by Jules Wake
Getting that lot through the checkout was a logistical nightmare and I was very grateful that Hilda supervised Ava, leaving the far more helpful and sensible Poppy to assist me. Thank goodness Hilda had come too; I’d never have managed. And it would never have occurred to me to ask anyone to come along and help, which now seemed rather silly.
‘Looks like you’ve got your hands full here,’ drawled a languid voice and I glanced up to see Ash, with a cup of tea in each hand, standing in the doorway.
‘Let me guess, Hilda sent for you,’ I said with a sigh, gazing around at the pieces and screws that I’d organised in preparation for building Ava’s chest of drawers. Poppy and I had managed to construct two drawers so far, Ava’s bed was now complete, and we’d had the unmatched joy of ripping the plastic off the mattress and watching it unfurl and bounce into shape like an unruly caterpillar.
‘Thought you needed some help.’
I sighed. There was no point denying it. I still had a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and a bed to build. ‘Well, it’s very kind of you. I know how much you love DIY.’
As soon as the words popped out of my head, I wanted to haul them back in again. It was tacit acknowledgement that we’d met before, something we’d so far avoided.
He frowned for a second, as if trying to work it out and then with a flash of recognition he nodded.
‘This is Poppy, my extremely able assistant.’
‘Hi Poppy.’ He smiled and handed over the mug of tea to me. ‘Hilda says there’s a glass of squash for you and,’ he sniffed the air at the smells of baking wafting up from the kitchen, ‘she needs people to lick out the bowl apparently.’
Poppy jumped to her feet and glanced at me.
‘Go, go, go but if there’s cake, save me some.’
‘Cake!’ Her eyes widened and she rushed off, her feet clattering down the bare floorboards of the stairs.
Ash gave me a cool look. ‘You didn’t mention children.’
My smile was humourless, although I took more than a little satisfaction in wrong footing him. ‘That’s because they’re my nieces. I’m caring for them while my sister is away.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
I shrugged and took a reviving sip of tea, as much to avoid looking at him as anything else. Did he feel as awkward as I did? It felt odd, the two of us in this room, in my house, with an ocean of unsaid things between us.
‘How long have you lived here?’ he asked, staring around at the bare room.
‘Only six months. I had an apartment in Leeds before but it…’ I was about to stray into the personal and admit weakness, not something I wanted to do in front of him. My plan had always been to turn this house into an Instagram-worthy dream home but I’d just never had the time before. Not that two children’s bedrooms furnished with Ikea bits had been part of my grand plan. I’d intended them to be guest rooms, although now it struck me, who the hell had I thought would be coming to stay? I hadn’t had friends over in I don’t know how long.
He lifted one of his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. The half-finished sentence hung in the air and, now, not finishing it felt like a weakness.
I knelt on the floor, hiding my face behind a curtain of hair and gathered the pieces to make up drawer number three. ‘My flat never really felt like home.’ More of a stepping stone, a handy bolt-hole for the time between work. The move to this house was supposed to have been the next part of my life. The part where things happened, where I became a partner, and threw dinner parties for other successful people and they stayed over, where my parents came for lunch and cooed over how lovely I’d made everything and my dad congratulated me on what a good investment I’d made, but it had just been more of the same, only in slightly nicer surroundings.
‘And this does?’ he looked at the plain walls and the ceiling with its unadorned central light bulb.
I glowered at him and crawled across the floor to one of the big blue bags and began to rummage through it.
‘Here, make yourself useful.’ I tossed the pink lamp shade at him, aiming for his head.
Of course, he caught it easily, stretching up and plucking it out of the air, his T-shirt coming loose from his waistband. The quick glimpse of golden skin and dark hairs heading downwards made my mouth go dry and my stomach muscles tighten.
He raised that cocky bloody eyebrow again, a smile on his lips as if he knew exactly what my pathetic, hard-done-by libido was feeling. It irritated the hell out of me.
