by Hazel Hayes
When Theo returned from seeing his gran the next evening, he was surprisingly upbeat. He talked to me while I got dinner ready, telling me all about Augusta’s nice private room in the nursing home, and the lovely staff there, and how well she was being looked after. I was relieved to hear it had all worked out for the best. And then he announced that he wanted us to move into her empty house.
‘Oh?’ I said, my hand freezing in midair as I lifted a spoonful of beans from pot to plate.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘My mum says we can move in straight away.’
I had only been to his grandmother’s house once, for her ninetieth birthday party. It was a massive detached house with four bedrooms and an enormous garden, and it was probably worth a small fortune, but it was also absolutely filthy and falling apart; the place hadn’t seen so much as a lick of paint in decades. It would take a lot of time and money to clear it out and make it liveable again, and even then, it would still be just around the corner from Jocelyn’s house, which was really my main concern.
‘I thought you were happy here,’ I said.
‘I am,’ said Theo, ‘but we’d only be paying half the rent we pay here.’
‘To your mother?’ I asked.
‘Yes, of course.’
Even with my back to Theo I could tell he was perturbed; he’d come home excited to tell me about this and he expected me to be excited too.
‘So she’d be our landlord?’
‘I suppose so, yeah,’ he said.
I handed him his dinner and sat to the table to eat mine, moving slowly to buy myself time while I decided how to navigate this conversation; everything to do with his mother was a fucking minefield but this time there were finances and heightened emotions involved too.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ I asked.
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Well, your mother is …’ I began, then, realising I couldn’t call her a lunatic to his face, I stopped and rephrased. ‘I’m just not sure she’s fully thought through all the pressures of being a landlord.’
‘She’s not an idiot,’ he shot back.
‘Of course not. It’s just, she’d be responsible for sorting the house out and fixing anything that breaks, and it might be difficult to ask for those things from your own mother. It could get complicated, is all I’m saying.’
‘My gran lived there just fine.’
‘Well actually, she complained about the cold a lot,’ I said, ‘and she didn’t really need the things we need. There’s no shower. There’s no wifi. There’s no cable. Plus it’s still full of her things. And everyone else’s.’
When Jocelyn moved out almost thirty years ago, she left her room in Augusta’s house exactly as it was; clothes still in the wardrobe, sheets still on the bed. Her siblings had done the same, and after Theo’s grandfather died, nobody went through his things or threw any of them away. Now that his gran had moved out, I didn’t believe Jocelyn would deal with it all – she couldn’t even take care of her own house, in which there was an entire bedroom full of old clothes and toys and stacks of dusty, yellow newspapers. The room, like her behaviour, was another very obvious problem that we all pretended not to see.
‘You’re so pessimistic,’ he said.
‘No, I’m realistic.’
‘Well, realistically, we can’t keep pissing money away on rent. We’ve got to start saving if we want to buy somewhere.’
‘You want to buy somewhere?’ I asked. In hindsight, this was the moment I got derailed.
‘Eventually, yeah.’
‘With me?’
‘Yes, of course with you.’
‘And then what?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Then what happens?’
‘Well,’ said Theo, ‘I kind of figured we’d spend our whole lives together.’
‘Oh.’
I suppose in every relationship an assumption is made at some point that you’re in it for the long haul. I’m not sure at what point Theo and I made this assumption, but suddenly it was clear that it had been made.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Okay then.’
I agreed to go see the house. That was all I agreed to. But somehow one viewing turned into three viewings and the next thing I knew we were deciding where Theo’s desk would go. His enthusiasm was infectious and he painted such a pretty picture of the life we’d have there that I couldn’t help but be excited for it too – the spare room for guests to stay over, the dinner parties we’d throw for our friends, the summer afternoons we’d spend lounging in the garden. There was still the delicate matter of Jocelyn, of course, but Theo assured me he would handle it and handle it he did; on our fourth and final viewing, Jocelyn joined us on a tour of the house while Theo asserted our list of demands. Jocelyn hemmed and hawed over one or two things but ultimately agreed to give us everything we’d asked for – including wifi and an electric shower – and while she couldn’t clear out the whole house, she said she would have everything boxed up and stored in two of the bedrooms out of our way. She seemed uncharacteristically capable and cooperative – she even hugged me on the way out – and once again I found myself questioning my own sanity; had she really been that bad before, or had I been oversensitive?
On the train home, Theo told me he that he’d had a quick word with her about respecting our privacy.
‘How did that go?’ I asked.
‘She got a little bit upset,’ he said. ‘But I explained that she was welcome to come and visit; she just can’t pop round anytime she likes. And she can’t let herself in without notice.’
‘And?’
‘And she was totally fine with it. All of it. She says she’s going to ring the plumber about the shower today. And she’ll sort out the wifi tomorrow.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Maybe I underestimated her.’
‘I think you two just got off on the wrong foot,’ said Theo, acknowledging for the first time that there had ever been a problem. ‘It’s nice to see you getting along now.’
