Were selling your flat and moving in with my parents, he repeated, stepping onto the balcony. Mum and Dad have sorted everythinga room upstairs, our own loo. Itll be dead convenient.
Penelope set down her book slowly. The spring air was crisp but lovely after a stuffy winter. She glanced at her husband in the doorway. Benedict looked dead setfar too determined for a lazy Saturday morning.
Come again? she asked, hoping shed misheard.
The flats going on the market. Well live with my parents. Its all arranged, he said, stepping closer. Mums got it all plannedplenty of space, no hassle.
Penelope stared, trying to work out if he was taking the mick. Three years of marriage had taught her his tells, but now she was stumped.
Ben, this was my nans flat. She left it to me.
So? The place needs work, bills are sky-high. My parents house is massiveroom for everyone. Well stick the sale money into savings.
Whose savings? Penelope pressed.
Ours, obviously. Mum says its the smart move. Shes always been sharp with money.
Penelope stood, walking to the railing. Kids played in the courtyard below. She remembered tearing around there herself as a girl, visiting Nan during school breaks.
Your mum decided what happens to my flat?
Dont start, Penny. Were talking this through like adults.
Talking? Youve handed me a done deal.
Benedict reached for her hand, but she stepped back.
Listen, it makes sense. Why cling to this place? My parents arent getting any youngerthey could use the help. And this flat? Its just a poky two-bed in the suburbs.
My childhood was here, Penelope said quietly. Nan left it to me because she knew Id treasure it.
Sentiments sweet, but it doesnt pay the bills. Mums rightweve got to think ahead.
Whose ahead? Your mums?
Benedicts face darkened. He couldnt stand anyone criticising his parents, especially his mum. Margaret had raised him alone till she met Charles when he was ten. Ever since, Benedict acted like it was his job to defend her.
Penny, enough. Its decided. Were seeing the estate agent Monday.
Decided by who?
By me. Im the head of this family.
Penelope laughedbitter, not amused.
Head of the family? Pull the other one. Ben, I thought we were equals.
Equals dont cling to rubbish. My mum sold her flat when she married Dad. They got on just fine.
Your mum sold a studio in Croydon and moved into your dads massive house. Bit different, innit?
Benedict flushed. He hated being called out on things hed rather ignore.
Dont you dare slag off my parents!
Im stating facts. And heres anotherI am NOT selling this flat.
Well see, Benedict spat, storming off.
Penelope stayed put. The sun warmed her face as she thought of Nan Edith, whod worked her whole life as a nurse to buy this place. Penny love, shed say, a woman should always have her own corner. Remember that.
That evening, Benedict brought his parents over for a cuppa. Penelope knew better. Margaret swept in first, eyes scanning the flat like a surveyor.
Blimey, no ones touched this place in decades, she announced. Peeling wallpaper, creaky floorboards. Imagine the cost to make it decent!
Charles lingered quietly in the lounge, settling into an armchair. He rarely piped up when Margaret was on a roll.
Tea, Margaret? Charles? Penelope offered.
Earl Grey, no sugar, Margaret said. Watching our figures.
Penelope headed to the kitchen. Benedict followed.
Dont be like this, he muttered. Theyre trying to help.
Help what? Rob me blind?
Dont be daft. You wont be homeless.
No, just trapped in your parents house, living by their rules.
Whats wrong with rules? Mum likes things tidy.
Penelopes hands shook slightly as she poured the tea.
Back in the lounge, Margaret had spread papers across the table.
Sit, Penelope, she said, tone leaving no room for argument. We need to sort the details.
What details?
The sale, obviously. Ive had a looka place like this could fetch a tidy sum. Well have to knock a bit off for the state of it, but still decent.
Margaret, Im not selling.
His mums eyebrows shot up.
Pardon? Ben said youd agreed.
Ben LIED.
Penny! Benedict cut in. We talked about this
You talked. I said no.
Margaret straightened, face hardening.
Listen here, girl. Benedicts my only son. I wont have some
Some WHAT? Penelope interrupted. Go on, say it.
Some girl from God-knows-where dictating terms.
Im dictating? Youre the one demanding I hand over my home!
Charles cleared his throat.
Margaret, maybe we should
Quiet, Charles! she snapped. Penelope, be reasonable. Our house is betterbig kitchen, garden, even a pool. What more could you want?
Freedom, Penelope said.
