When my arm touched her skin, the warmth sent a ripple of desire through me that rooted me to the spot. Then I came to my senses and realised this was a customer, and a difficult one, at that. I made an excuse and took myself off to the van for a breather while she dressed. It's the only place I feel I can sit for a quiet moment and relax. Terence was on his way out and stopped for a chat.
"You look harassed," he commented, frowning at me. "Problems?"
"Plumbing and wiring. Nothing is in the right place for the new layout and I'm not a magician. I can only do the best I can, especially with the deadline she's given me."
"Oh, sorry to hear it's like that. But then it is a big job. How, um, are you getting on with Maddie?"
This might be paranoia, but it strikes me it's a rather odd question for Terence to ask. I wonder if the delightful Miss Brooks has been talking about me.
"I'm trying to keep the social chatter to the minimum, to be honest, Terence. It's unlikely we have anything in common other than Ash Cottage. I need to get this job finished as quickly as I can and move on. I realise now I should just have said 'no', but I needed something to really get my teeth into. First Aggie and then my mother; it's a lot to get my head around at the moment. Losing people you care about leaves a hole and it's a reminder nothing lasts forever. At least redesigning the plumbing for the new kitchen layout Miss Brooks is insisting upon, requires complete concentration and all of my problem-solving skills. What she doesn't seem to understand is that while it isn't easy to move the cold supply from one wall to another, it's do-able. But it's virtually impossible to move the drainage unless you start digging up concrete floors."
That came out in a rush and Terence looks rather surprised.
"Well, keeping occupied is good, but maybe you need to explain the nature of the problems to her. If it doesn't mean very much to me, it will probably mean even less to her. I'm not being sexist, but I doubt she's ever really given it any thought."
I nod. He might have a point there. However, I'm the plumber and it's not a part of my job to educate her. Terence means well, but she isn't some young, naïve lady who hasn't owned a house before. Maybe her problem is that she's just a control freak and if that's the case, then sorry, lady, but you've picked the wrong man.
MADDIE
CHAPTER 17
The phone isn't working again this morning and I have to do the walk to ask Ryan if he can ring his contact and see if they can send out an engineer.
When we speak he's concerned that the heavy rain has continued and the number of flood warnings being issued each day is growing. It means that this isn't a little problem that is going to go away soon. So many houses are now completely cut-off – little communities stranded and acre upon acre of fields disappearing under ever-growing lakes that seem to stretch out endlessly.
Walking back to the cottage I pass Terence, who tells me that down on the lower road it's now restricted to one lane as a team endeavours to clear out the culvert. Apparently, the local paper indicated it's likely that the only solution is to rebuild the area that has collapsed. The pumps are working around the clock to keep the water level as low as possible. Driving through the swirling, muddy water, he says it comes halfway up the wheels of a car and even at low-speed it's hard not to create a series of waves that seems to drag even more soil from the quickly eroding bank. Thankfully all of the properties along the route are now well sand-bagged and beginning to dry out. The sheer misery this has caused is heart-breaking and I realise just how lucky we are, high up here on the hill.
Inside the cottage things are progressing, although I'm keeping well away from Lewis. With the newly-plastered wall in the main bedroom drying out nicely now the heating is back on, Simon told me to open the windows an inch or two, to stop it drying out too quickly and cracking. Lewis is now working on the kitchen floor. He has laid a levelling compound, so the downstairs bathroom is out of action today. I have to say that it's a little bit awkward knowing that every time either of us visits the upstairs bathroom it's a reminder of our little mishap.
The rain eases off mid-morning and as I put the final coat of paint on the dining room window sill, Lewis walks past with a dirty trowel and a bucket. He disappears, returning a few minutes later after visiting the outside tap. I look up once more and the merest hint of a smile passes between us.
"You have another problem," he calls out as he walks back into the conservatory.
I thought it was too good to be true to anticipate a whole day without something going wrong.
"You'd better come and take a look at this."
I put down the paint brush and follow him outside. The sky is still a mass of ominously grey cloud, but for the moment the rain has stopped. I notice that the paving stones leading around to the terrace in front of the conservatory now have a pale-green hue. The algae make the surface extremely slippery underfoot. As if reading my mind, Lewis extends his arm.
"Careful, mind you don't slip."
The contact is purposeful and I'm relieved that his motive is genuine. This isn't touching just for the sake of it.
"Thanks. What exactly are we looking at?"
He nods his head in the direction of two, rather large, Calor gas bottles that stand tucked away in the corner, to the right of the kitchen window. Above one of the bottles, which are chained to the wall, is a mass of something.
