Sister Changed the Locks
“Hattie, love, when are you going to decide?” Marina fretted, fingers twisting the edge of the tablecloth as she sat at the kitchen table. “The estate agents have called me three times this week. Serious buyers, cash in hand.”
Hattie stirred her tea in silence, not lifting her gaze. The teaspoon clinked against the china, a dull, grating rhythm.
“Are you even listening?” Marinas voice sharpened. “Or will you pretend this has nothing to do with you?”
“It does,” Hattie murmured. “Very much so. But its your decision, not mine.”
Marina sighed, rubbing her temples. Ever since the divorce, life had turned upside down. Child support came irregularly, she juggled two jobs, and now their mother had left them the flatone flat, for two sisters.
“You see, Hattie, I need the money. The car loan, Dannys tutoring for uni What are you suggesting? That we sit in this old flat until we retire?”
Hattie finally looked up. Her eyes held a deep weariness that made Marina flinch.
“And where am I supposed to go, Marina? Youve got a job, a salary. I was made redundant six months ago. Try finding decent work at forty-five.”
“Then look! Dont just sit there like a wet blanket!” Marina snapped. “Mum loved us both the same. The flats half yours. We sell, split the money, and each of us makes do.”
Hattie stood, drifting to the window. The courtyard, familiar since childhood, the patch of green where theyd played hopscotch, the bench their mother used to sit on in the evenings
“Remember,” she said softly, “Mum in the hospital before she died? She held my hand and said, Hattie, youre my homebody. You need this place more. Marinas strong, shell manage, but you”
“That was the morphine talking!” Marina cut in. “Theres no willits split legally.”
“I know. Thats why Ive stayed quiet,” Hattie said wearily.
Marina watched her sister and felt the old frustration bubble up. Hattie, always quiet, always yielding, yet somehow all burdens fell on her shoulders. At school, shed defended Hattie from bullies. At uni, shed pulled strings when Hattie failed her exams. When her marriage collapsed, it was Marinas door shed wept at.
“Fine,” Marina said sharply. “Youve got a month. Find a job, rent a placegood. If not, we sell. I cant wait anymore.”
Hattie nodded without turning.
The month passed too quickly. Hattie went to interviews, answered ads, but everywhere wanted youth, energy, computer skills. Her experience was outdatedtwenty years in a design firm long since shut down.
“Well?” Marina asked the moment she stepped inside.
“Nothing yet,” Hattie sighed. “But tomorrow, the library”
“Thats it!” Marina slammed her palm on the table. “We sign the contract tomorrow. The buyers have already paid the deposit.”
Hattie paled.
“Marina, just wait a little longer. Maybe something will”
“No. Its decided.” Marina pulled papers from her bag. “Documents. Ten a.m. at the solicitors. Dont dare not show upyour signatures needed.”
That night, Hattie didnt sleep. She wandered the flat, touching familiar things, gazing at photos. Her whole life was here, every corner steeped in memory. And tomorrow
In the morning, Marina left for work, tossing over her shoulder, “Ill be back at nine. Well go together.”
Hattie sat with cold tea when the doorbell rang. Their elderly neighbour, Mrs. Clarke, stood there, frowning.
“Hattie, love Whys Marina changing the locks? A locksmith came, fitted new ones. Said the owner ordered it.”
Hatties heart lurched. She rushed to the door, tried her keyit didnt fit. The new lock gleamed, mocking her.
Marinas phone rang endlessly. Hattie dialled again and again, hearing only the empty tone.
“Mrs. Clarke,” she whispered, trembling, “may I use your phone? Maybe shell answer the landline.”
“Of course, love, of course.”
Marina picked up on the third ring.
“Yes?” Her voice was brisk, cold.
“Marina, its me. Whats with the locks?”
“Oh, Hattie. Yes, I changed them. Youre living in *my* flat now, understand? *Mine.* And I decide who stays.”
“Yours? Its ours!”
“Was ours. Now its mine. The contracts signed. I forged your signature. Our writings similarremember school, when you did my homework?”
The floor seemed to vanish beneath Hattie.
“Youyou cant! Thats fraud! Ill take you to court!”
“Go ahead,” Marina said flatly. “Youll prove nothing. The solicitors a friend. The buyers no stranger. You werent thereno witnesses. Whod believe Id forge my own sisters signature?”
“But how, Marina? Were sisters! Same blood!”
“Thats why I put up with you this long. But no more. I need money, not a deadweight.”
“Where will I live? What am I supposed to do?”
“Not my problem. Youll figure it out. Youre an adult.”
The line went dead. Hattie stood in the hallway, numb. Mrs. Clarke touched her shoulder gently.
“Love, whats happened?”
Hattie sobbed out the story. Mrs. Clarke shook her head, clucking.
“Lord above, whats the world come to? Throwing out family Never mind, Hattie, stay with me tonight. Well sort something.”
Hattie stayed three days. Marina never called, never asked after her. As if shed ceased to exist.
On the fourth day, Mrs. Clarke bustled in, beaming.
“Hattie! Remember Mrs. Whitby from flat ten? Her daughters back from Americataking her mum to live there. Needs someone to mind the flat while its being sold. Live there, just pay the bills and keep it tidy. What dyou say?”
Salvation. Hattie hugged her.
“Dont get too comfortable,” Mrs. Clarke warned. “Find work, get back on your feet. No slacking.”
Hattie nodded fervently. She wanted to livedesperately.
Mrs. Whitbys flat was bright, spacious. The old woman showed her where everything was, how to care for the plants, what pills to give the cat.
“I dont know you, dear,” she admitted, “but Mrs. Clarke vouched for you. And if she says youre good, you are.”
That evening, Hattie sat in the new kitchen, tea in hand. A show played softly on the telly, the cat purred on the sill, rain tapped the window. For the first time in ages, she felt peace.
The doorbell startled her. Marina stood there, dishevelled, rain dripping from her coat.
“Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.
Hattie stepped aside.
Marina entered, sat at the table.
“Youve landed well,” she said, glancing around. “Nicer than our old place.”
“Its temporary,” Hattie said quietly.
“I know. Mrs. Clarke told me.”
Silence. Marina twisted her bag strap; Hattie studied the tablecloth.
“Dannys ill,” Marina blurted. “Pneumonia. In hospital.”
Hattie looked up.
“What do the doctors say?”
“Its bad. Expensive meds, treatments” Marinas voice wavered. “The flat moneys gone. Sold the car, everything.”
“Why tell me this?”
“I dont know,” Marina admitted. “Maybe I wanted you to know where it went. Not on clothes or parties.”
Hattie stood, filled the kettle.
“Tea?”
Marina nodded.
They drank in silence. Marina kept glancing at Hattie, as if wrestling with words.
“Hattie,” she finally said, “I know what I did was rotten. I wont make excuses. But I didnt know what else to do. I was cornered.”
“You couldve talked. Explained. Id have understood.”
“Really?” Marina frowned. “Remember how you reacted every time I mentioned selling? Like I was murdering you.”
“Maybe. But forgerys a crime, Marina.”
“I know. I think about it every night. Especially now, with Danny” She turned away.
Hattie studied her sister. The anger ebbed, leaving only hollow pity.
“How is he?”
“A bit better. But not out of danger.”
“Tell him Auntie Hatties praying for him.”
Marina nodded, stood.
“I should go. Thanks for the tea.”
