“It does,” I reply. “Ciao!”
Theo’s next, looking beleaguered, followed by a stony-faced Callum and Mabel. But the interesting thing is, once the kids step outside and catch sight of the builders in the driveway, their scowls disappear. A memory from my childhood flickers to life but I can’t quite grasp it.
Once we’ve all sat down and are eating, I outline the renovation project. I explain that over the next six weeks, the builders will be changing the electrics in the house, damp-proofing the ground floor, replacing all the windows, and stripping out and refitting the kitchen and bathrooms. Once that’s done, they’ll re-plaster the walls—except for those that have been left with exposed stone—and give everything a fresh coat of paint. There are other things I’d like to do but this is already pushing the limits of my budget.
“Before the builders can get going,” I tell everyone, “we need to clear out the house. And that’s where you come in.”
“What do you mean?” asks Callum, pulling at a piece of cereal that’s stuck in his brace.
“You’re going to help us,” says Theo.
Callum flicks the cereal onto the lawn.
“We’re throwing away most of my great-uncle’s stuff,” I explain. “And anything that’s broken or seen better days.”
“Which basically means the entire house,” murmurs Mabel.
“Not quite the entire house,” I chirp. “I want it to keep the look and feel of an old Tuscan farmhouse. But we will be throwing away lots. And what we can’t recycle or donate we’ll burn on a bonfire.”
“I love bonfires!” says Archie, biting into an egg.
“Me too.” I lean on the table. “So what do you say? Will you help us?”
“Yeah!” Archie whoops.
“Superb,” says Theo, smoothing down Archie’s hair. He turns to Callum and Mabel. “But we’re going to need you all to chip in and do your bit.”
“Dad, that’s slave labor!” Callum burbles.
Mabel pouts. “You can’t make us!”
But I notice that their protests are much quieter than usual and they glance over to check the builders can’t hear them.
“This is a working holiday,” Theo says, firmly. “We were always clear about that.”
Callum pushes his bowl away. “Well,I’mnot working.”
Theo spreads jam on his toast. “Fine. You can do some schoolwork. As you’re going into GCSE year it’s probably a good idea to get a head start.”
“Dad, that’s not fair!”
But the builders are approaching and Callum and Mabel contort their faces into smiles.
“Hello!” the men chorus as they lumber past, tools slung over their shoulders and tucked under their arms.
“We are sorry we invade your house,” says one of them, a man with a tattoo of a scorpion on his neck.
“That’s OK,” I insist. “As soon as we’ve eaten this, we’ll start clearing everything out.”
“My children were just saying how much they’re looking forward to helping,” adds Theo. “Isn’t that right, gang?”
Archie warbles a loud yes. Callum and Mabel’s is much quieter—but it’s a yes all the same.
“Very good,” says the builder with the tattoo. “Very good children.”
And just like that, the matter’s settled.
If only the builders could come seven days a week.
