The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to go—truly nowhere. “A couple of nights at the train station, maybe. And then?” she thought anxiously. Suddenly, a saving thought struck her: “The allotment! How could I have forgotten? Although… ‘allotment’ is a stretch. More like a half-collapsed old shed. Still, better to go there than the station.” Settling into a commuter train, Nina pressed her head to the cold window and closed her eyes, heavy memories threatening to overwhelm her: two years ago, she lost both parents, left alone without support. With no way to pay for university, she dropped out and got a job at the local market. After all she’d endured, fortune finally smiled on Nina, and soon she met her true love. Tim was kind and decent. Within two months, they had a modest wedding. Life seemed like it should finally go right… but fate had another test in store. Tim suggested they sell Nina’s late parents’ city-centre flat and start a business. He painted such an attractive picture Nina had no doubts—she handed everything over, dreaming that soon they’d be financially secure, maybe even start a family. “If we get back on our feet, we can think about having a baby. I’m longing to be a mum,” she dreamed. But Tim’s business failed. Frequent rows over the lost money quickly tore the couple apart. Eventually, Tim brought home another woman and told Nina to leave. At first, Nina thought about calling the police, but realised there was nothing to accuse her husband of: she’d sold the flat and handed him the cash herself… *** Arriving at the quiet country station, Nina trudged down the deserted platform. Early spring was in the air, but the garden plots were still abandoned. After three years, her family’s little allotment was totally overgrown. “That’s alright, I’ll sort things out. It’ll be just like it was,” she told herself—though she realised nothing could ever truly be the same. She found the old key under the porch, but the sagging wooden door wouldn’t budge. After failing to open it, Nina slumped on the steps and burst into tears. Just then, she spotted smoke and heard noise from the neighbouring plot. Delighted that neighbours were there, Nina rushed over. “Auntie Rae, are you home?” she called. Instead, a scruffy elderly man appeared in the yard, tending a small fire beneath a battered pot. “Who are you? Where’s Auntie Rae?” Nina asked, stumbling back. “Don’t be afraid. Please, don’t call the police. I’m not doing any harm—just staying out here in the garden, not in the house,” he replied in a surprisingly cultured baritone, the voice of an educated man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked bluntly. “Yes, you’re right,” the man answered softly, looking away. “Do you live nearby? Don’t worry, I won’t trouble you.” “What’s your name?” “Michael.” “Do you have a last name?” “Middle name? Fedorovich,” he replied, surprised. Nina took in Michael Fedorovich: though his clothes were worn, they were clean enough. The man appeared reasonably tidy and well-kept. “I don’t know who to ask for help…” Nina sighed. “What’s happened?” asked the man kindly. “The door’s stuck… I can’t open it.” “Let me take a look,” the homeless man offered. “I’d be grateful,” she said, desperate. As Michael worked on the door, Nina watched and reflected: “Who am I to judge? We’re both homeless—we have more in common than I thought…” “Nina, you’re all set!” Michael said with a smile, pushing the door open. “Wait—are you planning to stay here overnight?” “Well, yes—where else am I meant to go?” “Does the place have heating?” “There’s a stove—I think,” Nina replied uncertainly, realising how little she knew. “And firewood?” “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s alright. Go inside. I’ll figure something out,” Michael said decisively. Nina cleaned for about an hour, feeling cold and discouraged. But Michael soon returned with firewood—and to her surprise, she was glad not to be completely alone. Michael got the old stove working. Soon, the cottage was warm. “There you are,” he explained, “just keep adding a little wood as needed. At night, let it die down—the warmth will last.” “And where will you go? The neighbours’?” “Yes. Don’t judge too harshly—I’ll stay on their allotment for a bit. Don’t want to go back to the city or stir up old memories.” “Stay for dinner and a cup of hot tea before you go,” Nina said resolutely. The old man agreed, sitting by the stove while Nina made tea. “Sorry if this is too personal,” she began, “but you don’t seem like the sort of man to end up on the street. What happened?” Michael shared his story: he had been a university lecturer all his life, devoted to research and teaching. Old age and loneliness crept up silently. A year ago, his niece began visiting, promising to look after him if he left his flat to her. Eager for family, he agreed. She convinced him to sell his small city flat for a country house—something she’d ‘already found’—and to deposit the money at the bank. At the bank, she slipped in alone with his bag, and simply didn’t return. When he went to her former home, a stranger answered: his niece had sold up and left months ago. “So that’s my sad tale,” Michael finished. “Since then, I’ve lived rough—I still can’t believe I have no home.” “I thought I was the only one with such luck…,” Nina replied, and told her own story. “Not great, is it? At least I’ve had a life. You’re young, everything’s ahead of you,” he encouraged. “Enough sorrow,” Nina smiled, “let’s have dinner!” She watched him eat, feeling a surge of pity for his loneliness. “How awful, to end up with no one, alone on the streets,” she thought. “Nina, I could help you get back into university. I have friends there—you could study on a scholarship,” Michael offered. “I can’t meet my old colleagues as I am, but I’ll write a letter to the dean—an old friend. He’ll help you.” “Thank you, I’d be so grateful!” “Thank you for supper—and for listening,” Michael said, rising to leave. “Wait. Please don’t go. It’s not right for you to sleep outside. I’ve got three rooms—pick whichever you like. Honestly, I’m scared to stay here on my own, and I don’t know the first thing about this place… Will you stay?” “I will. I won’t leave you alone,” Michael replied, seriously. *** Two years passed… Nina passed her exams and travelled home for her summer break. She still lived part-time at the cottage, while spending term-time at the student halls. “Hello!” she called joyfully, hugging Grandpa Michael. “Nina, my dear! Why didn’t you call? I’d have met you at the station. Did you pass?” Michael asked. “Almost all distinctions!” she beamed. “I bought cake—put the kettle on, let’s celebrate!” They drank tea together and Michael shared his garden plans. “I’ve planted a grapevine—going to build a little summerhouse. It’ll be nice and cosy,” he chatted. “Brilliant. You’re the boss here, do what you like! Me, I’m just visiting,” Nina laughed. Michael Fedorovich was a new man now—no longer alone. He had a home, and a granddaughter in Nina. And Nina, too, had found family—a grandfather who saved her in dark times. She was grateful fate had sent her Grandpa Michael, who became her strength, family, and friend.

