**THE TENANT**
Edward Whitmore, a forty-year-old engineer, left his wife. He handed over the flat and all their possessions, keeping only his father’s old Morris Minor, into which he loaded a suitcase of personal belongings.
He didn’t want to dispute the division of property. “Our daughter’s growing up—let her have everything,” he said.
There had been no understanding between them for years. Lately, his wife had only ever said two words to him: “Give money.” Edward handed over his salary, bonuses, even his Christmas bonus, yet somehow, it was never enough. He committed to paying child support every month and helping his daughter however he could.
At first, he stayed with a friend, then was given a room in company lodgings. As a valued specialist, he was placed on the waiting list for a council flat—this was the early 1980s, when housing was still provided by the state.
Edward lived in those lodgings for two years while the company built a new block of flats. Then, the union chairman called him in.
“Edward,” he said, “you’re living alone, so you qualify for a one-bedroom flat. But we can offer you a small two-bedroom instead. You’re a top specialist, after all.”
Edward was taken aback. “Thank you. I’m just glad to finally have a place of my own.”
A month later, he packed his modest belongings—mostly technical books—loaded them into the Morris, and drove to his new home.
The lift wasn’t working yet, so he climbed the five flights of stairs, his heart racing as he reached flat seventy-two. He slid the key into the lock—but it didn’t fit.
From behind the door came faint shuffling and whispers. Edward knocked, demanding it be opened, but there was no reply. He fetched the caretaker, and together they forced the door open.
Inside, the flat was clearly occupied: belongings were strewn about haphazardly. A woman stood in the hall, eyes wide with fear at the sight of the two men.
“I won’t leave,” she said firmly. “You can’t throw me out—I’ve got my boys.”
Two lads, about seven and eight, peered nervously from behind her. Edward tried to explain the flat was legally his, that he had the deed.
“Try and throw us onto the street in the middle of winter, then!” she cried in desperation.
Edward left. At the union office, he explained everything. Soon, the truth came out: the woman—Lydia—was a widow. Her husband had died, and the condemned terrace house where she lived with her sons was barely habitable, its walls icy no matter how much they tried to heat it. She had begged the council for years, but her name kept being pushed down the list. In the end, she had broken into the new building.
“We’ll evict her,” the union chairman said firmly. “Take her to court if we must. It’ll take time, but she’ll go.”
“Is there no peaceful solution?” Edward asked. “Perhaps if I spoke to her.”
“Talk if you like,” the chairman shrugged. “But these single mothers—they’re like wild animals when it comes to their kids. The law means nothing to them.”
Edward returned, hoping to reason with her. The broken lock was just being repaired.
“Let’s talk properly,” he said. “You must see this isn’t right—this is my home.”
“And you think it’s fair you get a flat just like that?”
“Of course it’s fair! I’ve worked twenty years for this. I have the papers.”
“My boys and I were freezing in that rotting house. Where else could we go?”
“But why *my* flat?”
She lifted her chin. “Because it was empty. You’ll get another one—clever man like you.”
Edward left empty-handed. Meanwhile, the eviction process began. Officials visited Lydia, warning her to leave.
When Edward heard she’d be forced back into that freezing house, he went to see her again. This time, he found her broken, red-eyed, the boys clinging to her.
“You’ll have to leave,” he said gently. “I’ve nowhere else to go either.”
She sank onto a chair, exhausted.
“Why won’t the council help you?” Edward asked.
“I’ve begged them,” she whispered. “But that smug official just waves me away—‘Wait your turn,’ he says.”
“Right,” Edward said suddenly. “We’re going there now.”
To his own surprise, timid Edward marched into the housing office, Lydia in tow. He spun a tale to the secretary and barged into the official’s office.
“Her turn *has* come,” Edward insisted. “Check the records if you don’t believe me.”
The official softened, shuffling papers. “Ah yes, just a slight delay. She’ll have her flat by spring—a nice two-bedroom in the new estate.”
Edward inspected the documents himself. “If she doesn’t get that flat,” he warned, “I’ll make sure there’s an inquiry.”
Back at the flat, Lydia began packing. “We’ll manage two more months in the old place,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”
Edward hesitated, then spoke. “Stay in the lounge. I’ll take the bedroom. Once your place is ready, you’ll go. And no rent—just keep the place tidy.”
Lydia burst into tears.
From then on, Edward worked late, often returning to a warm meal waiting on the stove. In the mornings, Lydia made breakfast for them all. He tried to pay her, but she refused. “Let me thank you this way,” she said.
One evening, his ex-wife turned up unannounced.
“So the rumours are true,” she sneered. “You’ve taken in some stray.”
Edward guided her firmly back outside. When it was clear she had no real reason to visit, he sent her away.
Lydia was flustered, but Edward reassured her. “My ex and our daughter have a lovely flat. They’re fine.”
Come spring, Lydia got her new home. Edward helped her move. As she left, she clung to his hands, weeping. “Thank you, Edward. For your kindness, for your heart. For proving good men still exist.”
Soon after, Edward broke his leg badly and was hospitalised. Colleagues visited, as did his daughter. Then Lydia arrived, shyly perching on a chair, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.
“I brought you dinner,” she murmured, unpacking shepherd’s pie and salad.
Edward took her hand. “Two months under one roof, and we never shared a proper meal. Once I’m home, I’ll host you properly.”
They married later that year. The boys gained a father; Lydia, a devoted husband. A year on, another son was born, and they exchanged both flats for a four-bedroom house. Every evening, Edward returned to a home filled with warmth, laughter, and the certainty that kindness, once given, finds its way back tenfold.
