The Lodger

THE LODGER

It was an early winter evening, glowing faintly on the quiet pavements of a leafy suburb in Cambridge. The weather was rather pleasant for the seasonjust a touch of frost in the air, but thered been sunshine all day long. Now, as the sun softened towards the horizon, its final golden rays sparkled in the crisp, white snowflakes dusting the path.

I find I enjoy this kind of weather, and so I strolled along at my own pace. Tall, upright, just past sixty, I cut a striking figure, if I may say so, in my smart leather boots and a splendid mink coatthe sort that would make anyone look twice. There were still traces of youth about my face, too, with the faint pride of a woman who knows her own worth.

Ah, those years of youthful romance are well behind me, but I, Margaret Collins, still find joy in life, even in these quieter years. My husband passed away a decade ago, and I mourned him dearlyhard not to, after so many good years and after raising a wonderful son together.

That son left for London for university and stayed there, married, and blessed me with two grandchildren. I see them too seldom; his job keeps him busy and far away. Still, I dont let myself fall into despondency. There is joy to be found at any age. Im over sixty, yes, and retiredthe pension isnt grand, but its enough. My son occasionally insists on sending me a little extra, though I wave him off as best I can.

He and his family stayed with me over Christmas and New Year, and as a gift, they gave me this luxurious mink coat, which I was now wearing with more than a hint of pride. I purposefully walked a little slower, pleased with how well I looked for a lady of my age.

I wasnt simply out for a walk; I was heading to collect the rent from my lodgers. You see, I own two flatsone in which I live and the other, a cosy one-bedroom place, which I have been letting to a young couple for the past five years. They moved in as newlyweds and now have a chubby two-year-old boy. In my little handbag nestled a chocolate bar, a treat for the little lad, Henry.

Finding decent tenants is no easy matter, as Ive learnt from experience. Over the years, Ive been left with unpaid bills, or come back to find the place in a dreadful state. Having learnt the hard way, I collect the rent in person each monthpartly so I can check everythings in order, and partly so I can be sure the bills are paid. Fortunately, with these tenants Im able to relax a little. Laura, the wife, is particularly diligent and keeps the place spotless.

Laura seems scarcely older than a girl, though, being responsible for the lease, I know shes twenty-four. Shes slim, fair, with clear blue eyes, and sometimes I struggle to believe shes even old enough to have a toddler.

Shes always cheerful, pays on time, and keeps the flat immaculate. Her husband is rarely around when I calleither slouched on the sofa in front of the telly or out altogether. He greets me with a mutter but doesnt say much else. I suspect he likes his pints, but thats not really my concern, so long as rent is paid.

Reaching their block of flats, I took the lift to the fifth floor and found myself thinking of a little treat when I got the rentmaybe some nice smoked salmon for my tea. That money covers the utility bills and leaves enough for a few indulgences. I do like a bit of salmon, or some prawns, and why not treat myself? At my age, who knows how many such pleasures are left?

Still musing about what was left of the day and whether Id have time to stop by the fishmongers, I pressed the bell. I have a spare key, but with good tenants like these, I never barge in. I prefer to give a polite ring and wait to be admitted.

This time, it took longer than usual before someone answered. I found myself wondering if they might be out, but eventually, Laura opened the door, and I was taken aback. Her eyes were red and narrow, her cheeks swollen, and her hands shook as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Is everything all right, Laura? Youre looking a bit peaky. Has something happened?” I asked gently as I stepped inside.

To be honest, my first thought was that she might be hungover or ill after too much celebrating. Surely the New Year festivities hadnt lingered this long?

“No, Mrs. Collins. Things arent all right,” she said, voice trembling, and walked unsteadily back into the sitting room.

As I followed her, I noticed how untidy the usually spotless flat looked. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, where Henry sat among them with his toys. The wardrobe hung open, shelves half empty.

Laura handed me a collection of paid bill receipts with a still-trembling hand. “Everythings paid, but I cant give you the rent this month. I just cant. May I owe you? Henry and I will move out tomorrow.”

Her face twisted, as if close to another bout of tears, but she looked wrung out, entirely out of tears. That explained the swelling in her faceit was grief, not alcohol.

My heart twisted. “Good heavens, whatevers happened? Why are you moving out? Wheres your husband, Laura?”

She perched on the edge of the sofa, her face in her hands, and struggled to keep control as she spoke. “Ive been unwell for months, Mrs. Collins. So tired all the time I finally went to the GP once Henry started nursery. They sent me for tests. Its cancer, Mrs. Collins.”

She paused, her shoulders shaking. “When I told Andrew, he lost itshouted that he wouldnt go through it, that his aunt died of it and he couldnt watch that again. He packed up and left, said hed file for divorce. And I have no money. My maternity pay is almost nothing, I spent the last of it on the utility bills. Ill pack tonight and take Henry to my grans in Lincolnshire tomorrow. I cant pay you and Im so, so sorry.”

I stared at herthis slender, birdlike girl, all alone, her son playing at her feet. For a second, I thought of the salmon at the fishmongers and how Id need to skip it for a whilesilly, what did it matter now? There are things in life far more important.

