Page 5 of Fix Them Up
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You have time to research the housing market in Manchester but no time to call an estate agent?’
‘Well –’ I took a breath, wondering if she’d interrupt me again. But she didn’t. ‘The reason I did some research was because I did call the estate agent.’
My mum’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, fabulous. Why didn’t you say that?’
‘Well, I had an interesting conversation with a chap called John. And he said that because of the market right now, that I could get a lot more for it, if I did it up a bit. You know, a lick of paint. A new bathroom and kitchen, perhaps.’ I added the last sentence with such airy grace that I was worried I would fly away.
Mum’s face contorted into confusion. Then repulsion.
‘How would you renovate a house two hundred miles away? It would be hell. It’s the kind of thing you need to be there for, making sure everything runs smoothly.’
‘Yes. Exactly. I was thinking that perhaps, maybe, I could move up temporarily to oversee the renovation.’ I winced, waiting for the onslaught.
Mum gave a peel of laughter, like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She glanced over at me, and her face dropped.
‘You can’t be serious.’ She sighed like she was tired, and not because of the gradual incline of the slope we were walking up. ‘Katherine, don’t be ridiculous. Renovate the house, for what? A few more thousand pounds? I can’t imagine you’d get much more back –’
‘Well, John said it could be up to seventy thousand pounds more.’ My words came fast now, desperate to escape. ‘And that would get me a flat in a more central location. A bit more central. Not somewhere on the outskirts of Reading –’
‘And what is wrong with Reading? There are plenty of houses you could buy here, I’m sure.’
My mum was oblivious. She seemed to think that houses were growing on trees. We were living through a very real housing crisis. And I’d looked at houses in Reading; they were as expensive and competitive to buy as in London. Regardless of whether I picked a small flat in London or a little house in Reading, I needed as much cash as possible to buy.
‘It would take me two months –’
‘Two months?’ she squeaked. ‘And leave yourjob?’ She said it like my job was the be-all and end-all of my life. Like it was my reason for living. And it really wasn’t. I was grateful to have a job that allowed me to hang out with Willa every day and rent a room in London, but I’d always felt I was missing something.
Some greater calling.
‘Ah, I see,’ Mum said knowingly. ‘This is another one of your schemes. What was the last one? Calligraphy for weddings, wasn’t it?’
A lump in my throat formed. A shroud of shame hovered over me.
‘And the one before that – scented candle making. I think you sold a few of those.’
I’d sold ten before I lost interest and shut down my Etsy storefront.
‘And then, you were convinced childcare was your calling. And you wanted to become a nanny.’ Mum smiled like none of this was hurtful. Like she hadn’t pinpointed the biggest insecurity I had about myself – I had no follow-through. I was flighty. I’d never amount to anything.
‘But, Katherine,’ she continued, ‘this is a lot more than a hobby or what do young people call it – a side quest?’
‘A side hustle,’ I added quietly.
‘This would be spending thousands of pounds on a house. A house that might not make it back. It’s too big a gamble to take. Would you pay for all the work or do it yourself? Because if it’s the latter’ – she huffed – ‘well, I dread to think what could happen. You could hammer through a wall and fuse the whole house, for Christ’s sake, and then pay for a whole rewire. Would you have a job to return to?’
I didn’t mention that Willa had given me the time off. Unpaid. She would probably throw herself down the hill we were currently climbing. I stared at my boots with every stride, lost for words. Mum, however, was not lost for words.
‘You would hate Everly Heath. I doubt they have any of that Deliverloo you love so much. You would be bored, Katherine. Let me tell you, people are cliquey around there. They keep to themselves and look after their own. I wouldn’t count on your aunt and uncle helping out. You have to think, Katherine…’
The lecture continued for another two miles as my mum made her case against renovating Dad’s house. I didn’t mention any of my emotional attachment to the place. It was pointless. She wouldn’t understand. She would say the man had never played a significant role in my life.
Mum didn’t notice a few tears escaping down my cheeks as we finished the walk and climbed into her car to drive home.
I didn’t tell her I had already packed my suitcases. I didn’t tellher I was catching the train to Manchester in the morning. And I didn’t tell her that I was clinging to hold myself together long enough so I could be put back together again.
Chapter Three
I stepped across the threshold, and a distinctive old-lady smell hit my senses – damp with a hint of lavender. The smell provoked memories of visits to my granny: chocolate biscuits dunked in tea and little tuna sandwiches for lunch. I scanned the hallway of the 1930s semi-detached house.Myhouse. I pressed a shaking hand to the ache in my chest. Thinking of this house as mine and not Dad’s was still jarring.
