Fandango in the Apse! Page 13

  I awoke the next morning to glorious sunshine and the sound of birds chirping in the new day. I lay awhile and listened. The country was a good place to live, I decided impulsively, as I flipped back the covers and prepared to meet my challenges. It’s amazing how sunshine has a way of making everything seem possible, don’t you think? I had gone to bed doubting my abilities and woken with renewed hope.

  I would look on the bright side, I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, and if you didn’t count Eddie’s maintenance payments, completely independent of anyone. I had a house to renovate, but was in the favourable position of having the money to do it. The boys liked their new schools and I had good friends in Alison and Mark. What more could anyone want? I asked myself as I headed for the kitchen for a cup of tea. The fact that I didn’t answer myself, was another matter altogether.

  First things first, I needed to make a list of everything I had to do. It was no good sitting back and hoping things would take care of themselves, I reminded myself while I waited for the kettle to boil. I was buzzing a short while later after I’d hunted out a pen and notepad, and cup of tea in hand went back to bed; it felt good to be doing something positive. Propped up on pillows I set to with the list.

  First priority was to get quotes for the kitchen extension and plastering. Then the windows and exterior, maybe the one person could do the lot? Then the wiring and plumbing – no, they needed doing before the plastering.

  ‘See, you’re getting the hang of it,’ I’d said aloud, in order to boost the dent in my newfound confidence the list was producing.

  Am I sounding a bit of a wimp to you? Probably, but in my defence you have to understand I had never done anything like this before. That’s the whole point of having a man around, isn’t it? They may be a pain in the arse, but they do have their uses.

  I was halfway through stripping the four or five layers of wallpaper inch by inch in the boys’ room and getting more frustrated by the minute when Alison phoned. I didn’t take much persuasion to drop everything and after a quick change, I was on my way to her house. The six-mile drive to Retford, the small town where she lived, lifted my spirits. I drove down the country lanes with the windows down, singing my head off to Bat out of Hell blaring from the stereo. Sometimes life was good.

  ‘If it’s that bad, why don’t you get someone in to do it?’ Alison asked, after listening to me complaining about the wallpaper stripping.

  ‘Mmm…I sort of wanted to do it myself, it’s become a battle of wills now between the walls and me.’ I grinned.

  ‘Best of luck with that then,’ Alison said.

  We were drinking ice-cold fresh orange juice on the patio. Her garden was a mixture of Cottage Garden and Victorian refinement and a riot of colour even though it was still early July. Completely different from my garden back in Exeter, which Eddie had teased and pruned into submission to the point where I was sure the shrubs trembled with fright when they dared to drop leaves in autumn. My garden, I decided, would be similar to this one.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve had time to miss the boys yet?’ said Alison a moment or two later.

  ‘No, not yet, I’m enjoying the quiet. It’s amazing how much background noise kids make even when they’re not fighting. I’ve had to keep the radio on all morning for company.’

  ‘You’re missing them.’ She laughed. ‘Look, why don’t you come out with Mark and me at the weekend. You never know, you might meet someone nice?’

  ‘A man? You’re joking, I wouldn’t touch another man this side of the millennium. Jesus, Alison, I can’t believe you suggested that.’

  ‘So, you’re going to be a nun now, is that it?’ She laughed. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it!’

  I left Alison’s armed with a jar of her mother’s recipe, homemade pea and ham soup and the telephone numbers of a couple of plumbers, electricians and a builder. The latter was a school friend of Mark’s and had done work for them in the past.

  Within a few days, I had quotes from the electricians and plumbers, but I hadn’t managed to track down the builder. It was annoying, and quite discouraging. How did the man expect to get work if he never answered his damned phone? If Alison hadn’t recommended him, I’d have been tempted to look elsewhere. After trying all day in between painting the woodwork in the boys’ newly stripped room, I fished out his business card once more and looked at the address. He lived in Beckingham, which I felt sure wasn’t too far away from Gringley-on-the-Hill. It was seven o’clock, there was a chance I might find him in if I called and if not, at least I could leave my number for him to call me.

