This story is just a piece of fiction hope you readers enjoy and your positive comments are welcome on [email protected]

Last year, I went to pursue my further studies in the United States, on a 1 year course as a mature student. It was a big decision to change my career and retrain, but, at 34, and having worked in Sales for 6 years I fancied a change of lifestyle and when the recession hit and I lost my job, it seemed like a good move.

Everything went like clockwork to begin with, I had everything planned out and the only hitch was when the college emailed me, a week before I left, to say that they had been oversubscribed on accommodation in their campus. As a mature student, I was low-priority and would have to find, and finance, my own living arrangements. This was not something I had budgeted for, and in the end I had to resort to looking for private rooms locally, which was still expensive. With a couple of days to go before my flight, I had some luck, I found an ad online advertising for a lodger but, annoyingly, specifying no students. It was about 5 minutes walk from the college and was well within my meagre price range so I called the number, hoping for some luck. Fortunately the lady who answered was very nice, she explained that the advert was to avoid young, loud students but that I sounded nothing like that.

She took pity when I explained my situation and agreed to let me stay for 1 week on a trial basis, as she had obviously not met me yet. She was very accommodating and even ended up picking me up from the airport at midnight! I insisted on paying extra rent for the trouble she had gone to but she refused to accept it. When we arrived she had prepared a selection of teas, from English breakfast to earl grey. I thought it best not to mention that I really had no taste for tea, flattered at her thoughtfulness.

We made some idle chitchat while I sipped my weak early-grey tea, trying to feign a refreshing sigh after each sip. Her name was Monique, she was recently divorced and lived here with her 18 year old daughter Nicky. Her husband, Ray, had moved out 6 months ago after they split up. He was a lawyer and had given them the house. I guess because of their daughter. She had been a secretary at his firm but had quit to avoid him, and now she worked for an IT firm. I didn’t question further, just listened to what she had to say, it was clear that she had been needing to talk to someone. We chatted a bit more about the area, and my college course, why I’d made such a change, where I’d grown up. It had been a long flight so I soon excused myself and asked to be shown to my room.

She led me back through to the hallway and up the stairs, as I looked around I began to notice quite how grand and expensive this whole place was. I began to understand why she was looking to supplement her income after leaving her job. Being given a house is one thing, but she must have been used to a very expensive way of life. Monique led me into a small, but immaculately laid out room, with low wooden beams and lit with hanging lamps with white jewels encrusted on the fittings. It had two large windows looking out onto gardens, which were obviously well looked after and stylishly lit with strategically placed lamps.
“It’s small, but I like to think of it as cosy,” she said, leaning against the windowsill, looking out, past her reflection, at the gardens. “And it’s got the best views of all, none of the other rooms look out down to the lakes like this one.” It was pitch dark and there was no moon so I had to take her word for it, I turned to the window on the adjacent wall and saw the back side of the house, moving away at right angles to my room. “It’s like an L shape,” she said, “and we’re on the tip of the bottom section, looking out. Wait til morning, you’ll love it.” She turned and walked towards the door. “If you need anything, just come find me. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for everything,” I called after her, and shut the door. I stretched and walked around the bed. I stood and looked out of the side window, my eye was caught by one of the windows in the house to my left, it was lit with a flashing glow, the sign of a TV in a darkened room. As my eyes grew accustomed to it I thought I could make out a figure at the window, a silhouette where there was no flickering light. I went and turned off the light, returned to the window but when I looked again, the curtains were closed, and the room was in darkness. I shut the curtains and returned to preparing for bed. No need for setting an alarm, I had arrived early to get used to the place before term started, so I had nowhere in particular to be for another fortnight. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

DAY 1

When I awoke on my first morning in America there was sunlight shining right into my face from the big windows at the foot of the room. I got up and walked over to close the curtains, as the sun moved out of my eyes I stopped out of astonishment. Before me lay the most amazing view of undulating gardens, in places topped with small well-kept hills made up of garden beds or trees. Beyond, a series of lakes which open into a valley, rising up to mountains on each side, in the distance. I hadn’t realised quite how nice this house was.
I discovered that what I had at first thought was a wardrobe was in fact the door to an en-suite bathroom. I undressed and turned on the shower, before wandering back into my room to look for some fresh clothes from my bag. I was standing at the bed pulling out my clothes when my eye was caught by movement from the side window. I looked and saw the figure of a girl standing at a window at the back of the house, the sun was reflecting off her window but I could make out the outline of her face, she had straight, shoulder-length dark hair and was dressed in a white robe. Suddenly aware of my nakedness I picked up my clothes and walked back into the bathroom to take my shower.

When I came downstairs I found Monique and Nicky washing up in the kitchen. They had eaten breakfast and had saved me a plate. Pancakes with syrup and some bacon and scrambled eggs. A typical American breakfast if I have ever seen one. I wondered how both of them had stayed so slim, if this was their typical breakfast meal. Nicky made her excuses and went to take a shower and get dressed, apparently Monique was taking her shopping at the mall. I guess my surprise at this showed through….
“She always does this when I’m going away, she knows I’m on some kind of guilt trip so she uses it to get the most out of it while she can”, she explained. “She’s quite immature for her age, I know she’s doing it but I do kinda feel guilty at how much time I have to spend away. It’s the nature of my job, if a company’s tills fail in Alabama, I have to go down there. It’s how I pay the bills.”
“I’m sure she understands, if she’s anything like most teenagers she enjoys the freedom and will happily enjoy being spoilt to make up for it”. It wasn’t much of a reply, but I was never good at listening to peoples problems. It didn’t really matter, because I knew where this was going.

“Normally I’d have my sister pop round every day to check on the house, make sure Nicky hasn’t thrown any parties or anything, but it’s so out of her way, and her husband recently broke his leg in an accident, so she’s got so much on her plate. I was wondering, how would you feel if I offered to waive this weeks rent if you could hang around the house. Keep an eye on the house, feed the cats, and and make sure she doesn’t burn the place down?”
I chose not to mention that I had absolutely nothing planned, that while searching on Google before my trip I’d found absolutely nothing interesting to do in this town whatsoever.