In the quiet of the evening, Eleanor pushed the last of the dinner plates into the dishwasher and set it to run. The Friday supper had gone wellWilliam had devoured her beef Wellington with relish. Even Beatrice, who usually turned up her nose at anything “that newcomer” preparedas she referred to Eleanor in hushed toneshad helped herself to seconds.
“I’m off for a bath,” William called from the hall. “Cricket with the lads tomorrowneed an early night.”
“Of course,” Eleanor replied, wiping down the countertop.
Beatrice lounged in the sitting room, eyes fixed on her mobile. She had arrived the previous eveningas usual, unannounced, arms laden with shopping bags and her customary scowl. “Just popping in for the weekend,” she had said, though Eleanor knew better by now.
“Fancy some tea?” Eleanor asked, leaning into the doorway.
“No,” Beatrice snapped, not glancing up.
Eleanor let it pass. Three years of marriage had taught her to ignore her sister-in-laws barbs. William always said, “Beas got a sharp tongue, but she means well. Dont take it to heart.”
The sound of running water echoed from upstairs. Eleanor filled the kettle and reached for her favourite cup. Then she caught Beatrices voice, low but clear in the stillness of the house.
“Mum, how are you? Yes, at theirs again No, she served up her usual slop Listen, I spoke to the solicitor.”
Eleanor froze, the cup hovering in her grasp. Beatrices whisper carried plainly into the kitchen.
“Yes, through the courts Since the flat was left to William, not both of them No, that silly cow hasnt a clue she can be struck from the deed William will sign anything if you word it right”
The cup slipped from Eleanors fingers and shattered on the tiles.
“What on earth was that?” Beatrices voice sharpened.
“Dropped a cup,” Eleanor managed, ice settling in her chest.
The flat The three-bedroom in Kensington where she and William had lived since their wedding. A gift from his grandmother. “For the two of you,” the old woman had said. And now this viper meant to have her tossed out?
“Typical,” Beatrice appeared in the doorway. “Butterfingers, as usual.”
“Sorry, lost my grip,” Eleanor bent to gather the shards, grateful Beatrice couldnt see her face.
“Honestly, use a dustpan.”
Eleanor fetched it silently, hands trembling.
“Why are you shaking? Its just a cup,” Beatrice narrowed her eyes.
“Startled myself, thats all,” Eleanor lied.
“Oh, of course. Our delicate little daisy,” Beatrice scoffed before retreating.
One thought hammered in Eleanors mind: They mean to throw me out. Out of my own home. Thats why Beatrice turned up unannounced
William emerged from the bath, humming absently.
“Broke a cup, love?” he smiled. “Not to worryweve stacks of them.”
“Yes,” Eleanor forced a smile.
He kissed her forehead and wandered off to bed.
Eleanor did not sleep a wink. William snored softly beside her as she stared at the ceiling, thinking. Tell her husband? But he adored Beatrice, always making excuses for her. Speak to her mother-in-law? She was clearly in on it! The woman had never warmed to Eleanor, though she hid it well.
I must handle this myself, Eleanor resolved by dawn. But how?
At first light, she slipped from bed and crept to the kitchen. Her hands shook so violently she missed the sugar bowl twice.
“Right, steady on,” she whispered. “Think.”
Her gaze fell on a solicitors card pinned to the corkboardMr. Thompson had helped their neighbour with a property dispute. She snatched up her phone.
“Good morning! Mr. Thompson? This is Eleanor Hart, Margarets neighbour.”
She spoke in hushed tones, eyes darting to the door.
“I need urgent advice. Could we meet today? One oclock? Splendid!”
William shuffled in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Up early, arent you?” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
“Couldnt sleep,” Eleanor avoided his gaze. “William, Im visiting a friend todayhavent seen her in ages.”
“Which friend?”
“Clara,” she blurted the first name that came to mind.
“Ah, righto,” he yawned. “Taking Bea to the cinema later. She asked last night.”
