Youve got problems, little sister, but this flat isnt yours.
My mothers sister never had children, but she owned a lovely three-bedroom flat in the heart of London and struggled with serious health issues. Her late husband had been a collector, so the place looked more like a museum than a home.
My younger sister, Daisy, has a lazy husband and two kids. They live in a cramped rented room in student accommodation. When Daisy heard about our aunts declining health, she rushed over straight away to complain about her own miserable life.
Now, let me be clearour aunt isnt exactly pleasant. Shes sharp-tongued and doesnt hold back when someone needs putting in their place. For years, shed invited me and my husband to live with her, promising to leave us the flat.
But we had our own place and turned down her *generous offer*. Still, we brought her groceries and medicine now and then, and I cleaned for her out of duty, not because I fancied her square footage. Right after Daisys visit, she and her family moved in with Aunt Margaret within days.
I never got on with Daisyshes always been jealous. Ive got a hardworking, loving husband, a brilliant son, a good job, a decent salary, and my own home. Daisy only ever called when she needed to borrow money.
But shes got a terrible memory when it comes to paying people back. After I got pregnant again, I didnt have time for Aunt Margaret, though my husband still dropped off treats now and then. When my baby was six months old, I went to see her. As I reached the door, I heard shoutingmy sisters voice.
Until you sign that deed, youre not getting any food, so crawl back inside, and dont even think about leaving the doghouse tonight!
I rang the bell. When Daisy saw me, she blocked the door, sneering, Dont even dream of coming in. This flat isnt yours!
She only let me in after I threatened to call the police. Aunt Margaret had aged ten years since Id last seen her. When our eyes met, tears ran down her face.
Why are you crying? Go on, tell her how *well* we treat you, and tell her to back off. Look, she couldnt even be bothered to bring the baby! Daisy snapped.
Aunt Margarets room had been stripped barejust a single bed left. Her wardrobe was gone, her things dumped on the floor. The flat was empty of all the collectables, and Aunt Margaret wasnt wearing any of her usual jewellery. It was obvious Daisy and her husband were still unemployed, living off whatever they could sell.
I excused myself to the loo and texted my husband: *We need to save Aunt Margaret. She cant stay here.* When I returned, I started chatting about my year, mentioning the baby. Just hold on a little longer, I whispered, squeezing her hand. She understood and gave me a grateful look.
Daisy tried dragging me out, while her husband kept asking if I wasnt overstaying my welcomesurely my baby missed me? Exactly an hour later, my husband arrived with a constable from the local station. Daisy took her time opening the door. Oh, its just my husband, I said sweetly.
The officer was an unpleasant surprise for them. I led him to Aunt Margaret. Heres your victim. I heard them withholding food. Theyve sold her furniture, jewellery, everything. Her husbands collection was worth thousands.
As Daisy wailed, the officer asked, Do you want to press charges?
Daisy got off lightly, but her husband got two years in prison. Mum took Daisy and the kids ineven though shed kicked her out years ago. She blamed *me* for involving the police, swore Id never inherit a penny, but Aunt Margaret left me the flat in gratitude.
Now, my husband and I visit her just like before, and weve hired a carer. I cant even imagine what she endured living with Daisy!
