Renovation, Renovation, Renovation

by Nell Dixon

  “Huh? I need a coffee.” He started opening and closing cupboard doors on his side of the kitchen looking for caffeine.

  “Steve!” I slapped my hand down on the counter top to get his attention.

  He winced at the sound and turned his head to look at me.

  “I thought I had told you. You knew it had to come out. The plumber’s merchants called to say they need to deliver the bath today so I had to get it done. I left you the toilet.” He resumed his futile search of the cabinets.

  “How much did you have to drink last night?”

  “Dunno, have you got any coffee? And some aspirin?” He closed the last cabinet door and leaned his forehead against it with his eyes closed.

  I passed him the coffee jar and hunted some headache tablets out of my handbag. It wasn’t like Steve to drink to excess. When he’d left the music industry behind part of his reasons for quitting had been a concern over the levels of alcohol he’d been consuming. “I haven’t seen you looking this rough for ages.”

  “Cheers, babe.” He shovelled coffee into a mug and added a generous helping of sugar.

  “What bought this on?” I folded my arms and leaned back against the worktop watching as he choked down two painkillers.

  “Jamie came round. We were reminiscing about the band and we had a few beers and some Jack Daniels.” He poured some water from the kettle into his mug and stirred the caffeine and sugar mix.

  This didn’t sound good. If we were going to get the cottage finished and on the market we could do without Steve’s former band mates turning up with bottles of Jack.

  “What time are the bathroom fittings arriving?” Looking at the state of Steve I hoped it wasn’t early.

  “Just after nine.” He added cold water from the tap to his coffee and took a tentative sip.

  “How are you going to manage?” Not only did he appear to have the hangover from hell but the new bath was a roll top cast iron job that probably wouldn’t fit up the narrow cottage stairs. We’d already discussed the possibility of removing the bathroom window to get it in that way. Since the bathroom was in the extension the windows were larger in there and Steve had claimed it would be relatively straightforward to get access that way.

  “Jamie’s going to give me a hand with the bath.” A trace of colour reappeared in Steve’s face.

  “Is he coming back?” If he was in the same state as Steve this morning he wouldn’t be that much help.

  “He stayed over.” Steve waved his hand towards the back door.

  As if on cue a stranger ambled in, looking as rough as Steve. His blond hair was cut in a fashionably spiky style that had been flattened on one side where he must have fallen asleep. His designer jeans were open at the waist and he was topless displaying a tanned torso that looked as if he spent a lot of time working out and using sunbeds.

  “Jamie, you remember Kate, Kate, Jamie.”

  Jamie raised a hand in acknowledgement before taking Steve’s mug and swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “Nice to meet you again.”

  I looked at Steve. “I have to go to work. Will you be okay today?” I wondered if I should call Jo and see if I could take the day off. Then again, if Nas found out I had two Danger Line members at my house she’d be round quicker than you could say sick note. The last thing I needed was her hanging around getting in the way while she drooled over Jamie and Steve.

  Steve managed a brief nod of his head.

  “I don’t know what time I’ll be back tonight. I’m doing some research at the library after work.” There seemed little point in mentioning my supper date with Mike. Perhaps I should postpone my date so I could keep tabs on Jamie and Steve.

  “Okay, see you later. Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll be fine” He pulled a fresh mug from the cupboard for Jamie.

  “And don’t use all my coffee.” I warned, and left them to it still wondering if I was doing the right thing by going into work.

  * * *

  I texted Steve during my lunchbreak to see how they were getting on. I’d decided if things weren’t going well then I’d cancel supper with Mike

  ‘bath in house, window not out – slight technical hitch but ok now.’

  I took that to mean the bath might be indoors but not actually in the bathroom.

  At least it didn’t sound too bad. If the man from the council found we intended to mess with the bathroom window to get it installed without permission we could end up with a heap of trouble. I took the technical hitch to mean that Steve had encountered Mr Poole and his love of regulations once more.

  Mike called me to let me know he’d be at the library when I finished work. He was good friends with the librarians and had special permission to use the records section after it had closed to the general public.

  On a mad impulse I bought a pretty new top to change into before I met him. I nipped into the loo and changed, stuffing my hideous bank uniform into a carrier.

  Nasreen spotted me as I touched up my lip gloss and fluffed up my hair in front of the staffroom mirror.

  “Going somewhere special?” she asked, her attention fixed on my expensive impulse purchase.

  “I’m meeting a friend for some research and dinner.” I wondered if the neckline on my new top might be a bit low. If I moved too much you could see the pale blue lace on the top of my bra peeking over the top. I hadn’t anticipated it would be quite so clingy either.

  Nasreen watched me adjusting my bust. “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

  I squirted an extra shot of Vera Wang’s Princess down my cleavage. “I hope so.”

  Actually, I wasn’t so sure I did want Mike to appreciate my new look. He might get the wrong idea about how I saw our relationship developing. Then again, maybe this was what was needed if I wanted to get some va-va-voom into my life again.

  I made my way to the library still worrying if I was doing the right thing by getting myself gussied-up and meeting Mike. He wasn’t in the library foyer. I walked past the children’s section and the reading room pausing only to check that my bra wasn’t showing again as I pushed open the swing door.