  My mind made up and ignoring my paint-covered shirt and jeans, I set off. Beckingham turned out to be only fifteen minutes down the road, but in a direction I hadn’t yet been. The village was even smaller than Gringley, and helped by a van parked in a drive with R. Collins, Builder, painted on the side, I located the house in minutes.

  I parked on the side of the road and looked toward the less than neat exterior of the bungalow. Not a good advertisement, I thought, as I headed for the door. On my second knock, I heard a faint “come in” from someone inside. Hmm…what to do? Was he expecting someone else, would he be upset if I just waltzed in? Oh, sod it! I turned the handle and tentatively walked in.

  ‘Hello?’

  Nothing. I tried again louder.

  ‘Hello, I’m looking for Mr Collins.’ Nothing again. This was ridiculous.

  I stepped further into the hall; I could hear sloshing sounds coming from the back of the house and tried once more.

  ‘Hello, is anyone there?’

  A disembodied voice shouted back. ‘I said come in. I’m in the kitchen.’

  This was followed by a grumble, which I couldn’t quite hear. It wasn’t promising and I stood for a moment wondering if I should leave. Working with a grouchy builder wasn’t on the top of my to-do list.

  ‘I said, I’m in the damned kitchen!’

  How rude was he? I ploughed my way through work boots and rucksacks to the back of the house, intending to tell him exactly what I thought of his manners. I barely took notice of the rest of the house, aiming straight down the hall to where the noises were coming from. I rounded a door to my right, and ladies, I have to tell you, the sight that greeted me was mesmerising.

  The man I assumed to be R. Collins, Builder, was wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off jeans. He was scooping water from a fish tank on the floor and the play of muscles on his torso as he emptied the bucket into the sink was a remarkable sight. God, he was fit.

  ‘Oh!’ was all I could manage to say. All thoughts of pulling him up about his rudeness vanished in the face of his unexpected semi-nakedness.

  His “Oh!” in reply, signalled that he had obviously been expecting someone else.

  He recovered quickly and gave me the benefit of an outrageously gorgeous white -toothed grin. I was immediately aware of my paint-stained clothes and untidy hair. This man had an easy charm and wasn’t afraid to use it.

  ‘Sorry, I thought you were Jake with my pizza.’

  ‘You know the delivery person by name?’

  ‘Yep, and the Indian and Chinese.’ He grinned again. ‘Cooking’s not my thing.’

  I looked at the various buckets containing tropical fish, littering the floor. ‘You’re cleaning your fish tank.’ Duh! Just state the obvious, Katie, why don’t you.

  ‘Nah. I’m playing cricket,’ he quipped.

  OK, I deserved that.

  ‘Sorry, stupid question.’

  ‘Um…not that I’m adverse to a good-looking woman in my kitchen, but, who are you?’ Oh yes, he certainly had charm.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ I took a few steps into the room and held out my hand. ‘I’m Katie Roberts; I’ve been trying to phone you for days.’

  He wiped his hand down the leg of his shorts, but it was still damp when he took my hand, I only just resisted wiping it down my own jeans. Behave, Katie.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Katie Roberts. How can I help yo
u?’

  Defuse the high voltage smile and put a shirt on would do for a start, I thought. Men like him made women behave badly. As if he’d read my mind he walked over to the table and reached for a shirt hanging over the back of a chair.

  ‘A friend of mine, Alison Meadows, gave me your card; I need some work doing on my house.’

  A knock on the door announcing what I presumed to be the pizza, had him stepping past me.

  ‘Mark’s wife? Right, no problem…’ drifted back from the hall as he went to open the door.

  I took myself in hand while he was out of the room. You are off men for good, I reminded myself, so stop drooling over this one. After everything that happened with Eddie, I was annoyed a great body could still impress me. I know old habits are hard to break, but jeez, I’d hoped to be more discerning by now.

  The spicy aroma of pepperoni wafted ahead of him as he returned and my stomach protested its hunger.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he said pointing to the box. ‘I haven’t eaten all day.’

