I’m already living in your flat, my sisterinlaw messaged, attaching a photo of herself stretched out on my favourite sofa.
Did you forget the milk again? I shouted from the kitchen, clutching the fridge door as if it might bolt away. I told you this morning!
Mum, Ive been swamped at work! Emma huffed, still in her flats, rummaging through her bag for her phone. I completely spaced it!
Spaced it! Everything you touch flies off the shelves! How am I supposed to have a proper cuppa without milk?
Drink it black or Ill pop out to the shop!
Now? Its already nine oclock; the shops are shut!
Emma kicked off her shoes, trudged into the kitchen and flopped onto a chair. Mum kept muttering while she rifled through the fridge. Emmas phone finally buzzed its battery had finally revived after draining at work.
The screen lit up with a flood of messages: adverts, work chats, and then one from Poppy.
Poppy my husband Jacks younger sister.
I opened the chat and read:
Hey, Em! Ive already moved into your flat. Got settled!
Below was a picture of Poppy, grinning, sprawled on the green sofa wed spent three months hunting for with Jack, driving all over town.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. I reread the text, twice, three times.
Mum, I called, my voice sounding oddly distant.
What? Megan turned from the fridge.
Did you hand over the keys to anyone?
To which flat?
To ours! The one Jack and I share!
No, of course not! Why would I?
I stared at the phone. Poppy was on my sofa, in my flat. How?
I typed, Poppy, this must be a mistake. Which flat?
She replied instantly, The one on Oakley Road! Jack said you didnt mind me staying with Mum for a bit, so Im crashing here. Perfect, isnt it?
I bolted upright, grabbed my coat.
Where are you going? Megan blocked the door. Em, whats happening?
Poppys in our flat! Jack let her in!
Which Poppy? The one whos always whining?
The very one!
I bolted out, sprinted down the stairs, and wrestled a cab with trembling hands. The driver needed a solid minute to guess the address while I shouted directions.
The ride felt endless. I stared out the window, recalling Poppy Jacks little sister, a perpetual underachiever who liked to call herself a failure. Thirtyfive, three marriages, a trail of jobs she kept getting the boot from.
When I first met Jack, Poppy was sweet, beaming, wishing us well. Then the calls started: My husband left, Im broke, Ive nowhere to live. Jack kept sending money, inviting her to stay. At first I didnt mind, but soon I saw the pattern shed move in once a month, spread her belongings everywhere, turn the kitchen into a warzone, and gab on the phone for hours. Jack kept saying she was alone and needed help.
The last month she lived with us, I finally snapped and confronted Jack. I told him it couldnt continue; we needed our own space. He agreed and asked Poppy to move out. She sulked, didnt call for three months, then without asking moved back in.
The cab finally pulled up at the building. I paid, raced up the stairs, and turned the key. A waft of cheap perfume hit me as I opened the door.
There she was, perched on the sofa, munching crisps and watching telly.
Oh, Em! Poppy chirped. Youre here! Jack said youd be at Mums all month!
All month?! My blood boiled. Poppy, what on earth are you doing here?
Im living here, she shrugged. Jack gave me the goahead. He thought youd be fine with it.
Im not fine! I snapped. Wheres Jack?
Hes at work theyve got an emergency, hell be late.
I dialed Jack; no answer. Again. Still nothing. I texted, Why did you let Poppy into our flat?
A minute later his reply buzzed: Em, cant talk now meeting. Ill explain later.
Poppy, pack your stuff and leave, I said coldly.
What do you mean leave? My flat was flooded! The repairs will take a month. Jack said I could stay here!
Jack never gave me permission! I huffed.
Yes, hes the owner! The tenancys in his name! Poppy retorted.
I clenched my fists. Yes, the flat was in Jacks name wed bought it before we married, and hed put more money in than I had. Id never pressed for joint ownership, trusting him.
This is our flat, I said slowly. I never said you could live here.
And I dont need your permission! Poppy snapped. Jack is my brother, hes family! And you? Youre just the wife wives come and go!
What?
She was with you first, Lucy! You two dated for three years before she left!
Lucy? What does that have to do with anything?
Jacks a bit of a flirt. Today its you, tomorrow its someone else. Im his sister Im forever!
My ears rang. This brazen, selfassured woman had taken over my home and now dared to lecture me.
Fine. You move out tomorrow morning, I declared, heading for the door.
No way! Jack gave me a month! Poppy shouted after me.
I slammed the door, fled down to the landing and sank onto the communal bench, hands shaking, throat tight.
Jack arrived an hour later, stopped short when he saw me.
What are you doing here, Em?
Waiting for you to explain why Poppys squatting in our flat.
Easy, love. Calm down. Lets talk, he said, sitting beside me.
Talk? You let your sister move in without telling me! You told her Id be staying with Mum for a month. Where did you get that from?
You said Mum was lonely and I should visit more often
Visit! Not move in! Jack, this is my flat too!
I know, I know. Poppy really has nowhere to go. Her flat got flooded a nightmare. I couldnt just turn her away.
You could have asked me first!
I thought youd understand
I dont understand why your sister is more important than me! Why should I give up my home?
Its only temporary. One month, he pleaded.
One month! The last time she stayed, it was a disaster mess, shouting at night, endless phone calls. I cant have that again.
She promised to be quiet
Promised! Every time she promises, she does the opposite!
Jack fell silent, then whispered, Em, I cant throw my sister out onto the street.
Can you throw me out?
Youre not on the street, love. Youre at Mums!
I want my home back my own flat!
Then come home! Poppy doesnt mind.
Doesnt mind? She told me Im a temporary wife, shes the permanent sister!
Jacks brow furrowed. She said that?
Word for word.
Shes emotional, I muttered, grabbing my bag. You know what, Jack? Live with your emotional sister. Im off to Mums for good.
