Page 46 of Her Fixer Upper

‘What happened to Rock, Paper, Scissors?’ I said in mock indignation, determined to act normally. ‘Go on then, I suppose it’s a fair exchange.’

‘All’s fair when it comes to furniture.’

‘Won’t you get lonely, having all that space in a big double bed?’ I could have kicked myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

Charlie put his head on one side. ‘I’m not planning on sleeping in it by myself for the rest of my life,’ he said. For a moment, I hoped his comments were directed at me. And then I thought about the spider that might not have existed, and remembered the presence of Serena in Charlie’s life, and the thousand other reasons why complicating our house partnership would be a really, really bad idea, and reality came crashing back.

I turned back to pretend I was intent on examining the wardrobe.

‘Do you think it’ll fit through the doorway?’

‘We got it into the house, so I don’t see why not. I can always remove the door if we need a bit of extra space.’

‘If you’re promising a re-run of when you “removed” my bedroom window, then I’d rather you didn’t.’

Charlie laughed. ‘I like to think my house skills have improved since then. Come on. I know what you’re like, you’re trying delaying tactics. The sooner we get this into your room, the sooner we can take a break.’

‘Or get started on sprucing up those beds. Now the prospect of sleeping in a comfortable bed has been dangled in front of me, I want to get on with it.’

‘You and me both,’ said Charlie. I turned my face away so he couldn’t see my expression.

Once the furniture was in place, basic as it was, the house seemed to transform from a building site into something that actually resembled a proper home. I could overlook the crumbling plasterwork when there was a comfy sofa ready to collapse on in front of it, and the bare floorboards were significantly improved by the addition of some mats and rugs that I found in the bargain bucket at a charity shop. It was still a long way off being perfect, but it was getting there.

Charlie and I had never formally discussed it, but those times when we weren’t working on house renovations or popping to the hospital to visit Granddad were now spent together in some kind of shared activity, almost as if we were an actual couple, although I kept telling myself not to think like that. And despite his comment about the double bed, he showed no sign of inviting Serena around to share it, even after we’d spent an afternoon in the garden rubbing the metal down and treating it until it was shining again. When we installed it in his room, I thought I caught his eyes on me and felt a burst of longing, but when I looked back, he was apparently concentrating on fitting the frame together, at which point I firmly reminded myself to keep a handle on any wayward feelings.

The transformation of my single bed was much less successful, but even though I couldn’t get rid of all the rust, it was strong enough to hold a proper mattress, and that was all that mattered to me. But the first night I slept in it, I struggled to drift off. I’d obviously grown far too accustomed to the privations of the camping lifestyle. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it was another milestone in our house renovation, and therefore another milestone closer to the day when we would be selling up and going our separate ways.

ChapterTwenty-Two

As well as having to keep a close eye on Ted when he was outside, it turned out we needed to watch him when he was inside too. He might be a small dog, but he certainly had a big presence and didn’t allow us to forget he was around. On the plus side, at least it provided me with plenty of funny stories to share with Granddad, but it was definitely to the detriment of the renovation schedule.

We’d reached the momentous point of being able to paint the kitchen. Despite its initially unpromising appearance, it had turned out to be the only room that didn’t need completely re-plastering, even after the electrician had done her worst. The plan of work I had drawn up went as follows: paint kitchen, build and install new kitchen cabinets, fit white goods, put flooring down, kitchen complete. It looked so simple on paper, but I should have known better; nothing to do with renovating Oak Tree Cottage was ever simple.

‘You look like one of those poster girls from the 1940s, you know, the ones where they’re flexing their arms and saying things like “We can do it”,’ said Charlie, reaching out and tweaking the headscarf which I’d tied over my hair in an attempt to protect it from paint. If there was one thing I’d learned from the step-by-step guide to painting your ceiling I’d read last night, it was that paint drips went everywhere.

‘Yes, you’re definitely giving off sexy 40s pinup vibes, Freya,’ said Leila, who’d invited herself round to assist. ‘What do you think, Charlie?’ she asked, a wicked grin on her face. I shot her a warning glance, knowing she was trying to stir things up.

‘I stand by my original statement,’ said Charlie, enigmatically.

Leila rolled her eyes, disappointed not to have got a direct agreement out of him.

‘When you two have finished gossiping about me, do you think we could get to work?’ I asked, deciding it was time to move the conversation along. ‘What do you think of the colour, Leila?’

Using a screwdriver, I levered the lid of the paint tin open to reveal the contents.

‘Ta dah,’ chorused Charlie and I, both of us caught up in the moment. We’d spent hours robustly debating the merits of various different shades, trying out patches on the walls and shining lights on them at various angles until we were completely satisfied. The discussion about the tiles had gone on even longer, until eventually I’d admitted defeat and conceded that Charlie’s idea of green and cream ones in a chequerboard pattern looked better than my suggestion.

‘You spent how long picking this?’ said Leila. ‘What is it, magnolia?’

I knew she was only teasing but I felt rather hurt by her underwhelmed response.

Fortunately Charlie defended our decision.

‘Magnolia? How dare you! This is so much more than magnolia,’ he said, threatening her with the paintbrush.

Leila wafted it away. ‘I take it back. What do I know? You guys have taste. We all know that I have none and lazily relied on my relatives to pay for an interior designer to style my flat, like the poor little rich girl that I am.’

‘Woe is you indeed,’ I said, passing a paint roller across to her. ‘As punishment for that blatant attempt to play the emotionally deprived childhood card, you can have fun with the ceiling. And for future reference, this colour is “Grecian Skies”, a warm white which has undertones of the yellow sun and blue seas of summer in the Greek islands.’

---