"What is it?" I ask, moving closer to get a better look.
"Squirrels have chewed through the pipe. It means that when the new range arrives today, only the electric oven will work until it can be replaced; might be best to consider a reinforced one next time."
"They chew pipe? What on earth is the point of that?"
As Lewis begins to explain that squirrels will chew absolutely anything, the sound of Ryan's voice makes me look up.
Lewis spins his head around, following my gaze.
"Ryan, what a surprise, you didn't mention you were going to call in. This is Lewis Hart, my contractor. Lewis, this is my boss, Ryan Fielding."
Ryan steps forward and they shake hands, weighing each other up as men have a tendency to do.
"I just wanted to see the extent of the flooding for myself and check that you were okay. Is the phone line still down? I've booked an engineer anyway, but apparently some lines were affected for a while overnight. I couldn't try ringing you on it as I don't have your new number. When you gave them permission to talk to me to sort out your installation, apparently that didn't extend to them divulging your new number. Data protection is seriously getting out of hand these days.
"Oh, I see you have a problem with squirrels. Better watch out if you leave any windows open, the little blighters can do a lot of damage."
Lewis nods in agreement and heads off back inside.
"How's it working out?" Ryan asks, as soon as Lewis is out of earshot.
"Good. The kitchen has been stripped out and the white goods will hopefully arrive later on today. When the actual units arrive tomorrow, Lewis has said he will make sure I have a working sink and at least one fitted cupboard with a worktop before he finishes on Christmas Eve. The main bedroom has already been re-plastered and Simon did a good job of making good after Lewis chipped off those dated wall tiles in the kitchen. We're on target. Come and take a look."
The kitchen now looks slightly less hideous, with flat, clean walls and the dark-grey levelling compound on the floor is already starting to lighten as it dries. Lewis is in the conservatory sorting out a pile of timber that was delivered first thing. He's going to start work on the framing for the fridge and freezer until the floor is safe to walk on, in about three hours. The walnut flooring also arrived yesterday and that was a relief. Most of it won't be laid until the New Year, but Lewis has to lay the boards in the kitchen area before the units can be fitted.
Ryan seems genuinely surprised at the progress. The former dining room is now white and bright, a little oasis from the chaos of the rest of the cottage.
"You're starting to feel
at home here, but you really do need a blind up to this window, Maddie. A woman alone, in an out-of-the-way location like this! There are some weird people about."
"Stop worrying. It's in the garage. I just haven't had time to put it up yet."
"I'll unpack the modem so you can plug it in once the line is up and working again. You find that blind and ask Lewis if I can borrow his drill. That's an order, not a request."
This is so out of character for Ryan that I find myself puzzling over his behaviour as I walk away. Is he really concerned that I'm at risk, and if so, should I be worried, too? Lewis has also made a couple of comments about the blind, but then it's in his line of work. However, I can't recall Ryan ever getting involved in do-it-yourself. I didn't even know he knew how to use a drill!
By the time I've located the blind, taken it out of the wrappings and walked back to the cottage, Ryan already has the modem unwrapped and plugged in. There are no lights flickering, so obviously the line still isn't working. I fetch a box with my laptop and printer and put it down on the corner of the coffee table, leaving Ryan to sort out the leads.
"I'll keep chasing for that engineer's visit, Maddie. I'll feel better once I know you are more easily contactable."
I saunter off in search of The Man Who Can.
"Lewis, are you using your drill? Ryan has offered to put the blind up for me in the temporary bedroom."
Lewis finishes marking up a piece of timber, running a pencil line against the spirit level, which is wedged beneath his knee.
"No need, I'll put it up before I go."
Immediately his head is back down and he's marking off another measurement.
"Um…great. Thanks."
Is this an awkward moment we're having here? Are men protective of their tools – really? Ryan's reaction surprises me even more.
"That's ridiculous. It would take me ten minutes tops. What's wrong with the guy? It's not like I'm taking work away from him. He already has his hands full."
I'm not sure who, out of the two of them, is acting more ridiculously.
When Ryan leaves for home, my laptop work station is all set up awaiting the internet connection. He scowls as he passes the window, which is still blind-less. Walking alongside him, I sense his annoyance.
"If you have any concerns at all, no matter what time of the day, or night, I want you to head up that hill and ring me, right? I'll come straight over. Remember, it takes a long time to really get to know someone. And even then, they can surprise you when you least expect it. Besides, I'm not happy for you to spend your birthday here, Maddie, if I'm honest. I'm sure your sons would feel the same way if they knew."
