I rent my spare room out to strangers. I’ve had three tenants so far. The first one was a girl- young with a pale face and stringy blonde hair. She had arrived here from Eastern Europe in search of work, and I gave her a place to stay. I liked her, and I was lonely then, so I tried to make a move. But every time I tried something, she just smiled and shook her head vigorously from side to side. ‘I have husband back home,’ she would say in her broken English and jerking her thumb in the direction of the window, as if Poland was, in fact, just outside my house. It was the same response every time. Her command of the language never improved, and nor did my luck with her. She stayed a month.

My second tenant was an American. He was large and stupid. He was always eating but managed to talk a great deal whilst doing so, without actually knowing much about anything. In the two months he stayed with me all I ever saw him do was eat, talk and pass wind. He refused to tell me what he was doing in my country, but It didn’t bother me so much; I needed the money and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. On the day before he left, he introduced me- as if by way of an apology for his appalling habits- to his cousin, who lived not too far away. She and I got on well, and we were seeing each other long after my tenant had left. He deserves some acknowledgment for bringing us together, I suppose.

My most recent tenant was the best one. He was like me, we went out to bars and other places I didn’t even know existed. He was clean, well-organised and stayed out of my way when I was working. It all changed when he met her. I introduced them when she came round to see me- he didn’t even try to hide his emotions from me. And, like that, it became a competition. I found myself racing him to open the door for her when she knocked, humiliating him in front of her at every opportunity. But it made no difference. I knew I had to get rid of him. Sharpish. ‘Look,’ I told him plainly and finally. ‘It isn’t working. Find somewhere else.’

And that’s what he did. He found her flat. Six months and I’m holding their wedding invitation in my hands, wondering why I’m not more upset. The truth is she and I weren’t really getting on that well anyway, and we both knew it was about to end. She was probably better suited for him anyway. That’s it, I think to myself. Tomorrow I’m leaving. Taking a plane somewhere and not coming back. I’ll rent a spare room in somebody’s house- look for a job, start a new life. Who knows what I’ll do? Maybe I’ll go to America. Or Poland.