“My Sister Changed the Locks and Kicked Me Out”
“Harriet, darling, when are you finally going to make up your mind?” Marina fiddled nervously with the edge of the tablecloth as she sat at the kitchen table. “The estate agents have called me three times this week. The buyers are seriouscash in hand.”
Harriet stirred sugar into her tea without looking up. The teaspoon clinked monotonously against the glass, grating on the nerves.
“Are you even listening?” Marina raised her voice. “Or are you going to pretend this has nothing to do with you?”
“It does,” Harriet murmured. “Very much so. But the decision is yours, not mine.”
Marina sighed, rubbing her temples. Since the divorce, life had been turned upside down. Child support payments were irregular, she was juggling two jobs, and now their mother had left them the two-bed flatshared between the two sisters.
“Harriet, I need the money urgently. Car payments, Dannys university tutors, bills… And what do you suggest? Sitting in this old flat until we retire?”
Harriet finally looked up. Her eyes held a weariness so deep it made Marina shiver.
“And where am I supposed to go, Marina? At least you have a job, a salary. Ive been made redundant for six months. Try finding decent work at forty-five.”
“Then look harder! Dont just sit around like a wet blanket!” Marina snapped. “Mum loved us both equally. The flats half yours. We sell, split the money, and each of us figures things out.”
Harriet stood and walked to the window. The courtyard shed known since childhood, the square where theyd played hopscotch, the old bench where their mother used to sit in the evenings…
“Remember,” she said softly, “what Mum said in hospital before she died? She held my hand and told me, ‘Harriet, youre the homebody. You need this flat more. Marinas strong, shell manage anywhere, but you…'”
“That was the morphine talking!” Marina cut in sharply. “No will was lefteverythings to be split legally.”
“I know. Thats why Im not arguing,” Harriet said tiredly.
Marina watched her sister and felt resentment boil inside her. It had always been this wayHarriet quiet, passive, while all the burdens fell on *her* shoulders. At school, shed defended Harriet from bullies. When Harriet failed university, Marina had pulled strings to get her a job. A bad marriage? Straight back to her sister for comfort.
“Fine,” Marina said abruptly. “Youve got a month. Find a job, rent a placegood. If not, we sell. I cant wait any longer.”
Harriet nodded without turning around.
The month flew by. Harriet went to interviews, answered ads, but employers wanted youth, energy, computer skills. Her experience was outdatedtwenty years in a design firm that had long since closed.
“Well?” Marina asked the moment she stepped through the door.
“Nothing yet,” Harriet sighed. “But theres a library job tomorrow”
“Thats it!” Marina slammed her hand on the table. “Were signing the sale papers tomorrow. The buyers have already put down a deposit.”
Harriet paled.
“Marina, just a little longer. Maybe something will”
“No. Its decided.” Marina pulled documents from her bag. “Ten tomorrow at the solicitors. Dont even think of not showing upthey need your signature.”
That night, Harriet didnt sleep. She wandered the flat, touching familiar things, studying old photos. Her whole life was hereevery corner held memories. And tomorrow…
In the morning, Marina left for work with a curt, “Ill be back at nine. Well go together.”
Harriet was sitting with a cold cup of tea when the doorbell rang. Their neighbour, Mrs. Wilkins, stood there.
“Harriet, love,” the older woman said, “whys Marina changing the locks? A locksmith came earlier. Said the owner ordered it.”
Harriets heart lurched. She rushed to the doorher key didnt fit. The new lock gleamed mockingly.
Marinas phone went unanswered. Harriet dialled again and again, hearing only the endless ring.
“Mrs. Wilkins,” she asked, voice trembling, “could I use your phone? Maybe shell answer your landline.”
“Of course, dear.”
Marina picked up on the third ring.
“Yes?” Her tone was brisk, cold.
“Marina, its me. Whats with the locks?”
“Oh, Harriet. Yes, I changed them. Youre living in *my* flat now. *Mine.* And I decide who stays.”
“How is it yours? Its half mine!”
“It *was* shared. Now its mine. The papers are signedI forged your signature. Our handwritings similar, remember? You used to do my schoolwork.”
The ground seemed to drop beneath Harriet.
“Youyou cant do this! Its fraud! Ill take you to court!”
“Go ahead,” Marina said indifferently. “Youve no proof. The solicitors a friend, the buyers connected. You werent even thereno witnesses. Whod believe Id forge my own sisters signature?”
“How could you, Marina? Were sisters! Same blood!”
“Thats why I put up with you so long. But no more. I need money, not dead weight.”
“Where am I supposed to live? What do I do?”
“Figure it out. Youre an adult.”
The line went dead. Harriet stood in the hallway, numb. Mrs. Wilkins touched her shoulder gently.
“Dear, whats happened?”
Between sobs, Harriet explained. Mrs. Wilkins shook her head, tutting.
“Lord, whats the world come to? Throwing out your own sister… Dont worry, Harriet, youll stay with me tonight. Well sort something.”
Harriet stayed three days. Marina never called, never asked if she was all rightas if shed ceased to exist.
On the fourth day, Mrs. Wilkins bustled in, beaming.
“Harriet! Remember Mrs. Henderson from flat ten? Her daughters back from America, taking her to live there. The flats for sale, but until the paperworks done, someone needs to house-sit. Pay the utilities, keep things tidy. What do you say?”
It was salvation. Harriet hugged her.
“Dont get too comfortable,” Mrs. Wilkins warned. “Find work, stand on your own feet. No slacking.”
Harriet nodded fervently. She wanted to livedesperately.
Mrs. Hendersons flat was spacious, bright. The elderly woman showed her where everything washow to water the plants, when to give the cat its medicine.
“I dont know you, dear,” Mrs. Henderson admitted, “but Mrs. Wilkins vouched for you. And if *she* trusts you, thats good enough for me.”
That evening, Harriet sat in the unfamiliar kitchen, sipping tea. A sitcom played on the telly, the cat purred on the windowsill, rain pattered softly outside. For the first time in ages, she felt at peace.
The doorbell made her jump.
Marina stood there, dishevelled, her coat dripping.
“Can I come in?”
Harriet stepped aside silently.
Marina walked to the kitchen, sat down.
“Youve landed nicely,” she said, glancing around. “Better than our old place.”
“Its temporary,” Harriet said quietly.
“I know. Mrs. Wilkins told me.”
They sat in silence. Marina twisted her handbag strap; Harriet studied the tablecloth.
“Dannys ill,” Marina blurted. “Pneumonia. Hes in hospital.”
Harriet looked up.
“What do the doctors say?”
“Its bad. Expensive medication, treatments…” Marinas voice shook. “The flat moneys gone. Sold the car, everything.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I dont know,” Marina admitted. “Maybe I wanted you to know where the money went. Not on clothes or holidays.”
Harriet stood, filled the kettle.
“Tea?”
Marina nodded.
They drank in silence. Marina kept glancing at her sister, as if wrestling with words.
“Harriet,” she finally said, “I know what I did was awful. Im not making excuses. But I didnt know what else to do. I was cornered.”
“You couldve talked to me. Explained. Id have understood.”
“Really?” Marina said doubtfully. “Remember how you reacted every time I mentioned selling? Like I was trying to destroy you.”
“Maybe. But forgery is a crime, Marina.”
“I know. I think about it every night. Especially now, with Danny…” She trailed off, turning to the window.
Harriet watched her, the anger ebbing away, leaving only emptiness and pity.
“How is he?”
“A bit better. But not out of danger.”