  ‘No, you go ahead. Look, I’ll leave you to it, I’m sorry I turned up unannounced. I’ll leave my number; perhaps you could call me at a more convenient time?’

  ‘Now is fine by me, if you don’t mind.’

  He headed for the fridge and withdrew two cans of Coke, and placing both on the table, he indicated for me to take the seat opposite to him. OK, this was difficult. Did I want to sit and watch this hunk wade through a twelve-inch pizza, or go home to beans on toast? No contest, I took the seat and the can. He opened the box and took a slice with obvious relish.

  ‘Help yourself,’ he offered, sliding the box towards me.

  ‘Oh, no, thanks, I’ve already eaten,’ I lied.

  There was no way I was going to sit eating pizza with a virtual stranger, especially one who looked like that one.

  Are you thinking, despite my protests, he was next on my list for a shag-fest? Well, at the risk of disappointing you, I’m afraid the answer is no. However, it didn’t do any harm to window shop and right then, R. Collins, Builder, was the best toy in the window.

  During his meal, I found out the R stood for Robbie and the reason I couldn’t get hold of him was he’d had to rush to Cornwall a fortnight before when his father had suffered a heart attack. He had only returned once he knew his father was on the mend.

  ‘It was touch and go for a while, the old boy is in his seventies, but he’s a fighter,’ he said with obvious pride.

  He finished chewing and pushed the box away. There was a moment’s silence where he sat looking at me. I turned away, willing myself not to blush; it was such a ridiculous thing to do at my age. He smiled one of those secret smiles people do when they know exactly what you’re thinking.

  ‘So, Katie Roberts, what is this work you want doing?’

  I was on safer ground as I explained.

  ‘You bought old Walter’s house, down Beck Lane?’

  His surprise worried me. Was he about to tell me something I’d rather not know?

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Oh, no reason. I had an idea to buy it myself after Walter died, but I’d just bought this place.’ He shrugged.

  I willed my eyes to stay focused on him, but I couldn’t help my gaze straying around the shabby kitchen; it didn’t say a lot for his abilities as a builder if it was still in this state after three years. I snapped my head back in his direction, but it was too late, he’d seen me.

  ‘It’s a work in progress.’ He grinned.

  ‘I wasn’t…’

  ‘Yes, you were.’

  Well, there’s nothing like being forthright.

  ‘I apologise, I wasn’t trying to cast aspersions on your work, I just…’ What? What was I trying to say? Jesus, I was backed into a corner and this grinning Adonis knew it. It was bullshit!

  ‘You’re wondering whether I’m up to the job, right?’ Anger glittered at the back of his big, brown peepers even though he was making an effort to hide it.

  ‘No!’ I said rather too emphatically. ‘It’s just I would have expected a builder’s house to be… well, perfect,’ I finished lamely, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

  ‘Mmm, I get your point, but the problem is, good builders never get time to do their own work, too busy doing everyone else’s, see?’

  It was a fair point well made, and now I was embarrassed. How had that happened? Surely, I’m entitled to know if the builder to whom I’m going to pay thousands is capable of doing the work. It was time I got the upper hand here.

  I moved then, and Robbie followed.

  ‘So… are you interested in giving me a quote? That’s if you have time, of course.’ Why had I added that bit? Now he knew he’d riled me. So much for getting the upper hand.

  ‘I’m always interested, but as I said I’ve just got back, can you give me a couple of weeks?’

  ‘Yes, of course, just drop in if you’re passing; I’m there most of the time. I’m decorating at the moment,’ I said, indicating my clothes, and grateful to be able to give a reason for the state I was in. I left him to sort out his fish tank.

  Back home I replayed the whole scenario. There was something about Robbie Collins; I couldn’t identify what it was, but it was damned irritating. He was sure of himself, almost to the point of arrogance, but that wasn’t it. In the end, I gave up trying to fathom it out. What did it matter anyway? I didn’t have to like the guy, I just needed him to give me a fair quote and a decent job.

