SPOILERS: Inside The Lodger's biggest twists

Now that The Lodger has been out in the world for a while, I thought I’d take some time to unpack the whys behind a lot of what happens in the book, including some choices that I suspect seem a little counterintuitive. If you haven’t listened to it yet, stop now, because from here on in I’ll be spoiling everything about this book that brings to a bloody end the story started in ​The Hitchhiker.
 
So, to kick off, let’s chat one of the biggest risks I took in the novel.

 
Ryan and Sophie
 
To delve into this aspect of The Lodger means touching a little bit on its background. Originally The Hitchhiker was only ever intended as a standalone book, but I enjoyed writing the murderous character of the Driver so much that I used him again in The Caretaker, also intended as a standalone. Given one of these books was (at that stage) only out on Audible while the other was a print novel, I couldn’t link them too directly but I also couldn’t help but think towards a third book that might bring the two together and create an unofficial ‘Driver Trilogy’.
 
Originally I toyed with the idea of having Maggie and Charlotte join forces to hunt down The Driver after their respective run ins with him, but that felt too obvious and cute. Plus I always knew that Charlotte was a one-and-done protagonist, that her story concluded in The Caretaker. Conversely Maggie was left in a place of unfinished business regarding the Driver. So I decided to focus predominantly on her desperate hunt for the monster that understands her all too well. I would touch on The Caretaker by having Maggie learn about the events of that book as part of her investigation, but otherwise this would be a direct sequel to The Hitchhiker.
 
But the more I developed the more I found the ‘hunt’ story increasingly thin. As compelling as the dynamic between Maggie and the Driver was to me, could it really sustain an entire book? Maggie might have been conflicted about what the Driver represents to her, but when push came to shove she wasn’t really going to hesitate to kill him. Which would mean contriving all sorts of ways to keep them apart, a problem I did not have with the far more cautious Charlotte in The Caretaker.
 
Around this time I was working on a prologue that would see The Driver play twisted marriage counsellor to a bitterly unhappy couple, as a way to establish who he is to new readers and give a ghoulish little ‘pre-credits’ scene to old ones. But the more I planned it out, the more I started to wonder if this ‘mini story’ was, in fact, the story.
 
I knew from the start that this would be contentious. Would readers really want to spend so much time with new characters, especially such unlikeable new characters, when this was supposed to be the grand finale to a bigger story?
 
My reasoning was this; both The Hitchhiker and The Caretaker got to have their own plots, characters and concerns distinct from each other. To me, The Lodger would have been lesser if it was only a culmination rather than a complete story in its own right. So I decided to split the difference. Alternating chapters focusing on alternating characters would allow me to parallel Maggie’s hunt with the Driver’s manipulation of Ryan and Sophie’s miserable marriage. Throw in a Jack Carlin return and the continuation of some older plot elements, and this felt to me like the way to give readers the best of all worlds. It allowed the book a kind of internal integrity but also meant that you do get a full fledged major Maggieverse instalment at the same time.
 
This also let me have some real fun with Ryan and Sophie. Because I knew the book would be regularly returning to well liked familiar characters, it meant I didn’t have to worry about making these new players at all sympathetic. Instead I could have some real fun doing the exact opposite.
 
Much of Ryan and Sophie’s story was shaped by what I found funny. I loved the idea that during their city courtship both of them played up a dream of settling in the country without ever seriously imagining it might happen – until Ryan’s Dad dies and leaves them the farm, and neither is able to call the other’s bluff. This felt like rich storytelling ground, especially once you drop the Driver and his games into the mix.
 
There’s something a bit satirical to both these characters, but I find them very sad at their cores. Sophie is inspired by people I knew at uni who borderline fetishised the idea of a provincial country existence without knowing the first thing about it. But at the same time she reflects one of my least favourite attitudes and one I’ve seen all too often; the belief that ‘my big problem is that I’m too good at too many things so I don’t try enough at any of them’. Arrogance as an excuse for apathy doesn’t go a long way to endearing people to your plight.  
 
Then there’s Ryan. This character isn’t as directly reflective of people I’ve actually known, but there are several things at play here. The whole notion of a country kid who hated the country and couldn’t wait to leave but starts leaning into where he came from the moment he realises it gives him social capital was a lot of fun. And furthermore somebody who doesn’t actually want to go into the family business but does in order to prove themselves to a disapproving father felt true to a lot of what I saw growing up. I’ve never known a Ryan exactly, but in totality his arc always felt emotionally honest and interesting.
 
If Ryan is someone who has never felt ‘man enough’ and Sophie someone who believes her brilliance has always been overlooked, then the Driver murdering people around town and making each believe the other could be the killer was a thrilling way to capitalise on their particular brands of toxicity. As Ryan dithers over what would be the most masculine way to respond, Sophie is alarmingly turned on by the idea that her hitherto disappointing husband might actually kill for her, tacitly reinforcing her belief in how special she must be. Granted it’s a lot, but I was laughing the whole time.
 
Of course it all had to end badly for them. I knew these were one-and-done characters so I didn’t hold anything back, and in the end Ryan accidently killing Sophie then, in an attempt to really demonstrate his manhood, killing the one person who could prove it wasn’t murder felt appropriate in that it was both deeply sad and darkly funny. And a way to comment on the key themes encapsulated by both of these characters; that refusing to accept or understand who you really are can never end well. Yes, it’s extreme, but come on, were you expecting anything else?