It was nice, actually. It felt like the last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place. The train rattled along for a little while before Theo spoke again.
‘Look, I know I’m asking a lot,’ he blurted. ‘You already moved country for me and you just got settled and now I’m making you move again. And I know this isn’t exactly your dream home. And, yeah, I know my mother can be difficult. But just give it eighteen months. Eighteen months of saving and we can afford a deposit on our own place, and maybe you can quit your job and write. I know that’s what you want to do. And I want to help you do it.’
He was talking so fast I could barely take it all in.
‘Theo, it’s okay,’ I said, placing a hand on his leg. He took my hand in his and looked me in the eye with such sincerity that I thought for a second he might be about to make a joke.
‘But I want you to know how much I love and appreciate you,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘I love you so fucking much that … it’s not very nice sometimes. It’s horrible, actually. I think about losing you and it’s like someone’s standing on my chest. You could break me. If you wanted to. You could absolutely fucking break me.’
It was as if he had only now, in this moment, come to this realisation.
‘Sometimes,’ I said softly, brushing his hair back away from his eyes, ‘I love you so much that I want to bash in your skull with a blunt instrument.’
He nodded.
‘Same.’
We both sat back in our seats and didn’t speak for a minute while the train chugged noisily through a tunnel. When we emerged on the other side, daylight flooded the carriage and I turned to look at Theo.
‘Eighteen months,’ I said, extending my hand.
‘Eighteen months,’ he said, shaking it.
When moving day came, I stood in the doorway of our empty flat and sobbed; I had never wanted to stay in a place I was forced to move out of before and it felt strange and unfinished, like bre
aking up with someone you’re still in love with.
Theo gave me as much time as he could but there was a man named Gregor waiting outside with a van full of our stuff and he was charging us by the hour. Before we shut the door for the last time, Theo pulled me into him, letting my body rest against his, and he promised me that everything would be fine. He held my hand the whole way to his gran’s house, the pair of us squished into the front seat next to Gregor, and he even made all the necessary small talk on my behalf, knowing that I wasn’t in the mood.
Jocelyn was waiting for us when we arrived. She helped Gregor reverse into the drive, then immediately started helping him to unload boxes from the back of the van. From the sounds of it, she’d been working tirelessly to get the house ready for us and I couldn’t wait to see it. She handed us the keys she’d had cut for us both and Theo let us into our new home.
When we stepped inside I looked around and felt my stomach turn; the house was almost exactly as we left it a month ago. It was tidier, the kitchen had been cleaned and the whole place had been hoovered, but none of the family’s belongings had been moved. Everywhere I looked I saw the detritus of someone else’s life, filling every cupboard and drawer, and covering every single surface. The place was completely cluttered with old furniture, half of which was riddled with woodworm, and while the door frames and skirting boards had been painted, whatever cowboys Jocelyn hired to do the job hadn’t sanded down the old, flaking paintwork – they’d just painted over it. They also hadn’t bothered to paint behind any of the furniture, so if you moved anything you’d find a filthy patch of skirting board behind it.
Jocelyn was prattling on about the boiler but I couldn’t listen to her. My brain was scrambling for an answer, as though maybe I had missed something, or misunderstood. What had she been doing this whole time?
Theo could clearly sense my distress. He placed a hand on my shoulder and was about to speak when I spoke first.
‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ I said. I needed to be alone. I needed to think.
Upstairs I walked straight to the back bedrooms where everything was supposed to be stored and found only a small stack of boxes in one; this was the extent of Jocelyn’s clear-out. In Augusta’s room the bed had been removed to make way for our own bed, but otherwise her belongings were just as she’d left them, strewn about as though at any moment she might return and have need of them. Every room was the same; filled with the possessions of people long gone. It was more like a tomb than a home.
Theo came running up the stairs behind me. He seemed flustered.
‘Have you been to the toilet yet?’ he asked.
‘No, why?’
‘Don’t freak out,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘She just told me,’ he said, but before he could finish I stormed off into the bathroom. There was a gaping hole in the wall above the bath and exposed pipes sticking out.
‘Where’s the shower?’ I asked.
‘It’s not finished.’
‘No shit,’ I snapped.
‘There’s no need to get angry,’ Theo said calmly.
‘Isn’t there?’
We were both speaking in a hushed but urgent manner.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know this isn’t ideal—’
‘Ideal!?’
‘I’m upset too.’
‘Good,’ I said, ‘you should be. This is pretty fucking upsetting.’
‘We’ll sort it out. I promise. But right now we need to unload the van.’
‘No. No way,’ I said, sitting on the edge of the bath in futile protest.
‘Angel, please—’
‘Don’t you dare angel me right now.’
‘Okay,’ he said, hunkering down to be on my level, ‘but the thing is, we have to bring the boxes in. We don’t have to unpack. Let’s just bring everything in, then figure this out.’
He was right. As much as I hated to admit it. As much as I wanted to tell Jocelyn to shove this fucking crypt up her arse, and leave here for ever, Theo’s plan was somewhat more logical.