  After my beans on toast and a hot bath, I propped myself up in bed and dragged a volume of Accounting Today onto my lap. Pretty soon I’d need to get a job and I was trying to give myself a refresher course – not a good read for bed though, unless you need a good night’s sleep, that is. Accounting, I was fast finding out, was just as boring as I remembered. The book held my attention for about ten seconds until an image of a half-naked Robbie Collins replaced the written word. I couldn’t get him out of my head; well, to be honest, I wasn’t trying that hard.

  You know, sometimes I’m convinced I’m a real idiot. Think about it, five minutes after meeting him, I’m imagining, hot sex with Robbie Collins, although I’m not even sure I like him. That has to be a character flaw, wouldn’t you say?

  I slung the book on the floor and snuggled into the covers willing myself to sleep when a thought thundered into my head. Without giving myself time to think too much, I padded across the room to retrieve an old hat box from the top of the wardrobe. After a quick rummage I found what I was looking for. I don’t mind admitting my hands were shaking as I unfolded the sheet of paper. I laid the newspaper cutting to one side, I didn’t want to look at that. Dawn was actually breaking through the kitchen window when I finally put down my pen. I folded what I had intended to be a short note to Jethro, but in reality turned out to be an eight page missive, and placed it into an envelope ready for posting. As I climbed the stairs again to grab a couple of hours sleep I realised that for the first time in a long time I felt less alone in the world. Jethro’s reply arrived the following week and it was the start of a correspondence that would be a great comfort to us both.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eddie phoned before they all set off to Portugal. He wanted to let me know when he was returning the boys. I offered to meet him halfway as I’d done with Arthur, but he wouldn’t agree to it. That annoyed me. I wasn’t ready to let him see the house; I knew what his reaction would be. I could see him now, turning up his nose, picking faults and I could do without it. He was determined however, and I had no choice but to give in.

  The call galvanised me into action over the next few days. There wasn’t a lot I could do about the house, but the garden was a different matter. I rushed to Retford and with Alison’s help; we bought the gardening tools I needed. With a great deal of input from Alison, Mark and their children, it took most of the week to return the overgrown wilderness to a garden. The lawn had been strimmed, mown and fed and the flowerbeds, with their rescued Rose bushes and new beddin
g plants, provided a welcome wash of colour. A neatly clipped privet hedge now surrounded the garden and the drive looked great with new gravel. My last job was to paint the five bar gate, which Mark had repaired one evening after work.

  The rest of that week, I spent getting the paint on the boy’s walls and my own room finished. I was exhausted by the time Saturday arrived, but incredibly proud of what I’d achieved. For someone who had never decorated before the results were surprisingly good. Toby and Sam’s room was, I hoped, exactly what they wanted. The football theme looked a bit out of place in a house the age of this one, but who cared – it was their choice. My room was a vision of calm with pale green walls, which I’d teamed with a mixture of flowered and striped fabrics in pink and cream. Very girly, I loved it.

  Eddie had estimated they would arrive around five o’clock, at quarter to, I made one last check of the garden. With the intensive feeding and watering Mark recommended, the grass was turning a lush emerald and the petunias, geraniums and marigolds I’d planted were coming along nicely.

  It was actually nearer six before I heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel. I hardly had the front door open before my excited sons engulfed me, both chattering at once. God, how I missed them.

  I kneeled down to hug them both. ‘So, I gather you had a great time,’ I laughed.

  ‘Aw, it was brill’ Mum, we got to go scuba diving and everything!’ said Toby, while hopping from one foot to the other, desperate to tell me everything in the first five minutes.

  ‘Err, I think you’ll find that was snorkelling Toby.’

  I got up from my knees and came face to face with a tanned and relaxed Eddie. Apart from gaining a few more pounds he looked great, which made me feel at a disadvantage straight away. Pride had me making every effort to look my best for this meeting, but let’s face it, I no longer looked as polished as I used to. I had neither the time nor money to lavish on myself, and it showed. We were still in the doorway and I was trying to think of a way of avoiding having to ask him in, when he asked if Ethan could use the loo. I hadn’t noticed him in the car, so the question caught me off guard. I didn’t want to meet Ethan, but I couldn’t deny him the use of the bathroom. Shit!