Marina Harrington stared at the eviction notice as if it were a death sentence. A tiny shared dorm room at the local college—her new home after forty years in her own flat. Not just any room, but one shared with two fellow lecturers.
“Where am I supposed to keep all my things?” she sighed, addressing the caretaker, old Mr. Thompson, a kindly man with a bushy grey moustache.
“Mrs. Harrington, love, what else can we do?” Mr. Thompson spread his hands. “The halls are bursting, the faculty wing’s renovations are delayed. You’ve seen the state of it—leaky roof, dodgy wiring. The builders swear it’ll be done by the end of September. The head’s decided you’ll lodge temporarily with Evelyn Carter and Margaret Whitmore.”
Marina shook her head. At fifty-seven, she never thought she’d be sharing a living space again. The divorce had left the flat with her ex—his name was on the lease first. All she had left was her job—teaching literature at a small-town college. Her salary barely covered rent, so when the head offered her a room in the dorm, she had little choice.
“Here are your keys,” said Mr. Thompson, handing over a set. “Third floor, room three-twelve. Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Whitmore already know you’re moving in.”
With a heavy heart, Marina took the keys and dragged herself towards the lift. A suitcase of essentials in hand—the rest packed away at a neighbour’s.
The room wasn’t… as dreadful as she’d feared. Sturdy old furniture, relics of another era: three beds, three nightstands, a wardrobe, a desk by the window. Two beds were already neatly made—one with a blue floral quilt, the other maroon with tassels.
“You must be Mrs. Harrington,” a voice said behind her.
A woman with steel-grey hair and thin-rimmed glasses stood in the doorway. Her sharp suit and posture screamed ‘career lecturer.’
“Yes,” Marina extended a hand. “And you are—?”
“Margaret Whitmore. Mathematics. Thirty-two years at this college.” The handshake was brisk. “Your bed’s by the window. Wardrobe’s divided—left section’s yours. Shower schedule’s on the door—don’t be late. Hot water’s on a timer.”
Marina nodded, feeling like a fresher all over again.
“And where’s Mrs. Carter?”
“Cafeteria duty today,” Margaret pursed her lips. “She’s the chemistry lecturer. Quite… eccentric. Blasts the wireless at dawn. Dries herbs everywhere. The smell lingers.”
“Here we go,” Marina thought, unpacking her case. Living with two strangers her age, each set in their ways, wouldn’t be easy.
She met Evelyn that evening. A stout, cheerful woman with dyed auburn hair barged in, arms full of apples.
“Look what I’ve got! From my garden—help yourselves!” Spotting Marina, she gasped. “Oh, you’re here! Evelyn Carter, lovely to meet you!”
She shook Marina’s hand vigorously.
“Apple?”
“Thank you,” Marina took one, though her appetite was gone. “Pleasure.”
“Evelyn, clear your herbs off the windowsill,” Margaret cut in. “There’s three of us now.”
“Oh, hush, Maggie,” Evelyn waved her off. “Plenty of room! Mrs. Harrington, you teach literature, yes? Heard you compose verses during lectures?”
Marina flushed.
“Just to make the material more engaging.”
“Brilliant!” Evelyn beamed. “And these—” She held out hands speckled with chemical burns. “Occupational hazards. But my students know—chemistry’s no joke!”
Margaret snorted, burying herself in a book. Silence and order were clearly her priorities.
“Tea, girls?” Evelyn produced an electric kettle.
“Not for me,” Margaret said. “Marking.”
Unexpectedly, Marina nodded. “Tea sounds lovely.”
Over tea, Evelyn chattered about her garden, grandkids, how the college head had once been her student. Her warmth was infectious, and Marina felt the day’s tension ease.
“How long have you lived here?” Marina asked.
“Three years,” Evelyn sighed. “My daughter rents, no space for me. I don’t mind—young ones need their privacy. The garden’s my escape. And Maggie—” she lowered her voice, “seven years here. Husband died, flat went to her son—married now, grandkids in London.”
Margaret’s stiffened shoulders proved she’d heard every word.
The first night was restless. Tossing in an unfamiliar bed, Marina listened to Margaret’s snores and Evelyn’s sleep-talk. Thin walls let in student noise.