Of course she did, Eleanor thought but held her tongue.
The solicitors office smelled of leather and ink. Mr. Thompson, a bespectacled man with thinning hair, listened intently.
“The flat came from your husbands grandmother Are you on the deed?”
“Yes, straight after the wedding.”
“And whose name is on the title?”
“Pardon?”
“The ownership papers. Was it a gift? Inheritance?”
Eleanor blinked. “I dont know William handled all that.”
The solicitor sighed.
“First, determine who legally owns the property. If its solely your husbandyoure in a spot. If its jointhis sister cant touch you.”
“How do I check?”
“Request a land registry extract. Do it today.”
Eleanor returned home with purpose. In the hall, she tripped over Beatrices boots.
“Back already?” Beatrice emerged from the kitchen. “Whereve you been? We wondered.”
“With a friend,” Eleanor kept her voice even.
“Went to the pictures with William,” Beatrice smirked. “Still a boy at heartchose some ridiculous action flick.”
Eleanor nodded, slipping past. In the bedroom, she shut the door and pulled out her phone. Found the land registry site, ordered the extract. Paid. Now to wait.
That night, once William slept and Beatrice retreated to the guest room, Eleanor checked her email. The document had arrived. Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
“Proprietor: William Arthur Cartwright.”
Eleanors breath caught. So Beatrice was rightlegally, the flat was his alone. She had no claim beyond residency. Fear curdled into fury. Not a chance!
At dawn, she rang the solicitor again.
“Mr. Thompson, the situation is”
“Listen carefully,” he cut in. “Have you been registered there over three years?”
“Nearly three.”
“Good. That grants you occupancy rights. Plus, furnishings and improvements made during marriage are joint assets. If youve proof of contributing to renovations”
“We did! I kept all receipts,” Eleanor recalled.
“Then youve a strong case. Gather everything. And cruciallydont sign anything your husband or his family put before you.”
“Thank you.”
“And Eleanor you ought to tell your husband.”
She sighed. “I doubt hed take my side.”
The following days, Eleanor moved as if walking on eggshells. She smiled, cooked, played the dutiful wife. All the while, she compiled evidence: receipts for furniture, appliances, the kitchen remodel. Bank statements showing her transfers. Their marriage contract, stating joint assets.
On Monday, Beatrice announced shed stay another week.
“Unexpected holiday,” she simpered at William. “You wont turf your own sister out, will you?”
“Stay as long as you like!” William laughed.
Eleanor bit her tongue.
That evening, she overheard Beatrice whispering again:
“Mum, its all going smoothly Yes, Ill linger No, the fool suspects nothing The papers are nearly ready William will sign, hes no choice”
Eleanors blood ran hot. Not so fast, my girl.
The next day, she took leave and visited the notary. Then the land registry. By evening, she had a fat folder of documents and a plan.
“Darling, shall we invite your parents this weekend?” she asked casually over supper. “Its been an age since we all gathered.”
Beatrices head jerked up, eyes narrow.
“Capital idea!” William beamed. “Bea, Mum will be chuffed youre here too.”
“Naturally,” Beatrice muttered. “Thrilled.”
Come Saturday, Eleanor cooked from dawn. Roasting, baking, simmeringshe poured her fury into the feast. The last family supper, she thought grimly, chopping herbs.
By six, the table groaned. Williams parents arrivedArthur and Margaret. Her mother-in-laws gaze swept over Eleanor with false warmth.
“You look well, dear,” Margaret said.
“Thank you,” Eleanor smiled. “Do sit.”
Once seated, William raised his glass.
“To family! All together!”
“To family,” Eleanor echoed, sipping her wine.
Beatrice caught her eye and smirked. Not for long, Eleanor thought.
“Actually,” she said aloud, “theres something we must discuss.”
All eyes turned to her.
“William, I overheard Beatrice speaking to your mother the other day.”
Silence fell. Beatrice paled.
“Whats this about?” William frowned.
“That your sister and mother are
