I never thought I’d ever have to forcibly remove someone from my home – or that I’d even have the strength to do so. But, when my unexpected guest overstayed their welcome, I had no choice but to take things into my own hands.

That morning I’d been happily absorbed in the task of preparing my workspace. I had prepped my canvas; my paints and brushes were lined up and I was ready to create my final piece. Just as I was about to begin the process of transferring the image held in my mind into something more tangible, there was a knock at the door. I wondered at first if I’d imagined it, as my dog, AJ, did not stir but remained snoozing beneath the table. I got up slowly so as not to disturb her and made my way to the front door. Framed within the distorted orb of the peephole was the unmistakeable face of a woman I knew from my art class. Her long, wavy hair and indigo headband gave the impression of a fortune teller trapped within her own crystal ball.

I was surprised to see her as I didn’t know her well, although she was a constant presence in my art class where she could be found weaving her way between students and easels, lingering occasionally to whisper in someone’s ear. She had never approached me in this way, but I had observed these encounters and noticed that they would mostly result in students taking one of the following two actions.They would either gather their art supplies and scurry over to the sink to scrupulously rinse their brushes or alternatively they would painstakingly rearrange their workspace, sometimes not returning to their projects before the end of class. I assumed she was a support teacher, although she’d never been formally introduced as such. I got the impression though that she fancied herself as a sort of muse, whose purpose was to grace us mere mortals with her gift of inspiration. Secretly I was glad that she’d rarely shown any interest in me as I was not sure I had the patience to humour such delusions of grandeur. That was why I felt particularly irked that she would choose now of all times to show up at my door.

As I reached for the door handle, I was hit with a sinking feeling that I couldn’t recall my visitor’s name. I racked my brain and the name Theo came to mind. It didn’t seem quite right, although it struck me as suitably enigmatic. I reasoned that as she hadn’t yet seen me, I could easily pretend I wasn’t home. But as I paused to deliberate, I became acutely aware of a smell – something familiar and comforting, yet I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. As my mind busied itself with trying to pair the aroma with the associated memory, my hand, seemingly acting independently of my brain, betrayed me and took the liberty of opening the door. The morning breeze assisted in delivering the full assault of this woman’s heady perfume on my senses. Heavy notes of musk and vanilla infused my lungs, along with the nostalgic aroma I had been trying to identify – warm milk. Although I detected a sourness to it in the light of day.

“Lyra!” She exclaimed, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I’ve been meaning to pop by. I spotted your car in your driveway the other day as I was walking my dog. I hadn’t realised we’re practically neighbours! I live just a few streets away.” She motioned her arm, presumably in the direction of her house causing several golden bangles to slip down to her elbow, producing a musical effect, rather like windchimes. “I wondered if you might have time for coffee?” she gushed. “I would invite you to mine but I’m having some work done and it’s a terrible mess!” She glanced over my shoulder into the hallway beyond, beaming at me eagerly.

“Oh,” I said, rather taken aback. “I would love to invite you in, but I really should be getting on with my work. As you know the deadline is looming and I was just about to begin my final piece.” My response was met with such a bewildering change in her demeanour that I feared I must have caused offence. She looked down at the ground and stood for a moment; shoulders slouched like a sulky teenager. Slowly she returned her gaze to me. She drew in a deep breath, gently rested her hand on my arm and said with a degree of solemnity usually reserved for the delivery of devastating news, “Well, I might just have caught you in time.”

And in that one sentence she had succeeded in lodging herself firmly under my skin and elbowing herself into my house and mind. What had she meant? Did she think my work wasn’t good enough? Had I misunderstood the brief?

“Tea or coffee?” I asked.

Without hesitation, she had passed me on the threshold, and I found myself following in her perfumed wake as she proceeded along the hallway. By the time we reached the kitchen, she had defaulted to her previous cheery self.

“What’s your dog’s name?” she cooed, gesturing to the still-sleeping pouch; hind legs poking out from beneath the table.

“Oh, that’s AJ,” I replied, lifting the kettle to fill it with water. “She’s my parent’s dog. I’m just looking after her while they’re away. Her real name is Aergia but I refuse to call her by such a pompous name. She’s always been AJ to me.”

“Aergia!” she repeated, thoughtfully. Clearly deliberating over the name. “The personification of idleness!” she declared eventually, with a hint of triumph in her voice. “Very apt! Well, it seems dear Aergia and I bear the same cross.”

She sighed theatrically, and plonked herself into one of my chairs, her chiffon dress billowing as she did so. “My full name is ,” she continued forlornly. “I always insist though that everyone call me Theo, for short. I mean, ! A deity! What were my parent’s thinking”’ She gazed wistfully through the window, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. I caught her eyes rest upon a row of sorry looking houseplants, lining the windowsill, like an infantry of defeated soldiers.

“Those are in need of a bit of attention,” she declared, nodding her head in the direction of the neglected plants. She was right, of course and before I knew it, I was filling up my little watering can and making my way over to the window to give them a much-needed drink of water. Wondering on my way over, why a job I had put off for so long suddenly seemed so urgent. When I turned back to finish making the coffee and get down to the real reason for Theo’s visit, I was dumbfounded to find her stood at the kitchen sink, making a start on the precarious pile of dishes that had accumulated over the course of the last few days.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” I said with embarrassment, relieving her of the plate she was about to immerse into the soapy water.