‘And when you’ve done that, you can help build this.’ I indicated the neat pile of wooden pieces laid out in readiness.
‘Very organised. I thought you’d be that type. I bet you’ve read the instructions too.’
‘Of course.’ God, I sound prim and buttoned up. But around him it was the best way to be. I’d played sexy siren once and where had that got me? A big fat nowhere.
‘Well then, we should have this done in no time at all.’
We worked surprisingly well as team, perhaps because both of us were concentrating hard on not touching each other and not saying anything the least bit personal; even my long-married parents bickered like crazy over a DIY project. Ash didn’t seem to need the instructions, or if he did, it only took one brief perusal and he was able to work out with unerring ease exactly what should go where. It reminded me of his mechanical engineering degree.
The chest of drawers was coming together nicely until I got one of the drawers stuck on a runner and no matter how I tried I just couldn’t quite get the angle right.
‘Need a hand?’
Without thinking I looked up and the sight of those long-fingered, artistic hands caused a sudden flashback. I immediately blushed. His eyes regarded me steadily and for a moment I stared back. I saw his mouth tighten and I turned away, too embarrassed by his rejection to acknowledge that night and what had happened between us.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I said matter-of-factly.
‘No, it’s not. Look the screw is sticking out, impinging on the drawer.’ He started forward with a screwdriver.
I glared at him and snatched up my own screwdriver. ‘It’s fine, I can do it.’
His face softened. ‘You don’t like asking for help, do you?’
‘Do you want to make a start on the next set of drawers?’ I said, deliberately ignoring him. I didn’t need his help. Although it had speeded things up considerably.
By the time Hilda called up the stairs, inviting us down for a break and homemade scones, we’d finished the chest of drawers and had started on Poppy’s bed in the other room.
‘Look, look, Auntie Claire. Look what we made.’ Ava was dancing around the kitchen, her hair its usual tangled mess and her rumpled clothes dusted in white, grinning with delight as she pointed to the big, fat golden scones piled on a plate in the middle of the table.
‘They look delicious.’ I turned to Hilda. ‘I’m very impressed. And you made a cake.’
I turned to the dark chocolate sponge cooling on a rack on the side.
‘It wasn’t easy. You’re worse than Mother Hubbard and you need a tablecloth and some nice napkins. I’m going to take you to Dunelm Mill on Monday.’
‘Yes, Hilda.’ I gave her a penitent smile. Bless her, she had done her best with my bare cupboards. The table was laid with kitchen-towel serviettes and dinner plates because I didn’t have such a thing as tea plates. I rarely entertained and when I did it was usually a shared takeaway with friends, most of whom, I reflected, were people I worked with. Karen, the HR Director at work, was possibly the closest thing I had to a friend. There weren’t many women at my level at work and the women I met at networking events were usually as busy as I was. The occasional coffee rarely developed into any kind of friendship. Mary, Ellie and Jenna had been my housemates at uni; we’d had a blast living together in third year but once we’d started work, it had changed, especially as I’d moved north. Seeing them wasted – as I’d thought of it then – a whole weekend when I had so much to do at work. To be fair,
Jenna had hung on the longest, even coming to see me a couple of times in Leeds, but when I couldn’t make her wedding, she’d given up too. I didn’t really blame her. Looking back, I realised I’d been a pretty crap friend. More than crap. How would I feel if someone said their job was more important than me? I felt a touch of shame. Poor Jenna, she definitely deserved better. I ought to send her a card, ask how she was doing.
‘You can have the king’s chair,’ Ava said to Ash, pointing to my desk chair, which had been dragged from my little office room because I only had four chairs.
‘Thank you.’ Amusement danced on his face.
‘Because you’ve got long hair and kings have long hair,’ observed Ava, paying his dark curls close attention. ‘You should get Auntie Claire to do plaits for you. She’s getting quite good now.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind, next time I need some plaits.’ Ash’s grave nod towards the little girl, along with the quick smile he shot me warmed something inside me. Of course he was good with kids too. Just crap at texting, it seemed.