  Mike’s attention was firmly fixed on the screen in front of him as I entered the archive and records room. He gave me a quick glance as I slid into the vacant seat next to him before returning his gaze back to the screen.

  “Hi, I see you started without me.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. I tried not to feel irritated that he didn’t appear to have noticed the efforts I’d made with my appearance. Steve would have definitely noticed my cleavage display. Well, at least he would have once, before everything had gone wrong between us.

  “I had an idea when I was on my way here to meet you and I thought I’d follow it up.”

  Looking at his screen I could see he was searching through the archive of the local newspapers.

  “Hah! I was right.” He pressed something to zoom in on the screen, enlarging the print so I could see.

  “It’s the bill of sale for Walnut Cottage, as it was then. The year Francis and Isabella bought it.” There was a note of triumph in his voice.

  I peered more closely at the screen. “A comfortably appointed former agricultural labourer’s cottage with vacant possession, complete with three acres,” I read the first bit aloud and then continued reading to myself trying to see what Mike was so excited about. “Sale by direction of Messrs Holden and Small on behalf of the late Mr B Shawcross esq.”

  “The late Mr B Shawcross must have been the owner. We need to dig into the census now to see if he actually lived in the cottage or if he was the landlord.” Mike beamed at me, excitement lighting up his dazzling blue eyes.

  “Wow.” I wondered if there had been a Mrs Shawcross and if she could be the woman I thought I’d seen at the window.

  Mike printed a copy of the newspaper page with the advertisement before clicking out of that section of the archive and logging onto the records containing the census data and the parish records.

&nbs
p; He was clearly fired up with enthusiasm for the search. Even so, I couldn’t help feeling a mite irked that he seemed to find the census records from the eighteen-hundreds more interesting than my company. I shuffled my chair nearer to his and leaned my elbows on the table so he could get a better view of my new top and a waft of my perfume.

  “Got him!” Mike enlarged the writing on the screen so I could see.

  Sure enough, a Mr Benjamin Shawcross was listed as being the sole resident of Walnut Cottage. Mike made cryptic notes on a pad next to the keyboard.

  “He lived alone?” I was disappointed. I’d been sure that the mysterious presence in the cottage was female. The sobs and the face at the window had to be the same person.

  “We can follow him further back but it’ll take me a little while.” Mike finally tore his attention from the screen to look at me. “I’ll check it out for you over the next few days. We’d better go. I don’t want to wear out my welcome with the library staff.”

  I collected my bag and we walked over to the swing door. I stepped through as he thoughtfully held it open for me and decided my mother would approve of his good manners.

  “It’s early yet and it’s a nice evening, shall we go for a stroll down by the river before dinner?” he suggested.

  “That would be nice.”

  He fell into step beside me as we made our way through the back streets of the town to the small park which bordered the river on this side of town. Lots of other couples seemed to have had the same idea and there were plenty of people feeding bread to the white swans gathered at the waters edge.

  Families were picnicking on tartan-checked blankets spread out on the grass, small children chased balls and couples passed us by wheeling toddlers in buggies or with dogs on leads.

  “It’s a beautiful evening.” I paused at the edge of the path to look out across the river where the local rowing club were practising their skills.

  “Yes, it’s nice to see you alone.” Mike blushed a little. “You always seem to have someone with you.”

  “I suppose I do.” Poor Mike, it was true that Louise had usually been with me, then my mum and Chuck and even my ex boyfriend. That was quite a lot to handle. A slight breeze came off the water and I shivered.

  “You’re getting cold, let’s walk on.” Mike draped his arm loosely around my waist and we continued to stroll along the gravel pathway.

  It felt strange to be so intimate with a man who wasn’t Steve. Heat from his body, so close to mine warmed me, and overhead in the trees the birds chirped louder.

  It was pleasant but alien all at the same time.

  We carried on along the walk to the edge of the park where it met the main road bridge across the river.

  “You look very nice tonight, Kate.” Mike halted at the park gate and lowered his lips to mine.

  I tried to respond enthusiastically but although kissing Mike was nice he didn’t

  "rock my socks", as Lou would say. He appeared to be quite satisfied however when we broke apart.

  “Let’s go on to the restaurant, I could use a drink and something to eat now.”

  He took hold of my hand once more as we walked along the narrow pavements to the restaurant.

  La Viola, was in one of the older buildings on the same side of the river as Myrtle Cottage and the building was probably from a similar date. We were shown to a window table which offered a view across the river through the tiny leaded glass panes.

  Each pink-clothed table was lit by a tall pink taper candle. Fresh white carnations and green frond ferns were arranged in white ceramic posy bowls as centrepieces. The romantic setting was helped along by the soft strains of the classical music playing discreetly in the background.

  “Have you been here before?” Mike studied the menu.

  “No, it seems very nice though.” It wasn’t the kind of place Steve would ever have taken me. His idea of an Italian restaurant was Pizza Hut. Perhaps this was what grown-up dating was like these days.