“No, I insist,” she said firmly, taking another from the pile. “Let me help you, dear. ‘Declutter your space, declutter your mind’, as the saying goes. How do you possibly expect to get into a creative flow state with all this mess about!”

I couldn’t argue with that so I dutifully I picked up a dish towel and took my place beside her, diligently drying each item, as she regaled me with tales of her recent travels. Her vivid descriptions had the effect of transporting me to the olive groves of Crete, where I swear I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and smell the Jasmine in the air. Theo’s constant chattering slowly morphed into the background noise of hundreds of droning cicadas, providing me with a fully immersive experience. It was the sound of AJ’s dog flap clicking shut behind her as she lazily made her way into the garden that eventually snapped me out of my reverie. I was surprised to discover that between us we’d managed to clear the mountain of washing up.

“Well, we certainly deserve a cup of coffee now after all that hard work,” I said ushering Theo into the living room. “You make yourself at home in here and I’ll bring our coffees through in a minute.”

In the kitchen, away from Theo’s endless prattle, I took a moment to think about how to steer her focus back to the matter at hand and politely send her on her merry way. I resolved that the best option was to cut to the chase and ask Theo outright what she had meant when she’d so gravely said she had caught me in time. Armed with a coffee in each hand I strode purposefully into living room where I was met with Theo’s literal interpretation of my instruction to make herself at home. Sprawled on the sofa with her feet resting upon my coffee table, lay Theo, busily flicking through various TV channels before settling on a series I had recently started to watch.

“I’ve been watching this one too, Lyra. Isn’t it great!” she gushed, tapping the remote control on a space next to her on the sofa, indicating for me to sit. I obliged, sinking down into its familiar shape, and passed her the steaming mug. She took a noisy gulp and proceeded to press play. We sat there in my modest suburban home, mutely absorbed in the escapades of high-society women in New York until the upbeat tune of the end credits shifted my attention back to the present moment. I turned to Theo ready to confront her on the reasons for her visit, but to my astonishment she lay slack-jawed next to me, her eyelids fluttering in a state of deep sleep. A shiny slick of saliva had coursed its way down her chin. I gave her a sharp nudge.

“Theo, wake up,” I said. She woke with start. Her eyes wide with child-like bewilderment.

“I’m sorry Lyra. Did I doze off?” she uttered groggily.

“Yes,” I said. “Theo, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do need to get on with my project. The deadline is next week. Please can you explain what you meant when you said you caught me in time?” Theo stared at me for a moment, bemused.

“I meant just that, my dear,” she said eventually, shifting herself back into a seated position. “That I caught you in time! Before you started your project. How annoying would it be if I disturbed you in your creative flow,” she laughed.

“But they way you said it,” I persisted. “You implied there was a problem. Something you needed to speak with me about.”

“Did I?” she pondered out loud. Eyebrows raised quizzically.

“Yes!” I sighed; my tone steeped in exasperation. “You made me think there was something wrong with my chosen project and that you were going to tell me what it was before it was too late. Now I’ve wasted the best part of the morning,” I moaned.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Lyra,” she said, gently tapping my knee. “Look, I’ll just finish my coffee and then I’ll leave you to it.” She took a sip from her mug and grimaced. “This has gone cold. Let me make us both a fresh coffee,” she said snatching my mug from my hand. “The caffeine will help you to focus,” she called over her shoulder as she trotted back into the kitchen. I followed hot on her heels, catching up with her as she flicked the switch on the kettle.

“Listen!” I said firmly, seizing both mugs from her hands. “We can catch up for coffee anytime. Today I need to finish my work, so if you don’t mind, I’d be grateful if you’d leave.”

“Now, now Lyra,” Theo replied, clearly affronted. “No need to get angry. You carry on about your work, and I will see to the coffee. I will stay and oversee your project. Most people would be grateful to have my level of expertise to hand.” She grasped me by my shoulders and steered me in the direction of the table where my project awaited. I felt a gentle push in the centre of my back that must have set off a series of reactions that ignited a hot anger within me. I spun back furiously and returned the favour by grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her in the direction of the front door, hissing through clenched teeth, “I will go about my work, and you will go home, Theo.”

She stood for a moment facing the front door and then turned back to me. Her face was momentarily expressionless and then at last she let out a short burst of laughter. Despite myself I found myself laughing too for the absurdity of it all. I watched as Theo’s shoulders began to tremble and for an awful moment, I thought she was about to cry but instead she let out a roar of uncontrollable laughter, tears streamed down her face and she gasped for breath. She showed no signs of leaving though, so at a loss for what to do I grabbed a fistful of my art supplies and flung them at her. Tubes of paint and brushes bounced off her, clattering at her feet, shocking her out of her hysterics. She stumbled back in the direction of the door. Encouraged, I took another swipe at the ammunition strewn across my table and threw a second round in her direction. She retreated further, slipping over on some spilled paint. I walked past her to open the door then offered my hand to help her up. Using the momentum of the pull and one final shove into her lower back I managed to push her back out onto the front porch. I swiftly slammed the door shut.

“There are a lot of leaves out here that need to be swept up, Lyra.” I heard her say. “Someone could get hurt.”

“Shut up Theo.” I yelled.

A few months later, back in my art class, I decided I should probably let Theo know that my project had been a success. I tried to beckon her over, but she ignored me as she had been doing ever since her visit, devoting her time now to just a few select students. I felt sorry for her. Perhaps she had meant well despite being such a nuisance that day. But I would never have finished my project if I’d let her stay.