Chestnut Street by Maeve Binchy

Author:Maeve Binchy [Binchy, Maeve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780385351850
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2014-04-22T07:00:00+00:00

Molly wanted a room for three nights a week. This way she could work in the big financial center for four full days from Tuesday to Friday and then get a late train back to the peaceful place where she was just managing to get her life back together.

She had no idea how appallingly expensive it was to rent a room these days. How did people manage? And how had she not known? All those years living with Hugh in their big comfortable home must have made her completely unaware of how the rest of the world existed.

But the big house was sold and the money divided, and Molly had bought a country cottage, to everyone’s amazement. All she needed now was somewhere to stay for less than half the week—it didn’t matter how simple—and yet she was unable to find anything at all suitable. Friends had offered her a bed, but Molly valued friendships. She didn’t want to perch in their houses; she wanted her own place. Surely, somewhere in a city this size, there must be a plain, ordinary room with a bed and a chair and an electric kettle. She would install a clothes rail and a small television set. She was happy to share a bathroom. She didn’t need to live in any great style.

Molly’s job in the financial center was a demanding one, with long hours. There would be little time for entertaining. She would be happy to go back to a room at the end of a long day and sleep. Sleep was becoming increasingly important to her these days.

Otherwise she would think about Hugh, playing it all over in her mind, what had happened here and there and how it could all have been prevented. Round and round in her head these thoughts would go, leaving Molly exhausted and confused as ever. Over the months she had discovered that the solution to all that useless speculation was hard work and sleep.

It was ludicrous spending so much of the money that she earned on a small hotel room. She would try yet again, go to yet another accommodation agency and explain her very simple needs.

The woman behind the desk was sympathetic but doubtful. People really didn’t want strangers coming into their homes. Now, if she were to consider sharing with others, there were very nice properties on the market.

“But I don’t want to share with young people,” Molly pleaded. “I’m forty-one years of age—I can’t sit and listen to their music and have their friends coming in at all hours of the night. I just want a place of my own in someone’s home where I will be no trouble. Is it such a terrible crime?”

The woman’s face softened. “Of course it’s not, and if I had a home myself, which I never had, then I’d offer you the room straightaway—nothing I would like better.”

“So where do you live?” Molly asked.

“With my brother and his wife. Not entirely satisfactory, I may tell you, but they need the rent and I can’t afford a mortgage.

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