‘Now, tea or coffee? I’d recommend tea because Claire only has instant rubbish.’
‘I never have time to make proper coffee,’ I protested.
‘Hmph,’ snorted Hilda. ‘But at least she does have Yorkshire Tea. Even if I can’t find hide nor hair of a teapot.’
‘I’ll have tea.’ Ash wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his smirk. I don’t know what he found so funny. How come he was suddenly so available when previously he’d managed to disappear from my life with magician-like ease?
The scones, when we all sat down, were delicious and with all the melted butter dripping down our fingers, additional pieces of kitchen towel were required.
‘Yummy.’ Ava beamed at Hilda.
‘You’ll have to give Auntie Claire the recipe,’ said Poppy. ‘They’re really good.’
‘Well they’re so easy, a grown-up girl like you can make them by yourself. You practically made these and you have a lovely light touch. I’ll give you the recipe, Poppy.’ Hilda’s eyes twinkled at Poppy, who beamed back, straightening with pride.
‘I can make them for Mummy. And teach her how. She’s not… she doesn’t like cooking.’
‘I’m growed up too,’ said Ava, waving a crumbling scone about and scattering crumbs everywhere.
‘You are but you mustn’t touch the oven without Mummy or Claire being with you. Next time I shall make you some homemade sausage rolls with my special flaky pastry.’
Next time. I hid my wince. Delicious as the scones were and as tantalising as the cake smelled, a washing-up fairy-godmother would have been quite welcome too. A cooking whirlwind had whipped through the kitchen leaving a sink full of dirty bowls, pools of congealing egg, and a fine dusting of flour all over the floor. I thought I was doing quite well adapting to the children’s mess, but having Hilda about was really stretching my neat-freak tendencies thin.
I looked around. Everyone was happy – even Ash had a contemplative smile on his face as he leaned out of range of Ava’s crumb storm. With the smell of cake and scones and a circle of people at my table, my kitchen felt positively cosy, and for some stupid unfathomable reason tears pricked at my eyes. It felt like a home. Hilda caught my eye with a warm, knowing smile before turning to answer another one of Ava’s busy, random questions. I could get used to having a house full of people. I liked the warm glow it left around my heart. Today I’d been so busy that all those lurking, unwelcome feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, and failure had been firmly displaced.
I checked my watch. It was five o’clock. Still enough time to make the girls’ bedrooms their own. With sudden determination, I stood up. Those rooms would be ready by bedtime. It was time this house was turned into a home.
‘Are you guys okay for time?’ I asked Hilda and Ash.
Ash didn’t respond, just shrugged his shoulders, and in that second I knew as well as he did that he had nothing better to do with his Saturday night.
‘I’ve got all the time in the world for these two cuties,’ announced Hilda, putting an arm each around Poppy and Ava. She was perfect grandmother-material and I wondered if she had any grandchildren of her own; she’d only ever mentioned her son and that was in passing.
‘Okay, how about we do another couple of hours and then as a thank you for your help, I’ll order in takeaway pizza for dinner?’ There were a couple of flyers on top of the fridge that had come through the letterbox earlier in the week which I’d kept, never thinking I’d actually get around to using them.
‘Yes,’ said Ava with predictable enthusiasm. ‘I love pizza.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had takeaway pizza.’ Hilda clapped her hands together. ‘A new adventure for me.’
‘I’ll need to get back for the dog unless you wouldn’t mind me bringing him here. Poor bugger would enjoy the change of company.’
‘Dog!’ Poppy’s ears pricked up.
I laughed. ‘Remember the dog from the park, and I told you—’
‘Hairy carpet dog?’ Poppy’s mouth twitched. Oh, she remembered all right. I’d told her that Hilda had bullied a man in the park into keeping him. She nodded and her eyes shone with pleasure when I said to Ash, ‘Of course you can bring Bill.’
‘Bill? That’s what he’s called?’ Poppy tilted her head to one side, her eyes narrowing with sharp assessment. ‘Why did you call him that?’