  Mike looked suitably pleased by my response. I studied my menu and tried to relax and enjoy the experience. I peeked covertly at my dining companion over the top of my menu. Mike was good-looking, courteous, an adequate kisser, he’d bought me out to a nice place and yet I still wasn’t feeling it.

  He glanced up and caught my gaze. “Hard to choose, isn’t it?”

  He meant the menu but for a brief moment he could have been talking about my love life. Except of course I’d already made that choice, and so had Steve. Now I was stuck with it.

  Steve had already moved on and now I had to do the same. If not with Mike then maybe there was someone else out there for me. The idea should have been uplifting, but instead I felt lonelier than I’d ever felt before in my entire life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mike appeared more attractive with each glass of Chianti I consumed. After my third glass I decided I definitely would have to take a taxi home and collect my car after work tomorrow. There was no way that I could drive.

  The food was delicious and Mike was a pleasant and undemanding dinner date. He chatted about scholarly things and I nodded in all the right places so we were both happy. By the time the waiter bought the bill and a liqueur with my coffee I had decidedly mellowed towards him.

  The cooler evening air hit my face as we left the restaurant and roused me from my fuzziness. Mike and I exchanged wine flavoured kisses on the pavement but to my dismay even in my tipsy state there was still no zing.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening.” I had enough presence of mind to flag down a passing taxi before Mike could suggest more coffee back at his house.

  I thought he looked disappointed as I scrambled into the back of the cab, leaving him at the kerb. “I’m sorry I have to run out on you but I’m at work tomorrow and I’ll have to get up earlier to get the bus.”

  It wasn’t a lie. I would have to leave the house half an hour before my usual time, and, since my bank uniform was in a carrier bag in my car boot, I’d have to press my other one which was buried deep in the ironing pile.

  “I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” Mike promised.

  I waved goodbye through the cab window and settled into my seat for the short ride back to Myrtle Cottage. The taxi dropped me off and I decided in my slightly merry condition to see if Steve had kept his promise about easing the front door. I didn’t think my balance was good enough for me to negotiate my way in the dark round the back and along the garden path.

  The cottage was in darkness as I made my way along the short path to the oak front door. The leaves on the walnut tree rustled and sighed with the faint night-time breeze. I fumbled my key out from my bag and leant out from under the honeysuckle-laden canopy that covered the door so I could see what I was doing in the moonlight.

  The air was sultry and heavy with the scent of the plants. I finally found the right key and inserted it into the lock.

  The door creaked open without needing a shove. I reached into the hall to snap on the light. It pinged on for a brief second, illuminating the bare floorboards and dirty cream walls of the hallway. Then the bulb fused and plunged me back into darkness.

  * * *

  There have been prowlers around the house. The dogs are barking and Richard has gone out armed with a lantern and a big stick. Dorcas, Mother and I are waiting for his return. There have been deserters and camp followers in the countryside ever since the battle. I pray Joshua is safe and that Father returns soon.

  * * *

  “Damn.” I blinked to try and regain my focus in the darkness before feeling my way cautiously along the hall towards the kitchen. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and I prayed nothing hairy would scuttle over my sandal-clad feet.

  Reaching the door to the kitchen I fumbled for the old-fashioned iron latch.

  Once I’d found the torch from the kitchen drawer I’d be able to fix the fuse in the cupboard under the stairs. I pushed open the door to the kitchen to discover that it would only open part of the way
, bumping against some kind of obstacle. I squeezed through the narrow gap into the moonlit room.

  The area that had previously been occupied by my ancient pine kitchen table was now taken up by the new, and very expensive, cast iron claw footed bath which should have been in the upstairs bathroom. My table and the chairs had been pushed to one side leaving a narrow walkway through to the fridge, sink and kettle.

  Any remnants of my nice wine-induced fuzzy-headedness disappeared as I fumbled my way around the piles of furniture to the cabinet drawer in search of the torch.

  “Where the hell has it gone?” I rummaged in the drawer groping for the smooth steel barrel of the torch amongst an unravelled ball of string, miscellaneous nails and screwdrivers. I finally found it and clicked it on, shining it around the room to figure out what had happened.

  The kitchen was in a worse state than I’d imagined. My chairs were piled in a haphazard heap in front of the Aga and the roll top bath took up a huge amount of the available floor space.

  The unexpected rumble of a key in the back door made my heart leap into my throat. I span around, my pulse racing.

  “Kate, is that you?” Steve stood in the doorway, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the dazzling beam of my torch. “What the hell are you doing? Where’s your car?”

  Taken by surprise I tripped over one of the bath’s clawed lion paw feet. Before I could hit the floor Steve had stepped forward to catch me.

  “Have you been drinking?” His face was inches away from mine and his eyes gleamed with laughter in the moonlight.

  I never got drunk. Two glasses of wine was usually my limit and I rarely drank that much. I don’t think in all the time Steve has known me he’s ever seen me get more than a little merry. Yet I was pretty sure that tonight I’d drunk most of the bottle of Chianti and then I’d had a liqueur with my coffee. By my standards I was plastered.

  “I may have had a few glasses of wine with dinner.” I struggled to sound dignified and to stand back upright.