“Yes.”
“Is it an undercoat or something?”
“You’re not a fan, Mara?” he says, his lip curling into a smile.
“Um. Not especially,” I say, cursing my inability to lie about it. “But I’m still very grateful you’re doing it. I’m worried about color choices. How will we choose them? Can we discuss it properly before it’s finalized?”
All these upgrades in my life are starting to feel like upheaval.It’s too much.
“We can. You’ve been so flat-out with work and the election, I did wonder if you would prefer we just went ahead and took the decision away from you,” he says. “This is just a testing patch anyway. There’s swatches on the floor by the TV for you to look through. But at any stage, you just tell me if you want me to make the decision for you.”
“What if we put all the colors into a jar and pick one out?” I say, the stress starting to overwhelm me. “Leave it to fate?”
Ash finds this hilarious.
Just then, two other men in boilersuits emerge from the bathroom, carrying the toilet. Mercifully neither is showing as much skin as Ash is.
“What are you doing with the toilet?” I ask the two men, bothof whom are staring at me and then across to Ash, almost identical wry smiles on their faces. I shift slightly in my place.
“You must be the lovely Mara,” says one, a large potbellied man with a bald head and a pink, glowing, sweaty face. “Beautiful day for it.” The other nods between heavy grunts as they carry it out and toss it in a trailer outside.
“What’s going on in the bathroom?” I ask nervously, turning to Ash, frowning.
“The toilet had a crack in the bowl, so it needs replacing, and we have a spare at the shop,” he says, tucking his hand under his armpit and across his chest as he speaks, as though he’s just realized he’s half-naked. “There was a break in the books, and the boys were happy to jump in. Don’t look so freaked out, it’s only the toilet and the bath we’re replacing. Everything else is a lick of paint or varnish.”
I stare at him hard, my heart leaping to a gallop as I try to find a way to communicate that I’m grateful, but the lack of warning and consultation and the number of people in my space have made me extraordinarily anxious. I worry they’ve gone in my room, which I have been forgetting to lock of late.
“Is it too hard to find a thank-you in there?” he says, grinning and waving the paintbrush in my direction, before turning back to continue with short, feathered strokes along the edge of the door.
When I don’t respond, Ash stops and turns to me, his head sideways. He frowns. “Sorry, Mara. I should have warned you.”
“Asked you,” I say, correcting him.
“Asked you,” he replies, nodding in agreement. “Trade habit, I’m afraid. I get asked and I do it. I thought you’d appreciate me just getting on with it.”
“Of course, yes,” I say, holding both my hands up and shaking my head. “I’m really grateful. I am. I’m just... I feel...”
I want to say I feel invaded, but I know it makes me sound even more ungrateful. Ash is looking at me, his face more pity now than frustration. And perhaps he also looks apologetic.
“It’s your space. I get it,” he says. “Next time we’ll do a coin toss to decide what to do, right?”
He’s teasing, but I cringe. After six weeks of easiness with Ash, there it is. The first full-on Mara-ism, the first neurotic thing, the first spark of crazy beginning to show itself. I look nervously across to my room. I hope they haven’t been in there too.
The two other builders return and Ash nods at the bald one. “Gummy can talk you through everything we’re doing. And then later tonight I can give you a rough estimate of timings so you know what’s going on. I’ll make sure you’re across it all. Can you show Mara what’s happening, Gummy?”
“Sure!” Gummy says, beaming at me. “Let’s do the grand tour. We haven’t touched your room. Ash said we had to ask you about that first.”
“Oh, it’s good to know he has some boundaries,” I say, trying to make light of things.
Gummy laughs, but I’m not sure he knows why he’s laughing, as he flings open the bathroom door. “New bath, new paint, new toilet. That’s the lion’s share of the heavy work, really. The rest is just surface stuff.”
“But how will I shower?” I ask. “It’s amazing, of course, but how long until—”
“Oh, right!” he butts in. “Ash got an old one from a house we just renovated down in Margate. Ash—you didn’t tell her about thebathtub?” he calls into the other room, and Ash answers with a simple “No, it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Ash didn’t tell me any of this,” I say.
“Classic Ash,” he replies.
