Page 18 of Fix Them Up
He exhaled, delivering the final blow.
‘No.’
Chapter Seven
‘Liam!’ Lydia smacked him on the shoulder, ‘Come on!’
My eyes stung, and my head lowered, hanging off my shoulders in defeat. Why was I even doing this? Why didn’t I sell as my mum had suggested? Did I care all that much about my dad’s legacy anyway? He’d been AWOL for most of my life, for fuck’s sake.
It’s because of the funeral.
I felt so much shame and anger at myself for fucking up at my dad’s funeral that renovating the house felt like a path to some sort of redemption.
Lydia continued with her campaign to convince Liam, but I ignored it. I needed to come up with a new plan. I could sell it. Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I’d sell and move on. If I went home tomorrow, Mum wouldn’t need to know I’d been gone. I’ll get the train back and forget any of this happened.
This could all be some strange, vivid dream.
‘What renovation?’ Jack asked, pulling me from my mind.
‘It’s Kat’s house,’ Lydia explained. ‘She was… left it recently and wants to renovate it.’
I was grateful she left out the dead dad details.
Lydia continued, ‘It’s a 1930s semi. It’s a fixer-upper, but it has tons of potential. But Kat has a tight turnaround to renovate it before she moves back to London. She wants to buy there.’
I coughed, my voice croaky. ‘The market is a nightmare, so I need as much cash as possible.’
‘How tight a turnaround?’ Jack scratched his jaw.
‘Two months.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s how long I’ve been given off work. I might be able to stretch it a bit, but not much more.’
Liam huffed a laugh. ‘Two months.’
Lydia frowned now. ‘Is that not possible? There isn’t any major structural work to do.’
‘I’ve seen her house. It needs gutting.’
‘I know. This is my last resort.’ A scowl overtook my features. ‘You are my last resort.’
‘Charming.’ Liam looked at me, then frowned, like my foul mood disappointed him. ‘There isn’t anything I can do. It should have been booked months ago. In fact, if you could ask all of your lot to schedule in your gentrifying in good time, that would be great.’
He stared straight ahead and took a large gulp of his drink.
‘Well, unfortunately, I couldn’t conveniently schedule my dad dying,’ I smiled sardonically. ‘And who exactly is “my lot”?’
Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘He means Londoners. Southerners. He’s bitter because we’ve had a load buy up here recently.’
‘They’ve priced themselves out of London, so they’ve decided to price us out of houses here instead,’ Liam rumbled.
‘I don’t know what’s up your bum,’ Lydia said. ‘They all want building work.’
‘And they want a personal trainer and their green juices,’ Liam said pointedly.
‘I know. Unlike some, I’m not complaining. We doubled members at the gym this month.’ Lydia shoved Liam, causing him to almost spill his drink. ‘Stop being such a downer. I know Kevin manages to squeeze people in all the time.’
Liam’s eyes flared. ‘Yes, and now his knees are fucked; he doesn’tknow the meaning of “retirement”, and he hasn’t had a holiday in about fifty years.’
‘Kevin is fine,’ Lydia insisted.