Once we’d brought everything inside, Theo sat Jocelyn down in the living room and asked her why she’d lied to us about the place being ready.
‘I already told you, Theodore, the shower will be sorted in a few weeks,’ she said. ‘The guy took my money and never came back.’
Where was she finding these people?
‘All right,’ said Theo, rubbing his temples with his fingertips, ‘but it’s not just about the shower, is it?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, all doe eyes, like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.
‘I mean, there’s nowhere for us to put our things, Mum. The place is full to the brim and we have all this to unpack.’
He swept one hand across the room, highlighting the dozens of boxes we’d just brought in. There were more filling the kitchen and hallway.
‘Well, how was I to know you had so much stuff?’ she spat indignantly.
Theo looked at me. I said nothing. I was literally biting my tongue.
‘Of course we have stuff,’ he said. ‘We had an apartment together. It was full of stuff. And, generally speaking, you take your stuff with you when you move.’
‘Don’t patronise me,’ she said.
‘I’m not patronising you.’
‘Well, I don’t like your tone!’
Theo took a deep breath before replying. I couldn’t believe how calm he was.
‘Mum, you said you would have the place ready for us. You said you would clear it out. And you haven’t.’
She started to tear up. I saw it. Theo saw it too.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Nobody’s angry with you. We just need to figure out how we’re going to sort this out. Otherwise we might have to find another place.’
Jocelyn looked up at Theo like a guilty child afraid of being punished.
‘There’s no need to be like that, Theodore,’ she said, tears spilling down her face now. ‘I tried. I just couldn’t do it all myself. The gutter fell off last week and I didn’t know what to do.’
Part of me wanted me to run to her, to soothe and comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right. Another, much bigger part of me wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her so hard that her head snapped violently back and forth. Snot was streaming out of her nose now. I had to look away.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Theo, presumably taking in this new piece of information about the gutter. ‘Why didn’t you ask for help then? Why did you tell me it was done if it wasn’t?’
‘I don’t know,’ she bawled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. ‘I’m sorry.’
There was no talking to her after that. She was inconsolable. And even though we were the ones who ought to be upset, she was the one being comforted. It made my blood boil.
Eventually Theo took her home and got her settled, then came back to find me sitting on the floor, staring at boxes. He was stuck firmly between a rock and a hard place and I felt for him, which is the only reason I didn’t say, ‘I told you so.’ That, and I was too tired for a fight. He leaned in the doorway and looked down at me.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘You should eat.’
‘Okay.’
‘Pizza?’
‘Fine.’
We ordered pizza and ate it in silence. After that we dragged our mattress into the living room and I found the box with our sheets in it and made up a bed for us. Theo fell asleep within minutes. I was awake for most of the night.
By the time he woke up at 9 a.m. I’d already been clearing out Augusta’s bedroom for three hours. The wardrobes and drawers were all empty now, and every surface was clear; all that remained was a thick layer of dust, and the odd clean patch of wood here and there in the shape of whatever object I had removed: a hairbrush, a jewellery box, a porcelain pot from a long-dead plant. I heard Theo shuffling about downstairs, ripping boxes open, then came the blessed sound of a kettle bo
iling, and a teaspoon clanging against the edge of a mug. When he came upstairs with two cups of tea, I accepted mine gratefully and we sat on the window ledge together, sipping quietly.
‘I didn’t think you’d want to stay here,’ said Theo.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘but I spent hours looking for apartments last night and couldn’t find a single decent one in our price range.’
As I lifted my mug to my mouth, Theo noticed the haphazard bandage on my index finger; I’d been wiping dust off a shelf when a broken piece of wood tore through the cloth and stabbed me in the finger – I pulled out all I could but I suspected there was still a shard of wood lodged under the skin.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Just a splinter.’
He nodded then scanned the room.
‘You’ve done a great job,’ he said. ‘I’ll move those boxes into the other room now and then I’ll help you finish cleaning in here.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘No?’
‘No, you’re going to your mother’s house to get the name and number of every person she’s hired to install a shower or fix a gutter or set up wifi or whatever else needs doing. And then you’re going to deal with them all yourself.’
‘Okay, boss,’ said Theo, smiling. ‘And what are you gonna do?’
‘I’m going to sort this place out.’
‘By yourself?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I called my mam this morning. She was on her way to the airport before we even hung up. So she’ll be here soon. Maya and Darren are on their way as well.’
Theo looked at me with wide eyes and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or appreciative. He was probably embarrassed about everyone seeing the state of the house, or hearing about his mother’s behaviour, but either way he’d have to suck it up; I needed reinforcements.
‘What will I tell my mum?’ he asked.
‘I don’t care what you tell her,’ I said. ‘Just keep her out of my way.’
Maya turned up that Saturday morning with two bags full of cleaning products and cloths. My mam arrived shortly after with a small suitcase containing only comfy work clothes and a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves. Maya said she’d brought gloves for everyone but my mother insisted on using her own. The pair hit it off immediately.
