr. Thompson.
Listen carefully, he cut in. Have you been registered there over three years?
Nearly.
Good. That gives you occupancy rights. Plus, anything bought during marriagefurniture, appliancesis joint. If youve proof you paid for renovations
I kept all the receipts!
Then youve a strong case. Gather everything. And dont sign *anything* they give you.
Ta.
Sophie you should tell your husband.
I sighed. Doubt hell take my side.
For two days, I walked on eggshells. Smiled, cooked, played the dutiful wife. Meanwhile, I gathered evidence: receipts, bank transfers, our prenup stating joint assets.
On Monday, Emily announced she was staying another week.
Got sudden leave, she simpered at James. You wont chuck your own sister out, eh?
Stay as long as you like! he laughed.
I bit my tongue.
That evening, I overheard her again:
Mum, its all sorted Yes, Ill stay No, the idiot suspects nothing Papers are nearly ready Jamesll sign, hes no choice
My blood boiled. *Not if I have anything to say about it.*
Next day, I took leave and went to the notary. Then the Land Registry. By evening, I had a fat folder and a plan.
Love, why dont we have your parents round this weekend? I asked casually over dinner.
Emilys head jerked up.
Smashing idea! James beamed. Em, Mumll be chuffed youre here too.
Lovely, Emily muttered.
Saturday, I cooked like my life depended on it. Roast beef, Yorkshire puds, treacle tartthe works. *Last supper,* I thought grimly, chopping parsley.
By six, the table groaned. His parents arrivedCharles and Margaret. His mum gave me her usual once-over.
You look well, dear, she said, faux sweet.
Ta, I smiled back.
Once wed all tucked in, James raised his glass:
To family!
To family, I echoed.
Emily caught my eye and smirked. *Just you wait.*
Actually, I said loudly, theres something we need to discuss.
All eyes turned.
James, I overheard Emily and your mum plotting.
Silence. Emily went white.
What? James frowned.
Theyre planning to convince you to transfer the flat into your name only. Kick me out.
Rubbish! Margaret spluttered. James, shes hysterical!
Soph, whats this about?
I heard every word, I said calmly. Emily said, That daft cow hasnt a clue, and youd sign anything if they worded it right.
Emily shot up. You eavesdropped?!
Overheard while cleaning. But the point is, you want me *out*.
*Your* home? Margaret scoffed. The flats James! His gran left it to *him*!
Love, this is mad, James took my hand.
Here. I slid the folder across. Everything
