After Becky’s mum died, it was time to sell her childhood home. Then Andrew Milne got in touch

Becky lived with her mum 24 hours a day by the end. When Jean’s health deteriorated at the age of 80, Becky gave up her job teaching and moved back into her childhood home. “She wanted to pass peacefully at home,” Becky tells me. “It was hard, obviously.”

After Jean’s death, once all the formalities had been completed, Becky started the process of selling the family house in Bradway. The market was slow, but they’d had a few viewings. Then, in August, the estate agent called Becky. “There’s this man trying to get hold of you”, they said. They didn’t know who he was, but he seemed pretty persistent. 

Had Becky ever heard of Andrew Milne?

Becky e-mailed this mysterious correspondent. Milne replied quickly. He owned the freehold, he informed her, and the ground rent was in arrears. That didn’t sound right to Becky — it had always been paid as far as she was aware, and there hadn’t been any demands through the letterbox.

But soon any talk of ground rent was forgotten. Milne had spotted something — something he intended to exploit. When the house had been built, 64 years earlier, there was no requirement to register leases with the land registry. So while the lease existed, it wasn’t on the public record.

This was a bit of admin that Becky’s parents probably hadn’t realised they needed to sort out. But the punctuation-free e-mail that followed left no room for tidying up paperwork. Horrified, Becky read Milne’s words. “I accordingly am entitled to vacant possession of the property”, he asserted. “I am writing to give you 7 days notice that I will have a locksmith and agent attend to recover possession for me and change the locks”. 

Despite paying only around £400 for the freehold of Becky’s mum’s house, Milne now intended to take the whole thing. It had recently gone on the market for £300,000.

The impact on Becky was devastating. “You're on your own and you don’t know what to do… it's just absolutely horrendous,” she says. She barely slept for weeks, and her arthritis flared up with the stress.

Not only that, but she started to dread going to her beloved childhood home. “I was actually scared to go, in case somebody was there and had either got in the house or was trying to change the locks,” she says. “My mum and dad worked hard all my life to ensure that we inherited the house from them. And my mum — I wanted to make sure she had the best love and care, especially being poorly like she was. And for somebody to send a letter saying I’m going to take possession and change the locks in seven days — it puts the fear of God in you.”

Thankfully, the people at the Land Registry were much more understanding. In view of the situation, they expedited registering the lease, and within 48 hours it was in her name.

Milne’s claim on the property was now completely baseless. But that didn’t mean he was going to let up. Soon the letters were flooding in; there had been alterations, he claimed, breaches of covenants. If Becky ever wanted to sell the property, she would need to buy the freehold off him — for £100,000.

“He was saying: ‘you’ll never sell it’, because he wouldn’t give permission because of the alterations”, Becky says. Milne dropped his price to £25,000; Becky’s solicitors went back with an offer of £1,000. Since then, despite setting several deadlines, they haven’t heard from him. The house is in limbo.

But this week, Becky’s been feeling more confident. At a meeting in Bradway Community Hall on Monday, over 30 residents got together to discuss how they should collectively respond to Milne. It was also attended by a couple of those in Crosspool who received letters a few weeks earlier, to give their advice. Becky and many others shared their stories of receiving the letters and trying to work out what to do. “I was absolutely astounded at the amount of people who were actually at this meeting and were being affected,” Becky says. The mood was sympathetic, but determined to resist. In fact, Becky credits Milne with bringing the community together. “People actually feel kind of empowered against this man.”

We asked Milne why he claimed he was entitled to the property, and what his response was to the distress Becky had experienced. But this time, instead of threats, or diatribes about leaseholds, we heard only silence. 

We have tried, many times, to ask Milne what he would say to those who have felt pressured or even terrified by his letters, which we reported on last week, a story that has had a massive response. But this is one question he never wants to answer.

So, when everything else fails, you have to go back to the oldest trick in the journalist’s book: the ‘doorstep’. 

It was time to find Andrew Milne.