Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you?
– Sorry, the man muttered, shifting aside.
He grumbled something else under his breathresentful and sad. He stood there, counting out small change in his palm. Probably a bit short for a bottle, I thought. I found myself looking at his face. Odd he didnt look drunk.
– Sir sorry, I really didnt mean to be rude. Something kept me from just turning away.
– Its alright.
He raised his eyes to meet mine. They were piercingly blue, untouched by age. He must be near enough my own age. Id never seen such vibrant eyes, not even when I was younger.
I took him gently by the elbow and led him aside, away from the small queue at the till.
– Has something happened? Do you need a hand? I tried to keep a neutral face.
At last, I understood the smell wasnt drinkjust stale sweat, the lingering odour of days without a wash. He said nothing, tucking the coins away in his pocket, awkward, as if it was a humiliation to say aloud what was wrong. With a woman, a stranger, and one so decently dressed.
– My names Margaret. And you?
– William.
– Sodo you need some help? I realised I was almost forcing myself on him.
On some vagrant, really. He flashed his blue eyes at me again, then kept his gaze on the ground. Well, fine then. I was about to head off when he managed to blurt out,
– I need work. Do you know anywhere one can pick up a small job? Maybe repairs, odd jobs? This is a big, decent village, after all, but I dont know a soul here. Sorry
I listened, silent, while William went on, his voice trailing into mumbled embarrassment. And I found myself wondering, is it safe to let anyone into your house? I had just planned to retile the bathroom. My son insisted hed do it, told me not to hire any cowboy buildersbut he was always busy, and who knew when hed get around to it
– Can you lay tiles? I asked William.
– I can.
– How much would you charge for a bathroom, ten square metres?
He gave a little gruntprobably surprised by the size. Its not every day you see a toilet that big.
– Id have to look. Really, though, whatever you think is fair.
William did an excellent and careful job with the bathroom. First, he politely asked if he could have a showerwhich I thought was very decent of him to think of. At least I could hope he wouldnt leave any nasties behind. I handed William some of my late husbands old clothes, and he laundered his own. The work itself he finished across the weekend: chipped off all the old tiles, tidied up beautifully, wiped down the tools and put everything back properly. By Sunday night, the new tiles gleamed on floor and walls. In truth, I was a little anxious that he was finishing up. He was, I suspected, basically homeless. Should I offer him another nights stay? That felt odd. But it was hardly right to send him out at midnight, either.
I didnt sleep well Saturdaylocked myself in my bedroom and listened out for any sound. But William must have been exhausted. He slept solidly on the sofa.
– Ready for inspection, Margaret! he called.
Nothing more to saythe work was flawless.
– William, what was your trade? I asked, admiring the fresh bathroom.
– Physics teacher. Trained in London. At UCL.
– Is that University College London?
– It was just UCL in my time. About the tiles well, I suppose every self-respecting man should know how to do this sort of thing. At least, thats what I always thought.
I nodded and fetched the cash Id set aside. I wasnt being tightand I gave him as much as Id have paid any proper builder. William slipped the notes into his pocket without glancing at them, and started to put on his shoes. His clothes were dry now, and hed changed back.
– Hold onyoure just going to leave, just like that? I found myself almost indignant.
– Whats the trouble? he asked, those impossible blue eyes raised to meet mine again.
– At least have some dinner. Youve barely stopped working all day. You only had a cup of tea, you wanted to keep going.
William hesitated, then shrugged.
– Well, why not. Thank you.
So, I ate a bit of fish with himnot something I usually did after six, but it turned out I rather enjoyed his company. William was charming and clever, thoughtful and warm. But always, somehow, there was a sadness about hima sense of being lost, that didnt wash away with a shower or by sharing a quiet meal. Maybe time was all it would take.
– William, what really happened to you? Sorry if thats intrusive.
He paused before replying:
– You know, if I start telling it, Ill only make it sound heroic or silly or contrived. Ive heard so many stories like that these last eight years. The only thing ismines true. But whats the point?
– I suppose I just wonder how could a man like you, be in this position?
He looked at me closely, then, as if weighed down by his past. We both stood at the same time and fumbled about, he moving towards the door and I stepped in his path. We bumped into each other andwell, what happened next simply happened. At fifty-three, I never imagined passion could strike so wildly. Id thought real passion was for the youngkeen, burning, consuming passion.
Afterwards he told me, eight years ago, hed tried to help a brilliant but unfortunate student, whod fallen in with the wrong crowd. The lad was desperate to escape, but leaving a halfway criminal group is never easy. So William, as his form tutor, confronted the lot. The ringleader was a hard, amoral twenty-two-year-old. They didnt talkthey jumped William. But hed trained in judo for years; he handled them skillfully. Only, the leader came off badly, crashed into a brick wall, broke his spine. He didnt make it. William himself called the ambulance and the police. He truly believed it would be self-defence at most. After all, when youre ambushed by a gang
In the end, William got twelve yearsconvicted for manslaughter. He served eight with good behaviour. Even there, people get by, was all he said about prison.
