The Visitor at Dusk

Mark never expected to be living alone in his fifties, but that’s how things had ended up. After a messy divorce, he’d dated a few times, but it never felt right.

With sunset approaching, it seemed like any other Tuesday. After ordering a takeaway, Mark promised himself that he would cook something healthier tomorrow.

As he waited for his fish and chips, he heard the front gate squeak. Something felt off — it was too early to be the delivery driver. Seconds later, the doorbell made him jump.

* * *

Mark opened the door to see a woman in her mid-seventies. Her clothes looked old-fashioned but immaculate.

“This might sound strange, but can I come inside and look around?” she asked.

Trying to hide his puzzled expression, Mark said, "Is everything alright?"

She looked at him sheepishly. “I know it sounds a bit cheeky, but this was my childhood home, and I'd love to see it one last time.”

Mark wasn’t sure if she was genuine, but he sensed sadness and urgency in her voice.

“I’ll be eating soon, but you can have a quick look,” he said, opening the door wider. "I'm Mark, by the way."

“Thank you. I’m Janet,” she said as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

“It's probably changed a lot since you last saw it, but I’ve only lived here for ten years, and the most I've done is repaint a few rooms. Should we start in the kitchen?” Mark said.

“I’d like that,” she replied as they walked through. "It's so long since I last saw the place in the early '60s."

Janet stood in the corner of the kitchen. “There used to be a big table here. It was where my family sat for every meal — and where I did my homework.”

She glanced at the window. “Could we go into the back garden?”

With the light fading fast, Mark unlocked the back door, trying not to glance at the clock as his stomach rumbled.

“Oh, look!" she grinned, pointing up with childlike enthusiasm. "The tree is still here! And it's so big now! My dad put a rope over that thick branch. I loved swinging from it.”

They looked at some other trees and plants, but soon it was too dark to see, so they went back inside.

As they went from room to room, she told Mark about all the ways the house had changed — or not.

At one point, she paused on the stairs and looked at him inquisitively. "Do you live here on your own?"

"Yes," Mark said awkwardly. "I used to be married until a few years ago, but things didn't work out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said gently. "Houses have a way of holding on to things. Memories and feelings."

Mark smiled politely as they continued the tour.

When she saw the airing cupboard door in the bathroom, her eyes lit up.

"I used to squeeze myself in there when I played hide and seek with my brother! Do you mind if I look inside?"

As Mark opened the door, she grinned. "It still has the same wallpaper!"

"I think I'm too big to fit inside now, though!" she said as they both laughed.

* * *

The doorbell interrupted the moment.

“It sounds like my food is here — I'd better answer that,” said Mark as he dashed downstairs.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you," Janet called after him.

"It was no trouble. I’m glad it brought back some memories,” he shouted up to her.

After taking the food into the kitchen, he returned to the hall to say goodbye to Janet. Except there was no sign of her.

“Janet?” he called.

Although keen to eat, he was worried, so he dashed back upstairs. He searched every room in the house, but there was no sign of her.

* * *

Feeling defeated, Mark picked at his fish and chips, too unsettled to eat. Then he thought about the airing cupboard: Surely Janet hadn’t squeezed herself in there like she did as a child?

He left his half-eaten meal and hurried back upstairs to open the cupboard, but there was nobody inside. After all, there was barely any room in there.

Then he noticed a tear in the old wallpaper.

“I’m sure that wasn’t there earlier,” he thought.

He removed more wallpaper to reveal some frail, handwritten words on the wall that said:

"Thank you, Mark, for letting me in."

He stood there for what felt like ten minutes, mouth wide open.

* * *

The following day, Mark saw his neighbour sweeping up leaves.

"David," he said, "do you know if someone called Janet ever lived here?"

"That's going back a bit!" David replied, a solemn expression appearing on his face. "There was a girl called Janet, but that was in the '50s or '60s. She died in a tragic accident at school. I don't think she was more than 12 or 13."

"Why do you ask?" he continued.

"I, erm, heard someone talking about her recently," Mark said.

"I've not heard that name for years," David said. "The family was never the same after the accident, and they moved to another town a few years later."

After Mark went back inside, he took another look in the airing cupboard. The wallpaper was still missing where he'd removed it. But now the wall underneath was bare, with no trace of handwriting.

A shiver ran down his spine as he sat on the edge of the bath, remembering his conversation with Janet. Somehow, he felt less alone.

* * *

© 2025 Alan J. Edmonds