Freedom? From family?
From your CONTROL.
Margaret went red.
Im controlling? I care! About my son, his future!
His future or YOURS? Penelope shot back. Why dyou need my flats money?
Silence. Margaret and Charles exchanged looks. Benedict glanced between them, baffled.
Whats that supposed to mean? he protested. Penny, youre out of order!
Its a fair question. If your parents are so well-off, why do they need my flats cash?
Not yoursours! Were family! Margaret cried.
NO, Penelope said firmly. The flats in my name. Its MINE.
Selfish cow! Margaret exploded. Benedict, is this what you married?
Mum, calm down
Dont tell me to calm down! I raised you, gave up everything for you! And you bring this into our home
Thats it, Penelope stood. Get out of my flat.
What? Benedict gaped. Penny, you cant chuck out my parents!
Watch me. Margaret, Charlesgoodbye.
His mum stood, trembling with rage.
Benedict, were leaving. If your wife doesnt value family, weve no business here.
But, Mum
Now!
Benedict looked helplessly at Penelope, then his mum.
Penny, apologise. Youre in the wrong.
For what? Not handing over my home?
For disrespecting my mother!
She disrespected me first. But of course you missed that.
Benedict clenched his fists.
You know what? Maybe Mums right. You only care about yourself.
And you only care about your mum. Maybe you shouldve married her?
Benedict went pale. Margaret grabbed his arm.
Come on, son. Dont waste breath on ingrates.
They left, slamming the door. Penelope was alone with Margarets papersestate agent listings, solicitor contacts, even a draft contract.
Theyd planned it all, she realised. Never doubted Id roll over.
The next few days passed in silence. Benedict slept on the sofa, left early, came back late. When she tried to talk, he gave one-word answers.
On Thursday, Penelope came home to a stranger pacing her flat, scribbling notes.
Who are you? Howd you get in?
Oliver Thompson, surveyor, he said. Your husband gave me the keys for a valuation.
He had no right. Get out.
Nearly done
OUT. Now.
The man left. Penelope rang Benedict.
How dare you send a surveyor without asking?
Just checking the value. No law against it.
Ben, this is MY flat. You dont get to decide.
Youre my wife. Whats yours is mine.
NO. Its pre-marital.
Technicalities. We love each other.
Love doesnt mean STEALING my home.
Stealing? Thats rich!
What else dyou call trying to flog someone elses property?
Benedict hung up. He didnt come home. Penelope rang his mate James.
Hes with me, James said. Penny, whats going on?
Ask him.
He says you wont compromise.
I wont sell my home. Is that a crime?
No, but meet halfway?
What, sell up and be at his mums mercy?
James hesitated.
Dunno. But Bens gutted. Says his mums in bits.
Let her cry. Not my problem.
Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. A woman in a sharp suit stood there.
Victoria Ashworth, solicitor for the Whitmore family, she said. May I come in?
WhitmoreMargarets maiden name. Reluctantly, Penelope let her in.
Penelope, lets discuss the flat.
Nothing to discuss. Not selling.
I understand, but be reasonable. Youve been married three years. The Whitmores have done a lot for you.
Like what?
The wedding, holidays, gifts
Gifts, not loans. Or did Margaret expect payback?
Victoria smiled thinly.
Margarets generous. But she expects the same.
So, BLACKMAIL?
Not at all. Just reminding you family means helping each other.
Helping doesnt mean ROBBING me.
Youre overreacting. The moneys for family needs.
What needs?
Victoria paused.
Private matter.
If its about my flat, its MY business.
Penelope, dont make this messy. Margarets offering you a lovely room in their home.
How kind. A room for a two-bed flat.
Plus family support.
Support or suffocation?
Victoria sighed.
Youre being difficult. Benedict could divorce you.
Let him.
And claim half the assets.
The flats pre-marital. Not up for grabs.
But you renovated during the marriage. With Benedicts money.
Penelope laughed.
You mean the £50 wallpaper? Seriously?
Any improvements can make it marital property.
Try proving that in court.
Victoria stood.
Think hard. Is a flat worth losing your marriage?
Im not the one wrecking it.
The solicitor left, dropping a card. Penelope tore it up.
Monday at work, her colleague Emma pulled her aside.
Penny, is it true youre splitting?
Whered you hear that?
Ben posted online. Says you kicked him out over a flat.