HOMELESS

Emma wandered the streets with nowhere to go. Absolutely nowhere. I could spend a couple of nights at the station, she mulled over, but what then? Suddenly, a glint of hope flashed in her mind: The cottage! How could I have forgotten? Well cottage is putting it rather grandlyit’s more a tumbledown shed than a country home. Still, its better to go there than loiter around Kings Cross, she reasoned.

She boarded the Southern Rail, pressed her cheek against the frosted pane, and closed her eyes. Waves of heavy thoughts washed over herthe loss of her parents two years before, the complete absence of comfort or support. Shed had to give up university, unable to afford her tuition, and took work stacking produce at the market.

But after all those hardships, fortune seemed to smile at Emma at last. Soon she met Edward, a decent and gentle man, and after a short courtship, they wed in a modest little ceremony.

It might have seemed her troubles were over. Life, however, had another twist in store. Edward proposed they sell the flat Emma inherited from her parentsa prime spot in the city centreto start their own business. He painted such a beautiful picture of their future that Emma hadnt a shadow of doubt about his wisdom, believing poverty would become a thing of the past. Once were established, we might even think about a baby. Nothing in the world I want more than to be a mother! Emma often dreamt.

But Edwards business rapidly collapsed. As their savings evaporated, rows grew ever more frequent. It wasnt long before Edward brought another young woman home and told Emma to leave.

Emmas first thought was to call the police, but then she realisedshe had nothing to accuse him of. She had sold the flat and put the money into his hands willingly.

***

Arriving at Broadfield, Emmas footsteps echoed along the deserted platform. It was early spring, the chill clinging to everything, and not a soul in sightthe cottage garden had become an overgrown wilderness in the three years since shed last visited. No matter, Ill tidy up. I can make it just like new, she resolved, fully aware that nothing would ever be quite as it was.

Emma fished the old key from under the porch, but the warped front door refused to budge. After wrestling with it, exhausted, she sat herself on the step and began to cry.

Then, smoke curled up from the neighbouring plot. Straining to listen, she heard the shuffling and clatter of activity. Emmas hopes soaredcould the neighbours be back? She hurried over.

Aunt Mabel? Are you here? she called out.

Encountering an unkempt older man in the overrun yard, Emma froze in shock. He sat by a small campfire, heating water in a battered enamel mug.

Who are you? Wheres Aunt Mabel? she asked, retreating a little.

No reason to be frightened, he replied, his voice deep and unexpectedly genteel. Please, dont call the police. Im not doing any harm. I dont touch the houseI just sleep in the garden here.

She found herself surprised by his well-spoken manner. He had a certain dignity, despite his worn clothinga quiet, almost scholarly air.

Are you homeless? Emma blurted out, immediately regretting her candour.

He nodded quietly, not meeting her gaze. You live next door? he asked gently. I wont trouble you.

Whats your name?

Michael.

And your surname? Emma pressed.

Surname? he echoed, bemused. Fletcher. Michael Fletcher.

Emma studied Michael Fletcher. His clothes, frayed but fairly clean, and his hair, albeit wild, showed some care.

I dont know who else to ask she sighed heavily.

Whats happened? he said, concern softening his features.

The front doors stuck I cant get inside.

If you dont mind, Ill take a look, offered the old man.

