“We’re not together, Mum. Honestly, we’re not even really friends anymore. We’re just working the same job.”
She didn’t say anything, just smiled and got a faraway look. Usually, that look broke my heart, but this time, herexpression had a different quality. This time, it was in the moment and happy.
Take a sneak peek at our new show,
MAKEOVER YOUR MONEYMAKER.
Four design teams compete to turn a home into a business.
Team: Tim and Tabitha.
50 Comments:
ShakeYourMoneymaker:OMG Tabs and Tim—FI-YAH! I can feel the steam coming off them. I predict a rumbling-good sex scene in their future.
TimTheBuilder:Duck, duck. DOWN, Tim. (And I’m coming with you.)
RugbyThighs69:That man. Gets. Shit. Done. Agree with Insta comments: Major BDE.
IWantTimToNailMe2:Preach.Her, though? Shrill! A total shrew.
DarkAleOrDie:She’s a bore, terribly dull, a total stickler.
CotwoldsOwn:Tabitha, calm down! Listen to Tim. And a smile goes a long way, love.
LaIslaBonita:She’s not your love, you patronizing berk.
15
Tabitha
Istarted the nextday, Sunday, feeling more optimistic and fresher. I was rested and without a hangover. My limbs were sore from working hard the day before, but it was a good kind of sore.
We worked every second of the morning, barely stopping for lunch, until a young guy appeared with a flourish through the kitchen doorway. He had a very complicated blond eighties haircut, swooping up on the sides and around in the front. He studied me as he adjusted the padded shoulders of his royal-blue cropped jacket. Dismissively, he furrowed his brow, then turned his attentions to Freya, Poppy, and Phoebe with much more enthusiasm.
“Hello, Aberdeeen,” Freya said. “Everyone—this is Aberdeeen, the presenter of our first show.”
“Spelled with three e’s,” Aberdeeen said. He showed us the sign in his hand and waved it around. “Found this in the bush outside.” The old sign that stood out front for years. It originally read “Titchcoque House.” Except the “ch” had fallen off, which now spelled…
“Titcoque House?” he boomed out, addressing us all. “What the—posh people, amirite? Who else could get away with calling their home Titcock?”
Oops, I hoped he wasn’t going to repeat that on telly.
Freya swept up and relieved him of the battered sign.
Aberdeeen gave an impatient flick with his hands. “People, let’s be quick, shall we? I’ve got another shoot back in London.”
Freya tossed the sign in the rubbish and turned to Simon. “Seriously, let’s get going, because this guy’s incredibly expensive.”
“He’s much smaller in person,” Phoebe said, as though she wasn’t standing right in front of Aberdeeen, and lowered her boom.
“Tim, Talitha, get on either side of the presenter, will you?” Simon said.
“It’s Tim and Tabitha,” Tim said, his voice grating with irritation.
We both edged over and stood awkwardly on either side of Aberdeeen.
Aberdeeen put an arm around each of our shoulders, but on mine, his hand was hovering like he didn’t really want to touch me—or maybe Freya had debriefed him that he had to keep his mitts to himself—and for that, I was grateful.