But at home there was no welcome. His mother had died, having sold her flat and spent her last days at her brothers. His brothers wife had made it clear: That ex-cons not setting foot here. His own wife had long since divorced him and remarried. He left London for Manchester, but fate seemed almost set against him. He longed for real work again, but after eight years inside, no one would hire him. He tried to pick up handyman work round the village where hed washed up, but met with suspicion, sometimes disgusteven aggression. In the end, he had nowhere to sleep, nothing to eatthe friend hed stayed with when he first got out politely told him not to outstay his welcome.
– How longs it been like this? I asked, watching his cigarette glow.
– Oh maybe a fortnight.
He was smoking my cigarettes. Id a pack lying about, smoked maybe one every few years for stress. He wanted to pop out for his own, but I insisted he finish mine. I thought, what would it feel like, sleeping rough two weeks?
Its easier to confess things in the dark, with only the glow of a spent cigarette between you. That night, William and I slept together. No sense pretending otherwise.
– So, have you got a passport? I asked.
– Yes, he gave a wry chuckle. No address, though. Thats most of the problem.
William stayed. We got on splendidly. I got him registered with the council temporarily, and he found worksomething simple, in a hardware shop at first, but it was a start. Two days on, two offhe used his free time to tutor schoolchildren in physics and maths, building up a little clientele. In peace and love, two and a half months passed, and then my son arrived. Once hed taken in the situation, he pulled me aside for a chat.
– Mum, time to get rid of him.
– What? I was stunned.
We hadnt meddled in each others lives in years.
– Get rid, I said. You dont need a down-and-out under your roof. Why do you think hes here? The mans homeless. And you, youre a fool!
I slapped David.
– Dont you dare. You stay out of my life.
– Mum, youre forgetting Im your heir. Im not dividing anything with some random. What if you marry him? Suppose anything happens, hell have a claim.
– Planning my funeral, are you? I demanded, hurt and angry. What is it you think youre going to inherit? I might outlive you yet.
– Mum, dont make this awkward. I wont let you two live in peace. Ive my own interests, you know. Cant blame me. If youd found a neat, well-off gent I wouldnt complain. But this
– Oh, so now decencys measured by wealth in this house? Did I raise you for this?
– Mum Ive said my piece. David was as stern as Id ever seen him. Ill be back in a week. If hes still around, dont blame me for what happens next.
I went inside, blinking back tears.
– Is he a copper? William asked.
– Im sorry, I should have told you
– You didnt have to. Dont worry.
– Hes a detective in the Crown Prosecution Service. Hes good really, William. Just cautious. And protective.
– So, what are you going to do? he asked, worry in his face.
I sat at the table. Truthfully, I had no answer. If David said hed ruin us, he meant it. God knows how far hed goget William locked up again, maybe, if I didnt kick him out myself. I didnt want to believe my own son could be so ruthless, butwell, hed turned ugly in a way I barely recognised.
– Springtime William said. Have you made your mind up? If not, let me say something.
I nodded, swallowing tears. I felt cornered. I didnt want to let William go. But I didnt want to cause trouble for either of us, let alone take on a war with David.
– Ive got some money saved. You never asked about that. I couldnt get a plot here, not enough. But twenty miles out, I can. Well put up a temporary cabin for now, then start building. Ill keep tutoring, and well make do until our house is ready. What do you say?
I was speechless. He thought Id object to roughing it.
– William, Ive savings too. I can help build the house I said, thoughtful.
– I couldnt ask you to do that.
– But youre not asking! Im offering. For us.
He came round, hugged me, kissed the top of my head. I felt warmth, safety and love. Whod have thought you could find that, even at our age?
We sorted everything quickly. Bought the land. William insisted it should be in my name, but I wouldnt have it.
– I own property already. Just because my own son is keen on getting rid of us, doesnt mean I own nothing. You havent anything yet. Lets not take a chanceI have an heir, after all! I said wryly, thinking back to Davids words.
We set up the cabin, got electricity in, and William rolled up his sleeves and started to build. It turned out my savings werent quite enough, so William doubled his efforts tutoring, setting himself up in a corner where youd never guess he was teaching kids from a caravan. Every penny went into bricks and mortar. On warm summer evenings, wed spread a blanket on the grass and lie gazing at the stars.
– How do you feel? William would ask, his arms around me.
– Like Ive got a second wind, Id reply.
– I thought I was the one with a second wind! hed laugh. All I want is for you to feel my love.
And I did. I really did.
I popped back home for some things. Autumn was drawing inI needed coats, some bedding, a few kitchen bits. I found David sitting in the kitchen, smoking.
– Oh, hello, love. Im just in for a minute. Hows things?
He looked at me, as if seeing me afresh, tanned and slimmer.
– Mum, whats going on? You never call.
– Well, we dont usually, do we? Youre busy, you call if you want to talk.
– Why cant I ever find you at home?
– I dont live here anymore. Just came back to pick a few things up. Hope thats alright?
David was lost for words. I was lighter, somehow. Happier.
– Come visit when the house is finished, son. Right now, Ive got to dash.
Id already packed two bags and, hurrying past, I kissed his cheek and carried on.
– Mum, whats happened to you? he called after me.
I turned from the door, smiled broadly, and answered him.
– Second wind, Davey. And love. Dont forget love! Bye, sweetheart. I laughed out loud and hurried out.
No time to wastetoday we were building the porch.