THE LANDLADY by Jay Jay.

FOLLY.

Cindy had a terrible night's sleep. 

The thought of the dirty tramp sitting in her nice, pristine clean car was more than her OCD tendencies could handle. 

She looked at her car next morning. It was difficult. She didn't want to insult the guy, after all, he was now a client of hers, but how could she do this?

Mrs Roberts, another apartment dweller, had a car with a tow bar. An idea occurred to her. It was not so early that she would be a nuisance.

Mrs Roberts agreed to swap cars for the day, so Cindy could help her friend move a trailor load of stuff from one residence to another. "That will be fine, dear," I only have to get the soccor team kids transported to their game this morning. I'll use your car for that."

Cindy put an old blanket over the passenger side seat, and an old mat on the floor. That should do.

She hurried over to the trash can, hoping no-one was watching. The guy was snoring gently, wrapped up in some filthy blankets.

"Hey, wake up!" she hissed. "It's time to go."

He rolled over, looked at her blearily. His body ached, all over, as it always did now-a-days. He wasn't getting used to this life-style at all, and now this blonde was staring at him like he was, well, a bit of garbage. He was not in the best mood. But the blonde might be a way out, his mind cautioned. Be polite.

"Give me a moment, lady. I gotta take a piss."

"Where...oh, I'll just go and get the car round to here. I'll meet you at the other end of the alley."

"Don't want your rich mates to see me, huh?" Dean grumbled. Cindy had already gone. Ah, well. He tidied up his belongings and packed them carefully into a battered old backpack. Wasn't going to leave these here for some scavenger to take, or worse, for someone from the apartment building to take the opportunity to throw the bag into the trash. He left the cardboard. It was almost past its use-by date anyway. By the time he had done all this, Cindy was at the end of the alley, but in a different car. He didn't comment as he threw his bag into the back seat, she didn't comment about the bag, though he noticed her cute little nose screw up a bit.

As they pulled into Wolf Lane, Dean started in surprise. "Hey, I know this street, I had a friend that was murdered here a few years back."

"Ah, you know about that?"

"Yeah, man, tragic. Could have been me, but I took off down the beach with a group from the party that night. Man, no-one knows what happened. Never found the animal or person or whatever did that to those kids. Funny how it's Wolf street, eh? That's it, that's the house! The big old double story house at the end."

"That's where we are going," Cindy said.

"There? Are you crazy? I'm not going to live there! I'd rather go back to the streets!"

"Calm down, I'm not proposing that you live in the big house. There's another house, a little one bedroom, on the property. At least have a look at it."

"O.K. But just telling you, I'm not having a bar of that big house. It's probably haunted."

Cindy did not believe in ghosts, and snorted, but said nothing. Instead she led Dean to the door of the cottage. Mrs Jones answered, gumboots on. "Lets go straight to the folly, and I'll show you what I have in mind."

The folly was a marble building with Greek-looking pillars, built strategically to reflect in the still waters of the large pond. There were bushy trees behind the folly, and behind the trees there was a solid little house. Inside it was cosy, warm, and Dean found himself longing to move in straight away.