THE LODGER

Chapter One

It was about 15 months after Eileen had lost her husband Frank that she began to think constructively about her situation.   She was moderately fond of her own company, finding books and the TV comfortably filled her evenings.   But she felt rather guilty that she was rattling around in such a big house all by herself.

For the first six months or so of her widowhood family members had called frequently but their own lives and problems now kept them away.   What she missed most, she had discovered, was someone tall, to reach high cupboards and change light bulbs and with a strong wrist to undo bottles and other screw tops that she just couldn’t shift.   And, importantly, an ability to take spiders out of the bath.

After some though Eileen hit upon the idea of a lodger.   The local College, which was handily just up the road, ran BTEC courses in engineering which attracted students from a wide area and even overseas.   She contacted the college, who said that come September they would be more than glad to be able to direct homeless students to her, but that would she mind a quick inspection first?

Eileen said of course not, and began to shift some furniture around in the spare bedroom with the help of her grandson, who expressed his doubt about this venture.   Eileen overcame his fears, plus the more strongly voiced those of her daughter, who pointed out that she was talking about an 18 year old lad, away from home for the first time, and who would probably want mothering, though who would die before admitting it, and what about their washing and meals?  Eileen said the College expected students to look after themselves.     But she would forbid smoking and parties.

At the end of August, (the inspection having been passed satisfactorily) Eileen was therefore rather surprised when a very good-looking man in about his late 20’s turned up on her doorstep looking for a room, saying the College had given him her address.

It transpired he was a late starter, some sort of illness hinted at.   Eileen didn’t really feel she could ask for details.   No, he didn’t smoke, and was not a party person, especially as his fellow students were likely to be a good ten years younger.  He was not married, divorced or otherwise encumbered with a partner or children.

At the suggestion of the College advisor Eileen had provided a kettle, toaster, microwave and basic crockery.   There was a wash basin in his room, and Martin Doubleday expressed himself delighted with the arrangements and assured her that microwave cookery was fine by him.   A few business details were discussed and Martin arranged to move in the next week.

It so happened that Eileen’s daughter Rachel did not meet Martin for several weeks after his establishment with her mother, as Rachel’s daytime visits coincided with College hours.   However, about halfway through the term she met him, was introduced and chatted a bit about his course, which sounded very technical.

Rachel kept her initial feelings to herself but asked Eileen if Martin had told her anything about his family, where he had lived before, or any personal information.   Eileen realised that she in fact knew very little about Martin.   He had not said where he came from, or if he had any family, though she thought he had mentioned something about living near the sea.

“Quite a mystery man then,” said Rachel.   “How long is this course he’s on?”

I think its two years, though it might be three” said Eileen.   “I know its engineering, but no more than that.”

All went well for the first term.  At the end of November Eileen asked Martin if he was going away for Christmas.   She rather feared he was going to stay with her, and then she could see he’d have to be invited to join her for the Christmas meal, and she really didn’t want that.   She couldn’t see him quite fitting in with her own family.

“Yes, I’m going to friends for the Christmas holiday” Martin said, to her relief.

“What about your family?   Do you have anyone to go to?”

“No” said Martin briefly.   “They are too far away.”

And with that Eileen had to be satisfied.

It was after the Christmas holidays, when Martin had been back a couple of weeks, that he began to change.   Very gradually his manner became somehow more personal.   He called her Eileen, without asking her first, and stood closer to her when passing in the house.   Once or twice in the evening he knocked on the sitting room door with a question Eileen thought was about a very trivial matter.   Once in the sitting room he had made himself comfortably in the second armchair and looked like staying until Eileen said firmly that she was going to watch TV now.

Of course, my dear” he said and went out.

“My dear?”  thought Eileen.  “He’s getting what my mother would have called ‘fresh’” but then she felt guilty, thinking perhaps he was lonely.

Three or four weeks later the same thing happened.   He sat in the armchair and looked settled in.

“I’m going to watch that Scandi thriller”, she said, hoping he would go.

“Oh, that’s one of my favourites!” he exclaimed.   “Do you think I could watch it with you?”

Eileen felt she really couldn’t say ‘no’, as he’d sounded very humble and polite.   She went to get up to turn on the TV but he leapt to his feet and said “Allow me!”

The following week Rachel came over.   Martin had not gone to College as it was the Easter holidays and coming downstairs as she opened the front door he said “Have you come to see your lovely mother?”

Rachel gave a nod.   She had seen him watching from the window as she drove her car in.

“Mum” she said, when she was certain they could not be overheard.   “What do you know about this Martin man?   I think he’s creepy, there’s something not quite right”.

“Whatever do you mean?” Eileen asked.   “I admit he’s got a bit friendlier lately, but I expect he was just shy at first”.

“I’m not happy with him here”, Rachel told her

“Oh, he’s all right,” said her mother.   “You are just imagining things”.

Rachel looked at her.   Well, don’t get alone with him, that’s all”.

