We’ll have to stay at yours for a while, because we can’t afford to rent a flat!” That’s what my old friend told me.
I’m a woman who’s always on the move. Even though I’ve just turned sixty-five, I still find ways to visit new places and meet fascinating people. Memories from my youth bring both joy and a little sadness. Back then you could go on holiday wherever your heart desired. You could escape to the coast, camp under the stars with friends and colleagues, or take a narrowboat trip along the canals. And you could do all that with hardly any money.
But those days feel very far away now.
I’ve always enjoyed meeting people, whether it was sunbathing on Brighton beach or watching a play in London. Some acquaintances eventually became lifelong friends, and I kept in touch with many of them over the years.
That’s how I met a woman named Veronica. We stayed at the same guest house during a summer holiday. We parted as friends and over the following years kept in touch occasionally, sending Christmas cards and the occasional letter.
Then one day I received a very strange telegram. There was no name on it, just one line:
“Train arrives at 3 a.m. Wait for me at the station!”
I had no idea who could have sent such a message. Naturally, my husband and I decided not to go out in the middle of the night.
But at four in the morning a loud knock woke us up. I opened the door and stood there in shock. Veronica was on the doorstep, with two teenage girls, an elderly woman, and a man I had never seen before. Around them was a mountain of suitcases and bags. My husband and I just stared at them in silence. But in the end we let the unexpected guests into our flat.
Veronica looked annoyed and sighed.
“Why didn’t you come to meet us? I sent you a telegram! Taxis in London are terribly expensive!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, confused, “but I had no idea who it was from.”
“Well, I had your address. So here we are!”
I had always thought of us as little more than pen pals.
Veronica explained that one of the girls had just finished her A-levels and was going to study at a university in the city. The whole family had come to see her off and needed somewhere to stay.
“We’ll be living with you!” she said cheerfully. “We can’t afford rent, and you live so close to the city centre.”
I was completely shocked. We weren’t even related. Why should I host them? Suddenly I was expected to cook proper meals three times a day for six people. They had brought a bit of food with them, but none of them helped in the kitchen. I had to do everything myself.
By the third day I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Veronica and her family that they needed to find somewhere else to stay. Honestly, I didn’t care where.
That was when she completely lost control. She started smashing dishes and screaming hysterically.
I stood there frozen in shock.
Eventually they stormed out, slamming the door behind them and muttering curses. Only later did I realise they had taken my bathrobe, several towels, and—most strangely of all—my biggest stew pot, the one that was still full of cabbage stew.
To this day I have no idea how they managed to carry it away, but the pot simply vanished.
