"Douglas! Come meet our new tenant!"

A large teddy bear of a man, cleaning the lenses of a pair of reading glasses on a corner of his cardigan, rounded the corner from the large living area at the far end of the hallway.

"Isn't he a handsome boy?" gushed Glenda proudly, as though assuming some responsibility for whatever comeliness was to be found there.

"Fine looking fellow," he concurred, smiling warmly. "Doug Henshaw. Pleased to meet you." He extended a hand, which Tim shook, detecting not a trace of macho over-firmness. "Let me show you to your digs."

What the estate agent had described as a granny flat, Tim would have described as a small house. It was situated halfway down a concrete path that ran the length of a huge back yard, and reminded him of the detached cottages in a caravan park where his family had stayed on one particularly rainy and generally ill-fated holiday. Except that it was nice. Overwhelmingly nice. Everything in the place had been procured and assembled with such a painstaking attention to niceness that he could only imagine that on completion, the person responsible had promptly committed suicide, their lifelong devotion to all things nice complete. "Good heavens! This is palatial! Are you sure you're charging enough?"

"Very kind of you to say so. We had it fixed up for my mother a few years ago. Only accumulating dust since. She passed away in intensive care; never got to stay a single night in the end."

"I'm sorry." And relieved. As a lifelong ardent sceptic, Tim knew he would otherwise be listening out for her ghost at night.

"Very satisfying the way the family came together for her. Lovely service, beautiful headstone."

Tim had been searching Doug's countenance for a trace of the mean streak that he'd been warned about, and concluded he'd find more lurking menace in a litter of labrador puppies. Both Doug and Glenda spoke with the slightly slurred diction of the stroke victim, the perpetually slightly drunk, or the very expensively educated. Tim guessed the third, and possibly the second. Still, the genial attitude was infectious, and he was beginning to feel very good indeed about his new situation.

"You can bring your car around the side when you're ready."

"That's okay," said Tim, heaving his bags onto his new double (queen sized?) bed, "I don't have a car."

"Ah! Might be able to help you there. I have a cousin in the trade. He should be able to sort you out with something reasonable."

"Don't have a license, in fact." Then, realising this may be interpreted as an admission of being a serial dangerous/drunk driver, he added "Never had one."

"Oh." Doug seemed genuinely flummoxed by this and unable to formulate a response. "Never mind," he said at last, "We're about to pop into town to run a few errands. I daresay you'll want to get settled in."

"Yes. I might go for a walk later. Thanks for the very kind welcome."

"Very pleased to have you. Good to finally get some use out of the old shed. Feel free to pop in whenever you need anything, or just for a natter. We keep a very open house. Truth be told, Glenda's often at a loose end since she retired, and a bit of conversation now and then will keep her from going completely ga-ga." He winked conspiratorially, and Tim couldn't help but smile.

"I'll do my best."

His new landlord departed with a cheery wave, leaving Tim to marvel at how yet again he'd managed to land on his feet. Tucking a few nagging threads of guilt into the back pockets of his mind, he lay on the bed, giving it an experimental bounce as he took in the details of his new home. His bed was at the far end of the cabin, beside a curtained window looking out onto the garden. Nice wardrobe at the end of the bed, with a nice but empty recess for a TV which he would fill in due course. Nice lounge, nice coffee table, nice kitchenette in the far corner with a very nice breakfast bar affair surrounded by nice stools. The door to what he assumed was a nice bathroom/laundry was mercifully closed. He would save that niceness for later. No point overdoing it.

After a nap, he would have a shower and amble down to what on his map was labelled "New Town Shopping Centre". Tim was very pleased to see the map had a picture of a half-full glass at one corner of the complex, which he took to denote some sort of pub. "Very nice," he mumbled to himself as he kicked off his shoes and drifted off to complete the previous night's sleep.