 
The Driver
 
Yeah, the Driver is dead, and yeah I still have doubts about the choice. But one of the reasons I had to kill him so definitively was to take off the table any temptation to bring him back for another round. He’s gone and this time it’s not a fake-out. Considering his head exploded, it really couldn’t be.
 
I knew, coming into this book, that I couldn’t pull the same trick as Hitchhiker or Caretaker. There was never going to be another “he’s dead… OR IS HE?” ending because there was no way I’d get away with it a third time.
 
But in the early stages I had no intention of killing the Driver off. He’s such a fun character and so easy to write that I figured I’d keep him around for future nightmares. In fact, my original intended ending for The Lodger was that Maggie decides to hand him over to the police, setting the stage for a book called The Prisoner where our beleaguered hero from The Hitchhiker, Jesse, is serving out a sentence only to find his tormentor locked up with him.
 
But as I wrote a few things became clear to me. The first was that as fun as the Driver is, he’s not a particularly layered character and the more he comes back the more diminishing the returns. At his heart he’s a happy go lucky middle-aged dag who happens to really enjoy serial murder. The one complicating factor is his hunt for a partner of sorts, and once Maggie, the most perfect partner he could find, rejects him that quest is basically over. There might have been a bit more I could have done with him, but not enough to justify contriving new stories that would be less interesting each time. The more I considered it the more certain I became that this would be it for the Driver. A trilogy of books I could be really proud of felt, to me, the better choice than some perpetually open-ended series that would start to repeat itself sooner than anyone would like.
 
So if this was to be it for my smiling psychopath, what was the most satisfying way to dispatch him?
 
Well, probably not the one I ultimately went with. If you’re disappointed that it was miserable pathetic Ryan who finally did him in rather than Maggie, then I get where you’re coming from. But Maggie’s ongoing journey is grappling with her own violent nature and the Driver represented the most thorough acceptance she’s ever likely to find. I’ll delve more into this below, but the entire reason Maggie is so drawn to him is because he sees the parts of herself she’s ashamed or scared of and he celebrates them. But Maggie’s final victory in this book is the moment she tells the Driver ‘I think I am like you, but I think I don’t want to be’. For her to then kill him would undermine that. And let’s be fair here – she tries to, its just that he gets the upper hand.
 
Remember that the Driver started out as an unfulfilled man in a depressing marriage. There was something fitting about his end coming at the hands of another unfulfilled man in another depressing marriage. I liked the idea that the Driver doesn’t get a big glorious final showdown. I liked the idea that Ryan’s final act of decisive ‘revenge’ is what damns him. I liked the idea that Maggie actually tries to save the Driver at the end but his death means she has to stay on the run. When it came to unifying the various threads of plot and theme that run throughout The Lodger, this was the way to do it.
 
Of course I question it. I question whether I killed him too soon or whether there was a better death for him. But we’re over a year out from me actually settling on this ending, and so far I have no regrets. You don’t have to like it. But it’s the right ending.
​
 
Maggie and Jack
 
All of which brings me to our two old friends.
 
Maggie, of course, was always going to be in this book. I might have hidden her role in The Hitchhiker (more or less), but this time around she would have to play a major part after the way that book ended.
 
Maggie has grappled with her affinity for violence before. In The Inheritance we saw her settle on trying to use it for good. But when somebody as psychotic as the Driver comes along and offers acceptance and understanding, I could see how much that would unbalance the already lonely and unstable Maggie.
 
This was where Jack Carlin came in. I’ve made no secret of how much I like Carlin. Apart from his supporting role in The Inheritance he’s also the lead of my first Audible Original The Consequence, appears in my lockdown web series The Pact and my short film The Retirement Plan, and will be on protagonist duties again in next year’s High-Rise. Clearly I’ll take any excuse to involve him in a story and I had a good one here – that Carlin would be Maggie’s most obvious source of information when it came to tracking the whereabouts of the Driver.
 
But what started out as maybe a little indulgent soon became a crucial part of the story as Maggie is forced to consider how much she can trust Carlin. I think after The Inheritance I’d assumed a loyal partnership between them would be the status quo going forward, but as I wrote The Lodger I realised that we hadn’t quite earned that yet. So Maggie, with the Driver’s voice in her ear, does what she always does and assumes the worst, becoming convinced that Carlin is going to betray her, to the point where she turns on him.
 
But Carlin doesn’t betray her. He comes through at the end and saves her from the Driver. And in that moment Maggie realises that not only is he her friend, but that somebody doesn’t have to understand or like every part of you to accept you.
 
The final scene between Maggie and Jack in the car is one of my favourite moments I’ve ever written. It’s the most vulnerable we’ve seen Maggie and the way that Jack handles it, by telling her without bullshit exactly what she needs to hear, made me love these two so much more than I already did.
 
I finished The Lodger thinking that this wasn’t the end for Maggie, but that this moment of warmth and love could be a good place to leave her for a few years. As it turns out, we’ll be seeing a lot of her in the next few years. But the thing I like most about The Lodger was that this character for whom happiness is always out of reach got to have a moment of real peace before I throw her right back into the fray again. 

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