THE LODGER
Edward Wilson, a forty-year-old engineer, left his wife. He gave up the flat and all their belongings, taking only his father’s old Ford and a suitcase of personal items. He didn’t bother with the legal division of assets: “Our daughter’s growing up—let her have everything.”
His marriage had long been strained. Lately, his wife only ever said two words: “Give money.” Edward handed over his salary, bonuses, even his Christmas bonus—yet somehow, it was never enough. He agreed to pay child support monthly and help his daughter separately.
At first, he stayed with a friend, then was given a room in a company hostel. As a valued specialist, he was put on the housing list. This was in the 1980s—back when council flats were still allocated for free.
Edward lived in the hostel for two years while the company built a new block of flats. Then the union chairman called him in: “Edward, you’re single, so you qualify for a one-bed. But we can offer you a small two-bed instead. You’re a top-tier specialist—take the keys.”
Edward was taken aback. “Thank you. I’m just glad to have my own place.”
A month later, he packed his modest belongings—mostly technical manuals—loaded them into the same old Ford, and drove to his new flat. The lift wasn’t working yet, so he climbed to the fifth floor, heart pounding as he approached flat seventy-two. He slid the key into the lock.
“It won’t turn,” he muttered, confused. Then he heard whispers and shuffling behind the door. He knocked, demanding entry, but silence followed. He fetched the caretaker, who helped force the door open. Inside, the flat was barely furnished, belongings strewn about. A woman stood in the hallway, flanked by two boys, aged seven and eight, all wide-eyed with fear.
“I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me,” she snapped. “I’ve got kids.”
Edward tried to reason with her, explaining the flat was legally his, but she refused to listen. “Try throwing me and my boys out into the cold—see how that goes,” she shot back.
He left. At the union office, he explained the situation. It turned out the woman—Louise—was a widow. Her husband had died, and she’d been living in a condemned prefab with a few alcoholics. The place was freezing, no matter how much they heated it. She’d been on the council waiting list for years, constantly pushed back. Desperate, she’d broken into the new build.
“We’ll evict her,” the chairman said firmly. “It’ll take time, but it’ll happen.”
“Can’t we settle this peacefully?” Edward suggested.
“Good luck. These single mums act like they’re above the law.”
Edward returned, finding Louise as workmen fixed the broken lock. “This isn’t your flat,” he said gently. “You know that, right?”
“And you think it’s fair you got it?” she fired back.
“I’ve worked twenty years for this. But I get it—you’ve got kids. Why my flat, though?”
“Just luck, I suppose. They’ll give you another one—you’re the clever one at the factory.”
He left empty-handed. Eviction proceedings began, but when Edward learned Louise would be forced back into that freezing prefab, he went back. This time, he found her weeping, the boys clinging to her.
“The council’s dragging its feet,” she admitted. “That smug housing officer just tells me to wait.”
“Let’s go,” Edward said abruptly.
At the council offices, usually timid Edward felt a surge of determination. He bluffed his way past the secretary and confronted the officer. “Her turn’s come up. Why the delay?”
The officer backtracked, promising a two-bed by spring. Edward checked the paperwork—it was legit.
Back at the flat, Louise started packing. “We’ll manage,” she muttered.
“Stay,” Edward said. “Take the living room—I’ll have the bedroom. Just leave when your flat’s ready. No rent.”
She burst into tears.
Edward worked late most nights, but supper was always waiting. In the mornings, Louise made breakfast for him and the boys. He tried to pay her, but she refused. “Let me thank you this way,” she insisted.
One evening, his ex-wife turned up unannounced. “So you’ve taken in a lodger, have you?” she sneered.
Edward escorted her out. When Louise fretted, he reassured her: “She and our daughter have a lovely two-bed. They’re fine.”
Come spring, Louise got her new flat. Edward helped her move. Tearfully, she thanked him: “You’ve got a heart of gold.”
Soon after, Edward broke his leg badly and was hospitalised. Colleagues visited; so did his daughter. Then Louise arrived, hesitating by his bed. “Brought you dinner,” she said, unpacking mashed potatoes, gravy, and salad.
Edward took her hand. “We lived together two months but never shared a meal. Once I’m out, you’re all invited.”
They married. The boys gained a father; Louise, a devoted husband. A year later, another son arrived. They swapped both flats for a four-bed house. Every evening, Edward returned to a home full of laughter—and under one roof, they were all content.
