**”Overhearing My Husbands Sister Plotting to Take My Home I Gave Her an Unexpected Surprise”**
Margaret shoved the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and switched on the express cycle. The Friday supper had gone well: Edward had devoured her beef and ale pie with relish. Even Beatrice, who always turned up her nose at anything that upstart cookedas she called Margaret behind her backhad managed two helpings.
Im off for a shower, Edward called from the hall. Got football with the lads tomorrow; need my rest.
Go on, Margaret waved him off, then wiped down the worktop.
Beatrice sat in the parlour, glued to her mobile. Shed arrived the night beforeas usual, without warning, laden with shopping bags and her usual sour expression. Just stopping by for the weekend, she always said.
Fancy a cuppa? Margaret asked, poking her head through the doorway.
No, Beatrice snapped, not looking up.
Margaret shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Three years of marriage had taught her to ignore her sister-in-laws barbs. Edward always said, Beas sharp-tongued, but shell come round. Dont take it to heart.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Margaret flicked on the kettle and reached for her favourite mug. Then she caught Beatrices voice from the parlour:
Mum, how are you? Yes, Im at theirs No, she cooked her usual rubbish Listen, I spoke to the solicitor.
Margaret froze, mug in hand. Beatrice lowered her voice, but in the quiet flat, the words carried clearly.
Yes, through the courts Since the flat was left to Edward, not both of them No, that fool doesnt even know she can be struck off the deeds Edward will sign anything if you ask him nicely
The mug slipped from Margarets fingers and shattered on the floor.
Whats going on in there? Beatrices voice sharpened.
Dropped a mug, Margaret replied, her blood turning to ice.
The flat The three-bedroom in Kensington where she and Edward had lived for three years. A gift from his grandmother. For the young couple, the old woman had said. And now this viper meant to have her tossed out?
Typical, Beatrice appeared in the doorway. Butterfingers, arent you?
Sorry, just distracted, Margaret bent to gather the shards, glad Beatrice couldnt see her face.
Use the dustpan, for heavens sake.
Margaret fetched it obediently, hands trembling.
Why are you shaking? Beatrice narrowed her eyes. Its only a mug.
Just startled, Margaret lied.
Oh, of course. Our delicate little flower, Beatrice scoffed and stalked back to the parlour.
One thought pounded in Margarets head: *They mean to throw me out. Out of my own home. Thats why Beatrice turned up*
Edward emerged from the bathroom, humming.
Broke a mug, love? he smiled. No matter, well buy a dozen more.
Yes, Margaret forced a smile.
Edward kissed her forehead and went to bed.
That night, Margaret didnt sleep a wink. Edward snored beside her while she stared at the ceiling, thinking. Tell her husband? But he adored his sister. Complain to her mother-in-law? She was clearly in on it! Shed never warmed to Margaret, though she hid it well.
*I must act alone,* Margaret decided by dawn. But how?
In the morning, she rose first and crept to the kitchen. Her hands shook so badly she missed the cup twice with the sugar.
Steady on, she whispered. Think.
Her gaze fell on a solicitors card stuck to the fridgeMr. Thompson had helped their neighbour with a property dispute. Margaret snatched up her phone.
Good morning! Mr. Thompson? Margaret Whitmore here, Mrs. Dawsons neighbour.
She spoke softly, eyes darting to the door.
I need advice urgently. Today? One oclock? Perfect.
Edward shuffled in, sleep-rumpled.
Morning, he leaned in for a kiss. Up early?
Couldnt sleep, Margaret avoided his gaze. Edward, Im visiting a friend today, all right? Havent seen her in ages.
Which friend?
Emily, she blurted the first name that came to mind.
Righto, he yawned. Taking Bea to the pictures. She asked last night.
*Of course she did,* Margaret thought bitterly.
The solicitors office smelled of leather and ink. Mr. Thompson, a balding man with spectacles, listened intently.
The flat was from your husbands grandmother Are you on the deeds?
Yes, right after the wedding.
And whose name is on the title?
Pardon?
The ownership papers. Deed of gift? Will?
Margaret blinked.
I dont know Edward handled it.
The solicitor sighed.
First, confirm who owns the flat. If its just your husbandyoure in trouble. If its both of youhis sister cant touch you.
How do I find out?
Request a land registry extract. Do it today.
Margaret returned home with a plan. In the hall, she tripped over Beatrices boots.
Back already! Beatrice smirked from the kitchen. Whereve you been? We wondered.
With a friend, Margaret kept her voice even.
Went to the cinema with Edward, Beatrice leaned against the wall. Still a boy at heartpicked those dreadful action films.
Margaret nodded and slipped into the bedroom. She pulled out her phone, found the land registry site, ordered the extract. Paid. Now to wait.
That evening, with Edward asleep and Beatrice in the guest room, Margaret checked her email. The extract had arrived. Her hands trembled as she opened it.
**Owner: Whitmore Edward James.**
Margaret gasped. Beatrice was rightthe flat was his alone. She was merely a tenant. Fear gave way to fury. *Not a chance!*
At dawn, she rang the solicitor again.
Mr. Thompson, heres the situation
Listen carefully, he cut in. Have you been there over three years?
Nearly three.
Good. Then youve rights of occupation. Plus, furnishings bought during marriage are joint property. If youve proof you paid for renovations
We refurbished! I kept all receipts, Margaret recalled.
Then youve a strong case. Gather everything. And above all*dont sign anything* they give you.
Thank you.
And Margaret you ought to tell your husband.
Margaret sighed. I doubt hell take my side.
The next two days, Margaret trod carefully. She smiled, cooked, played the dutiful wife. Meanwhile, she gathered evidence: receipts for furniture, appliances, renovations. Bank transfers. Their marriage contract, stating joint assets.
On Monday, Beatrice announced she was staying another week.
Sudden holiday, she simpered at Edward. You wont turn your own sister out, will you?
Stay as long as you like! Edward laughed.
Margaret clenched her teeth.
That evening, she overheard Beatrice whispering:
Mum, alls going to plan Yes, Ill stay No, that fool suspects nothing The papers are nearly ready Edward will sign, hes no choice
Margarets blood boiled. *Not so fast, dear.*
The next day, she took leave and went to the notary. Then the land registry. By evening, she had a folder of documents and a plan.
Darling, shall we invite your parents this weekend? she asked lightly over supper. Its been ages.
Beatrices head jerked up, eyes narrowed.
Capital idea! Edward beamed. Bea, Mum will be chuffed youre here too.
Of course, Beatrice muttered. Lovely.
On Saturday, Margaret cooked feverishly. Roasting, baking, simmeringshe poured her anger into the meal. *The last family supper,* she thought, chopping herbs.
By six, the table groaned with food. Edwards parents arrivedJames and Eleanor. As ever, her mother-in-law gave her a chilly once-over.
You look well, Margaret dear, she said with false warmth.
Thank you, Margaret smiled. Do sit down.
Once theyd eaten, Edward raised his glass:
To family! All together!
To family, Margaret echoed, sipping her wine.
Beatrice caught her eye and smirked. *Not for long,* Margaret thought.
Actually, Margaret said loudly, theres something I must mention.
All eyes turned to her.
Edward, I overheard Beatrice speaking to your mother the other day.
Silence fell. Beatrice went pale.
Whats this? Edward frowned.
Your sister and mother mean to convince you to transfer the flat solely