Dawn broke to Evelyn’s wireless blasting.
“Morning, lovelies!” she sang, pouring tea.
Margaret winced. “Must it be so loud?”
“Sorry!” Evelyn turned it down. “Old habit. First lecture, Mrs. H?”
“Second,” Marina adjusted her blouse in the tiny mirror.
“Time for proper breakfast, then! Cafeteria’s doing pancakes!”
The first week was adjustment—morning queues for the shower, negotiating space, tiptoeing around routines. Margaret was meticulous—towels hung just so, shoes aligned. Evelyn was chaos—her tinctures cluttered the desk, her belongings migrated.
One evening, Evelyn burst in, distraught.
“Test tubes shattered! Chemistry lab’s shut! The head’s furious!”
Margaret peered over her glasses. “I told you—improper storage.”
“With that ancient equipment?” Evelyn threw up her hands. “There goes my bonus!”
“They won’t dock it,” Marina said suddenly. “I’ll ring an old schoolmate—council education officer. He might authorize repair funds.”
Evelyn gaped. “Really? You’d be a lifesaver!”
Even Margaret softened.”If you could… the whole place is falling apart.”
That night, over shared tea, walls crumbled. Margaret spoke of her estranged son in London. Evelyn confessed widowhood at forty, raising her daughter alone. Marina shared her divorce—twenty years, ended for a younger woman.
“Men,” Evelyn scoffed. “Mine eyed others too. Till the cancer took him.”
“Mine… vanished,” Margaret whispered. “Business trip, never returned. Called months later—new woman. My boy was eight.”
The bitterness of early days melted into kinship.
True to her word, Marina secured the funds. A week later, new lab equipment arrived. Evelyn baked an apple pie in thanks.
“Marvellous!” Marina took a bite.
“Gran’s recipe,” Evelyn glowed. “Secret’s a dash of brandy in the crust.”
Even Margaret tried a slice. “Exceptional. You’ve hidden talents.”
Odd friendship bloomed. Three women, mismatched yet mellowing. Margaret needed everything just-so. Evelyn talked to herself. Marina marked papers late into the night.
But they adapted. Marina warned before burning midnight oil. Evelyn dried herbs in the shared kitchen. Margaret stopped nitpicking.
By October, with renovations still unfinished, relief outweighed irritation.
“Drag it out till spring!” Evelyn laughed, arranging jam jars. “I’m quite comfy!”
“Never thought I’d say it,” Margaret smiled, “but I agree.”
Come November, the room transformed. Margaret’s geraniums brightened the sill. Evelyn brought a lace tablecloth from home. Marina hung her secret watercolours—long-hidden hobby.
Then, a bombshell. The head barged in unannounced.
“Ladies! Renovations complete—back to your own rooms next week!”
Silence thickened after he left.
“Well,” Margaret finally said, “we’ll each have our space again.”
“Yes,” Marina nodded, an odd weight in her chest.
Only Evelyn looked bereft. “I’ll miss our teas.”
Tension hung that night. None would admit the dread of parting.
Next evening, a surprise awaited—a cake inscribed *Thanks for Saving the Chem Lab*, and good wine. A gift from colleagues.
“Shall we?” Evelyn poured.
Over glasses, the unspoken surfaced.
“I’ve been thinking,” Margaret set down her cup. “My room’s the largest. Three beds could fit.”
Marina and Evelyn exchanged glances.
“You’re suggesting… we stay together?”
“If you’d like. It’s… lonely alone.”
“I’m in!” Evelyn cried. “And think—we’d save rent! Could sublet to the new P.E. instructor.”
“My room too,” Marina added. “Split the income—help your grandkids, Evelyn. Fund your London trips, Margaret.”
They pitched the idea to the head next day. He hesitated—but with the P.E. teacher desperate for housing, he agreed.
Moving day came. Margaret’s room was airy, freshly wallpapered. They arranged beds, settled in. That night, Evelyn baked—”housewarming pie.”
“To us,” Marina raised her cup. “The unlikeliest trio to become… family?”
“Family,” Margaret smiled, unguarded at last.
“To our shared roomThree women clinked their cups, knowing that home wasn’t a place, but the people who made the chaos worthwhile.