What are you doing?
I stormed out, but Jack lingered, shoulders slumped. He turned and walked back to the flat, not to me.
I caught a cab to Mums. Megan met me with a flood of questions. I sobbed through the whole story.
Oh, dear, she sighed, hugging me. I told you Jack was a mothers boy! Or rather, a brothers boy.
Mum, I tried so hard. I put up with Poppy, helped her, and she calls me temporary!
Poppys a character. Remember at your wedding she wouldnt let Jacks hand go? She clung to him like a bride.
I remembered. Shed burst into tears one minute, laugh the next, claim shed lost her brother. Id dismissed it as nerves.
What now? I asked.
Nothing. Stay here. Let Jack sort his head out.
I collapsed onto my old bedroom floor. My phone kept buzzing. Jack called, texted, but I ignored him.
The next morning a message pinged from Poppy: Em, dont be mad! Come over, Ive baked pies!
I blocked her number.
A week passed. I went to work, then home to Mums. Jack called daily, begging me to return, promising to talk to Poppy. I stayed silent.
Lucy, a friend, finally rang.
Em, why arent you living at yours?
How would you know?
I walked past your block yesterday. Saw Poppy on the balcony waving, shouting about a housewarming.
A housewarming, I repeated, feeling my blood boil again.
I drove to Oakley Road, climbed the stairs, and opened the door.
The flat was unrecognisable. Poppy had rearranged the furniture, hung new curtains, placed her own knickknacks everywhere.
Em! Missed you! she squealed in a cosy bathrobe. Love the new look?
What are you doing?
Settling in! Jacks fine with it.
Wheres Jack?
At work. Whats it to you?
I entered the bedroom. The bed was dressed in Poppys bedding.
Youre sleeping in our bedroom?
Why would I? On the sofa Im a guest, not a squatter!
Youre a guest, temporary!
Jack said I could stay as long as I want!
Jack, Jack! I ripped the sheets off the bed. This is our flat too! Get out!
Poppys face went pale.
You cant kick me out! The lease is in Jacks name!
But Im his wife! I have rights too!
Youll stay! Im not moving! My flat is under repair, no money for a new place!
Find a job then!
Im looking, but no luck yet!
Convenient! I snapped, grabbing my bag. You know what? Live here alone, with Jack. Im never coming back.
I stormed out, slammed the door, and got into my car.
That evening Jack called.
Em, Poppy said you came by and yelled at her.
I yelled! Shes in our bed!
She finds it more convenient
Convenient? For whom?
Come back, well sort it out.
Nothing to sort! Either Poppy leaves or Im gone for good.
Shes my sister! I cant evict her!
And you can lose me?
Jack fell silent.
Thats the answer, I said, hanging up.
A month later Poppy was still there. Jack kept begging me to return, but I held firm.
Then I got a call from Lena, Poppys friend.
Em, can we meet?
Why?
We need to talk about Poppy.
We met at a café. Lena was serious, a little nervous.
Em, I think you deserve to know the truth.
Im listening.
Poppy staged the whole thing. She deliberately flooded her own flat, broke a pipe, just to have an excuse to move in with Jack.
My God.
She confessed to me. Shes tired being alone, wants to be close to her brother, and sees you as the one who stole his attention.
Stole?
Yes. Shes always depended on Jack. After her first divorce she moved in with him for a year until he finally asked her to leave. When you married him, she went into a fullblown tantrum.
I had no idea
Shes been hiding it, but shes always hated you, calling you the homewrecker. Now shes trying to reclaim what she thinks is hers.
I stared at her, stunned.
Why tell me?
Because Im fed up. She leeches off everyone Jack, you, me. She can work, but prefers to be a parasite. I needed to expose her.
Do you have proof?
She showed screenshots of texts where Poppy bragged about flooding her flat and scheming to crash at Jacks place.
I read them, my stomach turning. It was all deliberate.
Thanks, I said. Send me everything.
I forwarded the screenshots to Mum, then called Jack.
Come over. Now.
He arrived half an hour later. I handed him the phone. He read, his face went pale.
Is this true? he asked, voice shaking.
It is. She flooded her flat to force her way in, then pretended she had nowhere to go.
Jack sank into a chair.
I had no idea
You do now.
God, Em, Im sorry! I was a fool. I thought I was helping my sister.
She used you.
What should I do?
Kick her out. Immediately.
Jack nodded, stood, and headed out.
Can I come with you? I asked.
No. Deal with your own sister.
He left. I collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted.
Later that night Jack returned, eyes red, voice hoarse.
Did you get her out?
I did. She cried, swore everything was a lie, but I showed her the messages. She admitted she hates you.
And you?
I told her I never want to see her again. Shes not my sister anymore.
I looked at him, seeing genuine remorse.
Jack, you almost lost me.
I know. Ill never forgive myself.
Ill come back, on one condition.
Whats that?
Poppy never sets foot in our house again. Not even for a coffee.
I promise.
A week later I stepped back into the flat. Jack had put the furniture back, tossed Poppys things, and cleaned every corner.
Sorry, he said as I crossed the threshold. I was blind.
I was, I replied, a small smile creeping in. But youve fixed it. Lets hope it sticks.
Poppy kept calling for a month, but Jack didnt answer. Eventually she fell silent. Lena later told me Poppy moved back into her repaired flat, found a job, and started living on her own.
Poor thing, I mused.
Not really, Jack countered. She chose that path. She could have worked, built a life, but preferred to leech. She got what she deserved.
We never talked about Poppy again. We focused on our own plans. Jack transferred the title to both our names so I finally felt like an equal homeowner.
The green sofa wed spent three months hunting for sits where it always did, and now only the two of us ever use it.
