Page 13 of Full Service

I woke up in the morning in the knowledge I had been an absolute prick the night before.He deserved it, said my ever-helpful brain.Perhaps.He shouldn’t have had the gall to hold him being my landlord over my head. He shouldn’t have imposed himself on me like that.

But…we in Hiraeth had a tradition of helping people. And I’d been pretty reluctant to continue that tradition where Hywel was involved. Perhaps I’d been harsh on him to start with. So long as he could stay out of my way and not burden me in my own home we could live semi-comfortably with one another.

As soon as I left my room, that illusion was shattered a little. Hywel was in my kitchen, having boiled the kettle and put two cups of tea aside. That in itself was fine. What wasn’t fine was him having the audacity to have cleaned the kitchen worktops over and scrubbed at the dishes. They were drying in a rack and he was now polishing off the sink.

Hywel looked up at me with a smile. “Good morning, how are you?”

“Fine,” I muttered. Without saying another word I turned around and went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, stripped off and let warm water run over me until it sputtered. The old heating tank in the attic struggled to contain enough hotwater for a whole shower. It would take hours before it was hot enough for a shower again.

I pulled my towel from the rack, noticing for the first time that Hywel had put his alongside mine - it was fluffy and felt expensive. I looked to the sink and sure enough there was a fancy electric toothbrush next to my rattier one. At the bottom of the shower tray next to the 3-in-1 shower gel I used were 3 new bottles of smelly stuff. This man was feeling more and more like an imposition on my way of life. And it had only been two nights.

I didn’t even look over at him in the kitchen when I left the bathroom. I went straight into the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and vest and then pulled my overalls over them.

Not that I objected to getting this place cleaned up. God knows I wanted to when I had the time, but it was more the implication that I was messy. Like the same old Hywel from however long ago was still judging me based on not being as good as him. I bet his classy penthouse flat in London was sparkling.

“Toast?” he asked, holding out a plate. “Thanks,” I said. I took the plate before adding pettily, “So when are you leaving for the day?”

“Not today,” said Hywel with a smile that I noticed for the first time didn’t really reach his eyes. “Got some prep work to do on the laptop so I’ll base myself here.”

“And what is it exactly you’re doing here?” I asked.

“Stuff…y’know, things. I’m just here to check on my portfolio in the village. Make sure everyone is happy.” Hywel shifted from one foot to the other. He was hiding something.

“And am I?” I asked. I could feel the sly smile creeping across my face as he floundered.

“Sorry?” he said.

“Am I happy? You’re my landlord, you’re sleeping on my sofa. Surely I’d be the first person you asked.”

“Yes…quite. All in good time.” Hywel snatched the plate back and started scrubbing at it over the sink. He was hiding something, and I was determined to find out what. Why not just say he was here to see Prentis? And what kind of rush caused him to come here telling no one to expect him, or book a hotel? He might have thought I was stupid but there was more to me than that.

“I’m off to work,” I said. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

???

It had been a busy day. I had three MOTs and services to do on regular cars and an old client from Powys had driven his 1956 Bentley in for a service. It was a beauty of a car in stunning silver. I loved getting to work on these old beauties and was glad that I’d developed enough of a reputation to keep them coming from far and wide.

It wasn’t until about 6pm when my stomach was rumbling and I’d sent the last MOT on its merry way that I had time to sit down at the old computer at the back of the workshop and look at replacement parts for the Aston Martin. They were relatively inexpensive considering the calibre of the car because demand was so low, and I knew I could fix up some panels rather than having to replace them completely. I turned on the lights inside as the sun had set a while before and it was getting dark.

A plan had been formulating in my mind, one I wasn’t particularly proud of, but one that would benefit me immensely.

Hywel had said he would be staying until Christmas, and he’d take off a month’s rent for that. But he’d also said he would take off rent for however long it took to fix the car. So if I had it fixed this week? That was five weeks or so of rent for free. Great. Andthe fixes would be relatively easy, maybe 2 or 3 days of solid work. But things were busy, and time was short…

I spent a while looking online for the parts I needed - one door panel to replace the punctured one, a new bumper, wheel rims and potentially new hubcaps. I could order them from Europe and have them at the garage in a week, or I could order them from China, save me some money…and have them here the week before Christmas. Saving money on the parts and adding an extra 2 weeks to my rent-free period. I clicked and ordered from China. Because why the fuck not?

Despite my stomach rumbles, I was avoiding the flat. I knew why. It was because I still didn’t know how I felt about my privacy being invaded just weeks after I’d gotten it.

I started work on sanding the paint from the side of the Aston Martin. I hoped the paint I’d ordered would be a match, or I would have to repaint the whole thing and that would be a shame as the whole thing other than the one busted side had been maintained beautifully.

There was a gentle knock on the half-lowered shutters. “Can I come in?” called Hywel.

“Sure,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. I carried on sanding at the metal by the headlight. Somehow the glass hadn’t smashed despite the metal crumpling around it. “Got James Bond’s Aston Martin here,” I said. “Seems to have bulletproof glass.”

Hywel chuckled and set a plate down next to me. “I don’t know if you had a fridge down here but I didn’t want you going hungry. It’s late.”

“Thank you,” I said. It looked like he had raided my cupboards for pasta and pesto. Other than protein powder, milk and eggs, I didn’t have much more upstairs. I really had let life take a back seat . I sat cross-legged on the floor to eat it and Hywel joined me. He ran one hand over the dull grey of the Aston Martin that had been revealed under the paint.

“I suppose it has to get worse before it gets better. Can I give it a go?” he asked.

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