“So, I can’t actually have a shower?”
“Not for a couple of weeks, I imagine,” Gummy replies, opening the door to Ash’s room, which is a hideous tip, with everything pushed into the center of the room, large white streaks where they’ve filled cracks in the plaster, and tape around every skirting board and the window frame.
“Walls fixed, and we’re going to strip the window back to the wood and stain it.”
“Okay,” I reply, nodding. Nothing too major here, but then Ash’s little bedroom is in the best shape.
“As I said, we haven’t touched your room,” he says, pointing to my bedroom door. “Ash said we had to wait until you got home. Do you want us to fix any cracks and prep the paint?”
“God, this is some pressure,” I say.
“We can do it next time,” he says, laughing at my ill ease. “Give you some time to think. And we’ll paint those cabinets in the kitchen, I thought. We’ll take this top cupboard out, too, so you can get a bigger fridge if you want. This wood countertop here, it used to be the counter for the old shop. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? A couple of hundred years old it is, by my reckoning. You can see all the old indentations from the hammers.”
I look down at the wood, at what was just a few hours ago an old shaggy slab of oak and is now a dented thing of historic wonder. I feel my heart soften at the thought.This is all good, Mara. Let go.
“Place was a key cutter I think,” Gummy continues, and I nod.
“Yes,” I reply. “I think the woman who owns it, her husband ran it as one.”
“Sure, but this is from even further back—must have been a shoemaker back before that. A Georgian shoemaker. Those grooves? See them? Ash said we should sand it, oil it, and see if we can find a couple of stools so you’ve got a breakfast bar. All in all, she’s going to look pretty sweet.”
I’m all in, by the end. I’m overwhelmed, but also, a small part of me is thrilled to bits by all the suggestions and at how it all might come together.
“When do you think you’ll be done?” I ask. “Not to hurry you, of course.”
“Depends. We should get quite a bit done today; then, it’s when we’re free, really. We’re spending most of Friday at the lido, getting it ready for the cinema. But we’ll have it finished in the next few weeks. I’m sure before the summer’s over.”
Before the last Friday in August?I wonder.
We head back into the main lounge, where Ash is finishing up his undercoat and the third guy seems to have managed to unstick the front window.
“Oh my God, fresh air,” I say, and Ash turns around and grins at me.
“There’s that smile,” he teases. “Hey, look, Mara. Sorry again. It was just an impulsive decision ’cos we had time and Mrs. Watson said we could, and nothing here can’t be changed or halted. Except the toilet. And maybe the bath.”
I realize that all three of them are looking at me now, big smiling faces, proud of their surprise home makeover.
“I’m so grateful I could cry,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
Gummy comes over and throws a huge arm around my shoulders, which I cannot shrink away from.
I look over at Ash, who has turned away from me, and I feel tears coming. “I just need to make a call and do some other... things. And then if you’re still here I’ll make you all a cup of tea,” I say quickly. And then: “Thank you.”
But once I’ve closed the door of my room I don’t come out. I sit there begging and praying no one knocks as I change into some slouchy pants and an old T-shirt.
I need someone to talk me down, so I check the time. It’s 6:34, and I know Charlie will be in the middle of bedtime. I can’t call, but I message her instead.
Can you talk? I need a talking to. x
Then I wait for a reply. Two minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Nothing.
And so I call Samira.
“Hi, Samira,” I say when she answers, before launching right into it.
“Two things. Can you take me shopping again?”
“You need to do your clear-out first.”