Penelope checked his profile. A long rant about her selfishness, how she chose bricks over family. Dozens of comments sided with him.
She rang him.
Delete it.
Why? Its true.
Its lies. I didnt kick you outyou left.
After you slagged off my mum.
Ben, DELETE it or Ill post my side.
Go ahead. See who they believe.
That evening, Penelope wrote her versioncalm, factual. The fallout was instant. Friends picked sides.
A week later, Benedict turned up, looking rough.
Penny, we need to talk.
About what?
Us. Our future.
Do we have one?
He sank onto the sofa, head in hands.
I dont want a divorce. But Mum
What about her?
Says if I dont make you sell, shell cut me out of the will.
Whats in this will?
The house, savings, Dads business.
So its me or your parents money?
Its not that simple!
It is. Do you love me, or her cash?
Stop twisting it!
Then answerwhy does your mum need my flats money?
Silence. Then, quietly:
Theyre in debt.
What? I thought they were loaded!
Were. Dad made bad investments. House is mortgaged.
Penelope sat beside him.
Why not say so straight off?
Mum forbade it. Family business.
And the fix is stealing my flat?
Itd buy time. Pay off the worst debts.
Ben, thats not a fix. Thats a plaster.
What then? Let them lose everything?
Honesty wouldve helped. We couldve worked something out.
Like what?
Rent the flat out. Steady income.
Mum would never live off your rent.
Then she finds another way.
Benedict paced.
You dont get it. Losing the housell destroy her.
Ben, Im sorry. Truly. But I wont pay for their mistakes.
Their mistakes? Theyre my family!
To me, theyre strangers. Especially after how theyve treated me.
Youre heartless!
Im realistic. Your parents lied, bullied, humiliated me. Now Im meant to hand them my home?
To us! Were family!
NO, Ben. Family means trust. Not lies.
He grabbed his coat.
You know what? Mums right. Youre selfish.
And youre a mummys boy. Maybe thats the real issue.
He slammed the door. His phone buzzed on the tablea text from Margaret:
Well? Did she agree?
Penelope left it untouched.
Next morning, his phone rang nonstop. Around noon, pounding on the door.
Penelope, open up! Margaret shrieked.
Penelope opened it a crack, chain on.
What?
Bens phone! Dont play dumb!
He left it. He can fetch it himself.
He wont see you!
Good.
Margaret turned purple.
Ill call the police!
Do. Explain why youre harassing me.
Its my sons home too!
No. Hes not on the lease.
Charles peeked over her shoulder.
Margaret, lets go. This is undignified.
Quiet! Shes ruined our boy!
Ben ruined himself choosing your money over me.
You
Neighbours, the elderly Harrisons, appeared.
Everything alright? Mr Harrison asked sternly.
Fine, Penelope said. Ex-relatives after a phone.
Ex? Mrs Harrison asked.
Soon-to-be, Penelope clarified.
Margaret huffed, but Charles dragged her toward the lift.
That evening, Benedict collected his phone and some clothes.
Ill get the rest later, he muttered.
Ben, wait. We need to discuss the divorce.
Whats to discuss? You chose a flat over me.
You chose your mum.
He paused in the doorway.
I thought you loved me.
I did. Till you tried to steal from me.
I wasnt stealing! I was helping my family!
By taking mine. Thats theft.
He left. Penelope leaned against the door, heart aching but lighter somehow.
The divorce was quick. Benedict didnt fight for the flat. Penelope asked for nothing.
A month later, she bumped into James at a café.
Hows Ben? she asked, stirring her tea.
Dunno, she corrected with a small smile. We dont speak.
I do, James said. All three of them are crammed into a one-bed in Walthamstow. Lost the house to debts.
Penelope nodded. Not surprised.
Margarets working at a Boots now, he went on. Bens just a desk jockey. Skint.
I do feel bad for them, she admitted.
Ben asks about you. Says he messed up.
Too late.
James finished his coffee.
You happy?
Penelope smiled.
Finally redid the balcony. New chair, flowers. Mornings with a book, no regrets.
None?
Not one. Nans flat only felt like home after the lies left. Now its just meand thats enough for now.
She stood, grabbing her bag.
Best go. Decorators comingnew bedroom wallpaper. My money, my flat, my rules.
Walking home, the spring sun warmed her face. For the first time in ages, she felt light. Free.