Id be grateful, Emma said, her voice thick with desperation.

While Michael wrangled with the door, Emma sat on the weatherbeaten bench, pondering the stranger. Who am I to judge him? she thought. Im just as homelessour situations arent so different after all.

Miss Emma, its done! Michael Fletcher beamed, pushing the door open. But, are you truly planning to stay here tonight?

Well, yes. Where else would I go? Emma was taken aback.

Is there heating at least?

Theres an old wood-burneror so I think Emma admitted, shamefaced. She hardly knew where to begin with such things.

I see. Any wood?

No idea, she murmured, defeated.

Stay indoors; Ill sort something out, Michael said firmly, heading away.

Emma spent an hour trying to make the place somewhat habitable, but the damp cold seemed ingrained in the walls. She was beginning to despair when Michael reappeared, arms full of logs. For the first time, Emma felt a genuine sense of relief at having another soul nearby.

He cleaned out the old stove and got a fire going. Soon, the cottage was infused with warmth.

Thats it! The stoves burning steady nowjust feed it a few logs through the night. Before you sleep, bank it down. Youll be fine till morning, Michael explained.

And you? Will you stay with the neighbours? Emma inquired.

Yes. Dont mind me. Ill stay in the next garden. London holds no cheer for me Id rather not dig up old wounds.

Stay. Have some supper with me, and a cup of hot tea before you go, Emma insisted.

Michael nodded. He removed his coat and sat quietly by the stove.

Im sorry if Im prying, Emma began, butyou dont seem the sort to be living rough. Why are you here? Dont you have family?

Michael Fletcher told her hed spent his life lecturing at university, lost in his research until, suddenly, he was utterly alone.

About a year ago, his niece visited. She gently hinted at helping him, hoping perhaps hed leave his flat to her one day. Delighted, Michael agreed. She suggested selling his old, stuffy city flat and moving to a charming house in the suburbs, set in an apple-filled garden. Hed always yearned for peace and fresh air, so he jumped at the chance. She urged him to put the money in her caresafer than carrying it around.

Uncle Mike, wait here on the bench while I talk to the bank manager, shed said, scooping up the cash-laden envelope. She vanished inside. An hour, then two, then three passed. Finally, he ventured inside. The bank was empty. A back door stood ajar.

Michael couldnt believe his own blood could betray him so– but it was true. Hed gone to her old flat and found a stranger living there. She left months ago. Sold up ages back, the woman shrugged.

Michael paused, his voice trembling. And thats how it happened. Ive been on the streets ever since. Even now, I cant quite grasp that I no longer have a home.

Emma shook her head. Youre not alone; my storys the same really, she confided, sharing her tale in turn.

Its a sorry state, but youre youngfar too young to be ruined by this, Michael said. Dont lose hope. Problems can be solved. Ive had my time, but youyours is still to come.

Enough of gloom! Lets eat, Emma smiled, fetching a saucepan of pasta and sausages.

Emma watched as Michael devoured his supper, her heart twisting with pity. There was such loneliness in himsuch helplessness.

How terrifying it must be: to find yourself utterly alone, unwanted by anyone. The thought chilled her.

Emma, I can help you get back into university, Michael spoke up. I still have friends at Kings Collegemight be able to get you a scholarship. I cant show my face there looking like this, but Ill write to the deanConrad, an old friend of mine. Hell look out for you.

Thank you! That would be wonderful! Emma exclaimed, hope flickering.

And thank you, for supper and your ear. Ill be off nowits getting late, Michael said, rising.

Wait. Pleasedont go back out there, Emma whispered. There are three big rooms here. Take whichever you prefer. Besides Im afraid, really, of the loneliness. And this stove confuses me. Please, dont leave me here like this.

No. I wont, Michael responded gravely.

***

Two years drifted by. Emma had passed her exams with flying colours and was on the way to the cottage for the summer holiday. She still lived at the college hall, but came at weekends and long breaks.

Hello! she called, embracing Grandpa Mike warmly.

My darling Emma! Why didnt you ring? Id have fetched you from the station. Well? Did you pass? asked Michael, beaming.

Yes! Nearly all top marks! Emma boasted. And look, I brought a cakeput the kettle on, lets celebrate!

They sat over tea and shared their news.

I planted grapevinesover there, see? Ill build a little arbour. Itll be peaceful, perfect for tea on sunny days, Michael dreamed aloud.

Lovely! This is your kingdom now. Do as you wish. MeI flit in and out Emma laughed lightly.

Michael Fletcher was a new man now: happy, busy, no longer alone. He had a home, and he had a granddaughter in Emma. She, too, had come alive again; Michael was her family now, the one shed desperately needed. Emma was grateful fate had brought her Grandpa Mike, who filled the aching gap her parents had left, and was there to hold her up when she nearly fell.