He’s wearing a visor with in-built ear defenders plus heavy-duty gloves, and sparks are flying out to either side of him with the glow of a hundred sparklers. He’s cutting the steel into the sizes we need; later, he’ll be welding them together to make the faceted steel frame to which the hinges will be bolted.
“Do all race engineers know how to weld?” I asked him last night.
“Just the ones brought up on farms,” he replied with a grin.
The steel had arrived that afternoon, so we’d relocated to the kitchen table to work out the angles we’d need to construct the internal framework.
“Dad’s probably got a hundred-year-old set square around here somewhere,” he mused, but before he could get up to go and start riffling through drawers in the office, I pulled my own adjustable one out of my backpack.
“I’m an architect, I always carry a set square,” I said.
I still get such a kick from making him laugh.
I had a wobble the other day, after hearing that Jonas had ordered the steel. Changing a 1960s Airstream seemed so sacrilegious, but then I considered what architects do to listed buildings all the time. We adapt them to bring them into use, and as long as the adaptations are sensitive and any changes are easy enough to revert back, then it’s generally acceptable. With this in mind, and after discussing it with Anders, we decided to bolt rather than weld the steel frame onto the subframe so that it can be easily removed in the future. We’re not cutting up any of the Airstream’s existing panels, so everything can be put back exactly as it was. I feel better now that we’ve made that decision.
My phone buzzes and I drag my attention away from Anders to look at a text that’s come in.
No way! What’s it like inside?
My heart jumps. It’s from Scott.
I finally caved and sent him a picture of Bambi earlier, along with the messageCan you believe I found this under a tarp at Dad’s place?!
There was no good time to hurl it off into the ether. He works with Nadine and for all I know he’s living with her too, so there was every chance she’d be there when he received it. I do suspect, however, that she may be the sort of girl who can handle her boyfriend staying friends with his ex. Hopefully, it won’t hurt to test that theory.
I tap out a reply.Here’s a before shot.I attach a photo Itook before any work began.And here’s what we’re up to now.I send him one that I snapped this morning.
You’ve done so much! What will you clad the interior with?
Birch-faced ply, I think.
Nice. Easy to curve.
Exactly.
Please keep sending me updates.
And then another message pops up.
Thanks for getting in touch. It’s good to hear from you.
My nerves had settled over the course of our exchange, but they ramp up again now.
You too, I reply.
I stare at the screen for a long moment, but that appears to be the end of our texting session.
As I put my phone away, I try to imagine what it would be like if Scott and I were still together, if he was here helping me with the Airstream renovation and we were planning a trip across America. We got on so well when we went on our road trip last summer.
A memory comes back to me of that holiday. We’d just crossed the border into the national park in the north of Portugal and had decided to walk to a waterfall. The climb downa cliff face to reach it was a little precarious, as was navigating the series of smooth, slippery boulders protruding from the river, but it was worth the effort to reach the glorious white waterfall tumbling down yellow and charcoal stone into a deep emerald-green pool.
Scott dared me to jump straight into the water, which was extremely—though not bitingly—cold, but I intended to take it slowly and let my blood adjust to the temperature. Then I stepped onto a boulder that was just beneath the surface, my feet flew out from under me, and suddenly I was up to my neck and gasping.
Scott found this to be absolutely hilarious, and then the exact same thing happened to him and I nearly died laughing.
The memory makes me smile. We did have fun together. But as I look over at Anders, still hard at work, I can’t imagine doing this renovation with anyone but him.
Scott and I had some good times, but weweren’ta perfect fit.
