It never crossed Eleanors mind to suggest that Edward move in with her. Dating was one thingliving together quite another. That Saturday, she waited for him as usual, expecting their weekly stroll. But when she opened the door, her breath caughtthere he stood with two large suitcases.
Eleanor settled into her armchair, flicking through old photos on her phone. Here they were in Hyde Park, feeding the ducks. Another showed them walking along the Thames, and there, a memory of their mushroom-picking trip in the countryside. Six months had slipped by unnoticed.
Theyd met on a dating siteher at sixty-one, him at sixty-three. Both divorced, their children grown and living independently. Edward had charmed her straight awaycultured, well-read, with a dry wit. He wasnt looking for a mother for his children or a housekeeper. Just companionship with someone interesting.
They met two or three times a weekthe theatre, art galleries, cafés, walks through London, weekend visits to her friends cottage in the Cotswolds. Eleanor enjoyed the ease of itno obligations, just warmth between them.
“Tell me, Eleanor, how you spend your days,” Edward had asked early on.
“Quietly, peacefully. Ive lived alone five years nowIm used to it.”
“Dont you ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But I have friends, my daughters visit. And now theres you.”
“Thats good to hear.”
After his divorce, Edward rented a cramped flat in an ageing building. He often grumbled about the landladypicky, refusing repairs, yet hiking the rent.
“What can I do?” hed say. “No place of my own. After the split, everything went to my ex-wife. Her parents bought that flat years ago, and good luck proving I paid for all the renovations.”
“Have you thought about buying somewhere?”
“Where would I get that kind of money?”
She understood. Her three-bedroom flat in Kensington had taken a lifetime to earn. With her daughters long gone, space was no issue.
Yet it never occurred to Eleanor to invite Edward to live with her. Dating was one thingsharing a home, entirely another.
That Saturday, when she opened the door to find him with those suitcases, her stomach dropped.
“Edward, whats happened?”
“May I come in? Ill explain.”
He left the cases in the hall and sat on the sofa.
“My landladys selling the place. Gave me a week to clear out.”
“And now?”
“Now Ive nowhere to go. Cant find another flat on short notice, and moneys tight.”
She saw where this was headed.
“Eleanor, Ive been thinkingweve been serious for six months, know each other well. Why not try living together?”
“Together?” she repeated.
“Yes. Youve space. Im not a freeloaderIll contribute to groceries, bills.”
“Edward, weve never discussed this.”
“Why discuss it prematurely? Lifes handed us the solution.”
She felt flustered. This wasnt what shed signed up for.
“I need time to think.”
“Whats to think? We care for each other.”
“Caring and cohabiting arent the same.”
“Why not? At our age, its time to settle.”
“Settle what?”
“Our relationship. If were dating, we ought to be together properly.”
She glanced at the suitcases. Hed decided without her, brought his things, presented a *fait accompli*.
“What if I refuse?”
“Refuse happiness?”
“Refuse someone moving in without so much as asking.”
“Dont be angry. I meant well. Circumstances forced my hand.”
“Circumstances dont forcepeople create them.”
“Meaning?”
“That we shouldve talked *before* you packed your life into two cases.”
He fell silent, weighing her words.
“Fine. Lets talk now. I propose we live together.”
“And I decline.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy my own space. I enjoy *us*but not under one roof.”
“But why? We suit each other.”
“For outings, theatre, weekends away. Not for sharing a home.”
“Whats the difference?”
“The difference is that daily life means habits, routines, compromises.”
“So? Wed adapt.”
“Thats just itI dont *want* to adapt. Im content as I am.”
He looked wounded.
“What if I proposed properly? Marriage?”
“What for?”
“For respectability. Doing things right.”
“Edward, a wedding ring changes nothing. I still wouldnt want to live together.”
“Then whats the point of us?”
“The same as always. We meet, we talk, we enjoy each others company.”
“And then?”
“Then we keep doing it.”
“Thats not serious!”
“Its serious enough for *me*.”
“Not for me. I want stability.”
“What stability?” She sat opposite him.
“The usual sort. A shared lifebreakfasts together, plans for the future.”
“I dont want daily breakfasts with anyone. Or to bend to someone elses plans.”
“But youre alone!”
“Im *not* alone. I have my daughters, my friends, *you*. Loneliness and living solo arent the same.”
“I dont see the difference.”
“The difference is choice. Right now, I choose when and with whom I spend time. Under your plan, that choice vanishes.”
“Eleanor, at sixty, we must think of wholl be there in old age.”
“I *am* thinking. It neednt be a husband.”
“Who, then?”
“My daughters. A carer. Social services. Options exist.”
“Thats not the same!”
“Not for you, perhaps. For me, its enough.”
He stood, pacing the room.
“So youd have me keep renting, seeing you on weekends?”
“Id have you live as you please. Well meet when *both* of us wish to.”
“And if I cant afford rent?”
“Thats your problem, not mine.”
“Thats cruel, Eleanor.”
“Its honest. Im not responsible for your housing.”
“But were together!”
“*Dating*. That doesnt make me liable for your life.”
He sank back onto the sofa, silent.
“If I *do* find a flatwould we continue?”
“Of course. If we both want to.”
“And until thenmight I stay here awhile?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
He understood thenshe wouldnt bend. Taking his cases, he moved to the door.
“So I must hunt for both a home and a new relationship.”
“Perhaps.”
“Eleanorwont you regret this?”
“No.”
He left. He never called again. Eleanor returned to her quiet life, undisturbed. At sixty, she valued peace over romance, freedom over company.
What would you have done? Share your thoughts below.