Eileen gave a mental shrug and changed the subject.   She wasn’t going to tell her daughter about the sitting room visits.

That evening, after Rachel had gone home, Martin came in, without knocking.   Eileen looked surprised.

“I thought you might be lonely, my dear, after your lovely daughter has gone.   Shall I make us a cup of tea?”

“Well, I don’t drink tea at night”, said Eileen, but he was already in the kitchen opening cupboards and boiling the kettle.   Eileen was a bit annoyed, and even more annoyed when he came in with two mugs of tea and settled down in the armchair.

“This is a very quiet house” Martin remarked, “I never hear your next-door neighbours”.

“They are a very quiet couple.   I sometimes hear their dog barking”, Eileen said shortly.   She sipped her tea, and found Martin watching her.

“I don’t feel like watching TV tonight” she said.   “I’ve got a very good book I want to finish”.

“Oh, I’ll be very quiet” he said.

“Well….” Began Eileen, but he leaned back and shut his eyes.

Eileen left the rest of her tea, and picked up her book.   She hated him being here, but wasn’t sure how to set about getting rid of him.   Maybe he would go if she ignored him.

After about half an hour, Martin opened his eyes and said “I think we should move that sofa in front of the TV, instead of your chair.”

“Move it?” said Eileen.   “What do you mean?  I don’t want it moved”.

“Oh, I think it would be a good idea”, said Martin, getting up, it would make the room look quite different”.

“Well, I really don’t want things changed.    I like them the way they are”.

“Trust me” Martin said and pushed his own armchair out of the way and pulled the sofa across the room.

“Stand up, my dear” he said, taking Eileen’s arm.

She thought she heard a faint menace in his tone, but couldn’t see what she could do to oppose him.

“Well”, she said doubtfully, “I didn’t really want the sofa there.”

“You will see its much better like this” said Martin, pulling her chair forward and pushing the sofa so that it was opposite the TV.   “I don’t think, perhaps that you have an eye for the look of the room”.

“Well, my chair was much more comfortable” she said weakly, wondering how much it mattered what the room looked like when it should be just herself in there.

“You need a firmer seat”, said Martin, “I can see how you slouch in that armchair.   Its not good for you”.

By now it was nearly 10.00 pm, and Eileen felt she wanted to get away from this suddenly domineering man.   She did wish Frank, her husband was there with her.

“I think I will go to bed now” she said, and turned toward the door.

“No”, said Martin firmly, “I will make you a hot drink first.   You will sleep better”.

“I never drink before I go to bed” said Eileen, “It is not good for me”.   She didn’t want to tell Martin that she would have to get up at least twice to go to the loo.

“Nonsense” Martin replied and went into the kitchen.  He came back quickly with two mugs of what looked like Horlicks, although Eileen was certain she did not have the stuff in her cupboard.

“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.

“Horlicks, of course.   I brought some of my own for you”

“Well, she thought, this was all planned then.   What a cheek!”

“I really don’t want it, she tried to say firmly, but to her horror, her eyes were filling with tears, and she felt slightly afraid of him.    Oh Frank, why did you have to leave me? She thought.

“You drink it” he commanded.

Eileen drank.

“Now you may go to bed, you will sleep better than you have ever done.   Horlicks is famous for that.   I am going to watch the film on channel 4”.

Standing up, he took Eileen by the arm and walked with her to the stairs.

“Now be careful,“  he warned,  people your age are so prone to falling”.

Eileen had never fallen in her life, well, not recently, and she marched up the stairs feeling very cross.   Her age indeed!

Martin went back into the sitting room and shut the door.

In the morning, Eileen awoke to what she called ‘a thick head’ which she put down to the upsetting events of the previous night.   She went downstairs in her dressing gown, as usual, to allow Martin to use the shower in the mornings.

To her very annoyed surprise Martin was in the kitchen.

“Martin!  You usually have breakfast in your own room.   What are you doing here”?

“I’m cooking breakfast for both of us” he replied, whisking eggs in a basin.

“I never eat a cooked breakfast” Eileen snapped, “It doesn’t agree with me.   Now please leave my kitchen alone”.

“Sit down, Eileen” said Martin masterfully, “At your age, you obviously need looking after.   Just toast is not good enough in the morning.”

“I always have porridge” Eileen tried to be firm.

“Oh my dear”, Martin sat down beside her.  “Oats are so aging.   More a breakfast for children.   You must have protein.   And herbal tea, caffeine is so bad for women like you”.

Women like me? thought Eileen.   Who does he think he is?   Anyone would think I was on the verge of dementia.    She felt like going back to bed until he had gone out, but was desperate for a cup of tea.   And not herbal.

Gathering her dressing gown around her, and her courage in both hands, she got up, slapped a piece of bread in the toaster, boiled some more water, put a teabag in a mug and made a cup of tea.   Taking her toast, she found the butter, spread it on, and putting the toast and mug on a small tray, went upstairs to her bedroom.   All in silence. Martin looked after her thoughtfully.    She was not quite as pliant as he thought

To be continued