Roald Dahl wasn’t just the "BFG" guy. Honestly, if you only know him for chocolate factories and giant peaches, the landlady full story is going to be a massive shock to your system. It’s dark. It’s subtle. It’s basically the literary equivalent of a cold hand brushing against the back of your neck in a dark room.
The story first appeared in The New Yorker back in 1959. It’s short, but it packs more dread into a few pages than most 400-page horror novels manage. You’ve probably seen it in school or stumbled across it in an anthology like Kiss Kiss. The premise is simple: a young man named Billy Weaver arrives in Bath for work, finds a suspiciously cheap Bed and Breakfast, and meets a nice old lady.
Except she isn't nice. Not even a little bit.
What Actually Happens in The Landlady Full Story?
Billy Weaver is seventeen. He’s wearing a new navy-blue overcoat, a new brown trilby hat, and a new brown suit. He’s feeling "brisk." That’s the word Dahl uses. He’s trying to be a successful businessman, and his briskness is his armor. But he’s also incredibly naive. When he sees a sign in a window that says "BED AND BREAKFAST," it literally hypnotizes him.
He rings the bell.
The door opens instantly. Like, unnaturally fast. This is the first red flag, but Billy just thinks she's a "terribly nice" lady. He enters the house, and that's where things get weird. The air smells like pickled walnuts or new leather. Or maybe it’s the smell of a hospital? Billy can’t quite put his finger on it.
The Guest Book Mystery
The Landlady tells Billy that the room is ready, and it’s dirt cheap. She seems a bit dotty, maybe a little "off her rocker," but harmless. She insists he sign the guest book. When Billy looks at the book, he sees only two other names: Christopher Mulholland and Gregory W. Temple.
He knows those names.
They’re familiar in that way names from old news headlines are. He’s certain he saw them in the papers. He remembers Mulholland was an Eton schoolboy who went missing. But the Landlady insists they are still there. She says they’re on the third floor. Together.
The Horror is in the Tea
This is where the psychological mastery of the landlady full story really kicks in. They sit down for tea. The Landlady starts talking about how Billy has "perfect teeth" and how Mr. Mulholland also had very white teeth.
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She’s watching him.
Billy notices a parrot in a cage and a dachshund curled up by the fire. He thinks how lucky he is to find such a cozy spot. But then he realizes something chilling. The parrot isn't moving. Neither is the dog. He touches the parrot, and it's stiff. It’s stuffed.
"I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away," she says.
Then comes the kicker. Billy drinks his tea. It tastes faintly of bitter almonds. If you’ve ever read a classic mystery, you know exactly what that means. Bitter almonds is the tell-tale scent of potassium cyanide.
Decoding the Ending: Did Billy Die?
Dahl doesn't show you a body. He doesn't describe a struggle. He just lets the tea sit there.
The story ends with Billy asking if there have been any other guests in the last two or three years. The Landlady looks at him, smiles, and says, "No, my dear. Only you."
That's it.
The implication is heavy enough to crush a person. Billy is about to become a permanent resident. Literally. She’s going to taxidermy him just like she did with the parrot, the dog, Mulholland, and Temple.
Why the "Bitter Almonds" Detail Matters
Some readers miss the chemistry here. Cyanide works fast. By the time Billy notices the taste, he’s already a dead man walking. The Landlady's "kindness" is the ultimate trap. She isn't a ghost, and she isn't a monster in the supernatural sense. She’s a serial killer with a very specific, very macabre hobby.
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She likes "young, handsome" men. She preserves them.
The Psychological Depth of Billy Weaver
Why didn't he just leave?
This is the question everyone asks when they read the landlady full story for the first time. Billy had plenty of chances. He felt the "compulsion" to enter. He noticed the names in the book. He smelled the weird chemicals.
But Billy is a victim of his own politeness. He’s a product of a specific era of British decorum where you don't insult your elders, even if they're acting like complete lunatics. He doesn't want to be "brisk" enough to be rude. He suppresses his instincts to remain a "gentleman."
Dahl is making a point about how social graces can be a death sentence.
Real-Life Inspirations and Literary Context
While the story is fiction, it taps into the very real "Bluebeard" trope—the idea of the hospitable host with a secret room full of bodies. It also mirrors the real-life horrors of people like Leonarda Cianciulli, the "Soap-Maker of Correggio," who turned her victims into soap and tea cakes, though Dahl’s version is much more "polite."
Critics often group this story with Dahl’s other adult fiction, like Lamb to the Slaughter. These stories aren't about jump scares. They're about "The Twist."
- Subversion of Motherhood: The Landlady is a grandmotherly figure, which makes her violence more jarring.
- The Unreliable Setting: The cozy fire and the warm tea are weapons, not comforts.
- Stasis: The idea of being preserved—never aging, never leaving—is a horrifying inversion of immortality.
How to Analyze the Story Today
If you’re studying this for a class or just revisiting it as an adult, look at the pacing. Dahl uses "foreshadowing" like a sledgehammer, but he wraps it in silk.
The way she looks him up and down.
The way she says his "body is just right."
The way she refers to the other boys in the present tense.
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It’s a masterclass in tension. You’re screaming at Billy to run, but he’s already sitting down. He’s already drinking the tea.
Common Misconceptions
People sometimes think the Landlady is a witch. There’s no evidence for that in the text. She doesn't use magic; she uses taxidermy. The "hypnotic" sign at the beginning is likely just Billy’s own tired mind playing tricks on him, or perhaps a psychological trick of the lighting and the cold night.
Another theory is that the other boys are alive and "preserved" in a medical sense. But the mention of the stuffed dog and parrot pretty much confirms their fate. They are stuffed husks on the third floor.
Actionable Takeaways for Readers
After finishing the landlady full story, there are a few things you should do to truly appreciate the depth of this work and the genre it represents.
1. Read "Lamb to the Slaughter"
If you enjoyed the dark irony of the Landlady, this is the logical next step. It’s another Dahl classic where a domestic setting becomes a crime scene. It involves a frozen leg of lamb. That's all I'll say.
2. Watch the 1979 Adaptation
Tales of the Unexpected (Series 1, Episode 5) features a fantastic TV version of this story. Seeing the Landlady’s face as she talks about the "perfect" teeth of her guests adds a whole new layer of creepiness that the page can only hint at.
3. Pay Attention to "Bitter Almonds" in Literature
Keep an eye out for this scent in other mystery novels (Agatha Christie used it constantly). It’s the ultimate Easter egg for fans of the macabre.
4. Research the Art of Taxidermy
To understand the Landlady's "hobby," look into Victorian taxidermy. It was a common, if slightly weird, pastime. Knowing the process of skinning and stuffing makes the fate of Christopher Mulholland significantly more gruesome.
5. Trust Your Gut
The ultimate lesson of Billy Weaver’s demise? If a deal seems too good to be true—like a gorgeous B&B for a fraction of the price—it probably is. And if the air smells like formaldehyde, don't drink the tea. Just don't do it.
The brilliance of Roald Dahl lies in his ability to make the mundane feel predatory. He takes a "terribly nice" old lady and a cup of tea and turns them into a nightmare that has stayed relevant for over sixty years. Billy Weaver wanted to be a success. Instead, he became a permanent part of the furniture.