I sat beside her, laid a hand gently on her shoulder. “Look at me. Enough tears. Your husband is a cad and this diagnosis is frightening, but you have your son and that means you must be strong. What are your next steps? Have you been assigned treatment? Where do you plan to go?”

Laura looked at me and then crumpled again. “Im meant to check into the hospital tomorrow for a biopsyto confirm the stage. But I cant. I have no place for Henry to stay. My granny is all I have, and shes not well enough. Theres nowhere to leave him, and I cant afford to stay here. II’ll just head out to Lincolnshire with Henry tomorrow and skip the hospital; theres a local nurse there if I need her.”

I couldnt help but bristle. “Dont be daft. What use is the local nurse for this sort of thing? Are you really thinking of giving up, leaving your son alone? Just because your husband walked away?”

She brushed at her eyes. “What choice do I have? I could, I suppose, leave Henry with my gran in town, but she cant manage. I need to hospitalise for a couple of days for the tests. But I cant. Theres no one to help and I havent the money.”

“Absolute nonsense,” I scoffed. “Were not in the wilds of nowhere. There are people about, and not all as heartless as your husband. Ill help you. Go in for your tests and dont fret. Ill stay here with Henry for as long as you need, and when its done, you can return. Forget about the rent for now. Ill manage quite welltheres enough to eat, Im not at risk of starving. Start tidying up and get yourself together. Ill come round early, six oclock alright? Let me know which nursery Henry goes to. Ill manage just fine with him.”

Laura gawked at me with eyes swollen from weeping, struggling to believe what she was hearing. Shed always thought me rather grand, perhaps coldwell-groomed, well-dressed, not someone to take pity. She must have imagined Id scold her for not paying, but instead, I offered help most relations would balk at.

“Well? Dont just gawp. Pull yourself together. You have a hard road ahead, best to start walking now. No sense in both of us snivelling,” I chided, feeling a lump in my own throat.

She nestled up against my shoulder, speechless, and I had to steel myselfIm not one for sentimentality.

“Ill take my leave, then,” I stood. “Get ready. Ill be here at six.”

That evening, I did pop to the shops, but not for any smoked salmon. Instead, my basket filled with the sort of things a child needschicken for soup, rice, minceready to care for Henry while his mum was gone.

The boy was delightfula happy, obedient little soul. He clearly missed his mother, of course, but I found myself thinking about Laura constantly while she was away at the hospital. I took her troubles to heartso young, so unwell, and through no fault of her own.

They took a biopsy; two days later, Laura was back. Then came the dreadful uncertainty, waiting for her results. I wont forget the delight in her voice when she called.

“Mrs. Collins, we know! Its stage one. They think Ill only need an operationtheres a real chance Ill make a full recovery!”

“You see?” I breathed out. “You wanted to throw everything away, but now theres hope. Your husband left too soonhis true colours shown at last, and that’s no bad thing. So, when is the operation? Ill take Henry to mine while youre in hospital. That flat isnt comfortable for me anyway.”

“The waiting list is a month long. Mrs. Collins, perhaps I should go to my grans and you could find new tenants? I hate living rent-free.”

“Oh Laura, dont be ridiculous! Youll stay here and wait for your operation. Do you need any groceries? If you do, let me know.”

“Honestly, youve done so much. Ill never be able to thank you,” she sniffled.

* * *

A year and a half later, the best restaurant in Cambridge echoed with laughteryoud never have guessed it was a wedding. I sat at the head table in my pale summer suit, beside the brideLauralooking as proud as if she were my own daughter.

She was beautiful, in white with a sparkling tiara in her thick, curling hairhealthy and radiant. Today, she was marrying the very doctor who had performed her life-saving operation a year and a half ago.

Back then, Laura doubted himsaid he was far too young, shed hoped for someone older, more experienced. But there was little choice, and later, the young doctor began taking a gentle interest in her. Laura was hesitantafter her husbands betrayal, she found it hard to trust. For a long while, the only person she had faith in was me.

After the operation there followed more tests, rehab, and only after half a year did she start working again. She insisted on paying me rent, though by then shed become like family, and I would have been ashamed to take it. Eventually she and Henry moved in with her new husband, leaving me to find a new lodger. But it was clear to everyone how much her new husband adored herand he was doing well for himself, too. The wedding was a grand affair.

I quietly helped myself to a serving of the smoked salmonmy long time favourite, a little treat I had denied myself during the tougher months. But really, what do such things matter? No luxury or comfort can compare with what Ive gaineda nearly daughter and a sweet little grandson. My son seldom visits, but now theres Laura and Henry, and I know they wont leave me behind.

Im not typically teary, but I nearly wept when Laura rose from the table to say a toast.

I want to speak of someone so dear to me, she began, her voice rough with emotion. Without her, I wouldnt be here at all. Mrs. Collins, youre the mother I never had. I thank God for you, for our meeting, and for everything you have done for me.

Writing all this, I realisetrue wealth isnt measured by what you have, but by those you are able to help. I may have given up a few treats, but what I received in love and new family cannot be matched in pounds or pence. That is the lesson I carry with me now, each day.