Ash lifted his shoulders. ‘He seemed like a Bill to me. No nonsense. Ordinary, good bloke. He seemed like a bloke-ish sort of dog. Although I completely agree with you, he does resemble a hairy carpet, but it would be a bit of a mouthful, I think.’
Poppy bestowed one of her rare smiles on him. ‘Yes. He is bloke-ish. Bill. That’s just right for him.’
‘I thought so.’ Ash nodded at her and he shared one of his rare smiles with her. I had to turn away; he was a lot kinder than I would ever have imagined.
‘Well, that’s all sorted,’ I said briskly. ‘You go and collect the dog when we’ve ordered the pizzas.’ I put the flyers on the table. ‘Hilda, why don’t you, Poppy, and Ava choose what you fancy. Ash, do you have any preferences?’
‘As long as there’s no tuna or pineapple on mine, I’m good.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘They just aren’t pizza.’
‘We’re agreed on something?’ Ash raised that flaming eyebrow again.
‘It would appear so.’ I shot him a cool smile and then turned to Team Hilda. ‘If you guys can decide on pizzas then, if you don’t mind, Hilda, if you could be in charge of making up beds, putting on duvet covers and titivating, that would be great.’
‘I’m a marvellous titivater,’ said Hilda. ‘When we had the antiques business I once helped Dame Judi buy a couple of Tiffany lamps for her house in London. And, of course, dear Diana was always asking for our best pieces for Kensington Palace, although you’d have thought the place would be chock-full of fabulous things already. Now girls, let’s go and work some magic.’
She flounced ahead of me. In today’s tracksuit of orange with two narrow stripes down each leg, she looked like a cross between a hockey mistress and a tangerine. Scooping up Poppy and Ava with her, she trotted up the stairs, leaving Ash and me staring bemusedly after her.
There were a lot of giggles and bumps coming from the room next door and every now and then Poppy would appear to rummage in the blue bags to retrieve another item. When I stopped for a quick loo break, the blue towels had been neatly arranged on the rail in the bathroom, the new toothbrush holder had replaced the old pint glass I’d used before and the handwash had been transferred into the pretty dark blue glass dispenser I’d picked up on a sudden whim.
‘That’s it,’ said Ash, patting the top of the final chest of drawers, an hour and a half and two wardrobes later. Practice had made us much quicker. ‘Where do you want it?’
‘Next to the bed for the time being. I can put her bedside lamp on it. I’ll get some more furniture in here later, but this was all I could carr
y today and even that was a performance.’
‘Are we done?’
‘On furniture building yes. I never want to see another Allen key again.’
‘Me neither, although it’s pretty good in here. I’ll go and get Bill.’
‘Have you finished?’ Ava ran into the room, skipping through the abandoned cardboard, plastic, and polystyrene. I’d heard the three of them go downstairs a while ago, although Hilda had slipped back up to make up Poppy’s bed. They’d been in charge of pizza ordering and I was hoping that Hilda had kept a rein on things. If left to her own devices, Ava would have ordered one of everything on the menu.
‘Come see my room. Come see.’
Ash gathered up the rubbish and went downstairs while I went into the room and immediately began to smile. ‘Well doesn’t this look fabulous.’ It was a proper little girl’s room.
‘Fab-u-lous,’ said Ava, running over to switch on the string of fairy lights interwoven in and around the wooden struts of her headboard. ‘And see,’ she turned the little bedside light off and on a couple of times.
I slid open a drawer, amazed to see that Hilda had done sterling work and had transferred Ava’s clothes – although I couldn’t imagine they’d stay this neat and tidy for very long.
‘And all my babies like the new bed. Hilda says they like staying at the bottom better; they feel more settled because they can’t fall off.’ I’d thank Hilda for that later, I thought as I spotted Ava’s soft toys had been retrieved and had been arranged at the end of the bed. That would make bedtimes a lot more manageable.