"Don't fuss. It's one birthday and one Christmas – next year will be amazing."
Why is he suddenly so worried? We have our customary hug before he climbs into the car, then he plants a kiss on my cheek. I feel myself colouring-up.
As he reverses out onto the hill, there's a frown on his face, which disappears behind a smile when he finally raises his hand in a wave. I thought he'd be pleased to see the progress, but maybe I'm fooling myself and he thinks things should be moving along faster.
Walking back down the path I feel a little deflated. Ryan usually cheers me up. He's been a tower of strength and he's the only person in whom I feel I can confide. A cold sensation begins to fester in the pit of my stomach.
Ryan is my boss and a good friend; would he feel slighted if he felt there was something I didn't think was his business to know? And what about the kiss?
Lewis looks up as I close the door behind me.
"So, he's your boss?"
I raise my eyebrows, in sheer frustration. Not you, too, Lewis. If there's going to be any muscle-flexing around here, you'd both better do it when you're off my property. No one owns me, I'm a free woman and I no longer have to spend my time keeping men happy, or explaining myself. Whether that's ex-husbands, sons, hired help or bosses. This woman is doing it for herself!
CHAPTER 18
I try my best not to become increasingly paranoid about the remaining deliveries. The fridge, freezer, cooker and washing machine are all due to arrive sometime today from The Appliance Store and at least Ryan is proof that the main road is still passable. The postman, who doesn't appear until late-morning, explains that a number of smaller roads through the Forest have experienced subsidence problems and the weight limits have been restricted. One by one, the routes through to our little part of the world seem to be ruled out and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they don't have to shut the main road.
With Christmas just three days away, I've also placed a large order to stock up the new fridge and freezer. That will be one more worry off my mind and another big item ticked off the to-do list if that, too, arrives today. At least I won't have to worry about food until the end of January, at the very earliest. Plus I'm already fed up with eating sandwiches.
Lewis pops out to pick up a new pipe to replace the one the squirrels chewed up and to collect some fittings he's ordered, ready to install the new range cooker. Earlier in the morning he'd looked quite serious when he was sitting cross-legged on the floor making his list.
Of course, deliveries are great but every time something is delivered it presents a problem. The cottage is small and Lewis needs room in which to work. I was a little dismayed when the flooring arrived yesterday, as the huge mountain of boxes and rolls of foam underlay now mean my temporary kitchen is reduced to a very tight corner. But it feels good to know it's here and it's one thing less to worry about. Plus the new white goods will at least be in situ and working by the end of the day, and I'm excited about that. It will be a big step forward.
There's a knock on the door just as I'm about to put on the kettle and have a break from sanding the stair spindles. I'm surprised to see Sarah from the estate agents standing outside with a box in her hands, trying her best to shield it from the rain.
"I come bearing gifts," she laughs. "No, not really, but I think this will be of interest to you."
"Great, come in. I was just about to make a cup of tea. Do you have time to join me?"
She nods and I notice that she isn't wearing her usual suit, but she's casually dressed in black jeans, beneath her soggy top coat.
"It's my day off. I've been to visit a friend who lives about ten minutes' drive away. You won't believe what I've had to drive through!"
I stare at the package in her arms; it's about the size of two shoe boxes and has a faded pattern on the outside. It looks old and rather fragile.
"The company who did the house clearance auctioned off a lot of the furniture. Obviously whoever emptied out the personal contents of the house missed this. It was in a dressing-table drawer. The relatives didn't want it and it looks like it's full of receipts and stuff to do with the house. The auctioneers asked me to pass it on to you. I thought you might want to go through it, in case it solves the mystery of the land at the back. You never know, the answer might be right here." She places the box down on one of the folding chairs and then slips off her coat.
"Thanks, that's thoughtful. Spread your coat out over that chair, it might dry off a little. I did think it was strange there weren't many documents with the deeds. People of that era kept absolutely everything. Unlike today, when it's all electronic, in bygone years at least snail mail left a physical record. Goodness, even I can't find things on my laptop, let alone anyone else carrying out a search. I guess in this wonderful age of technology and communication overload, a lot is going to get lost in the future."
Sarah chuckles as I hand her a mug of steaming tea.
"This already feels like a different place," she comments, looking through into the former dining room.
"I'll give you the tour – not that there's much more than basic building work being done at the moment. It's more about ripping it apart and making good the walls. My temporary bedroom is cosy, though, come on through."
Seeing it through Sarah's eyes, it does look inviting. The white room feels more
spacious than the size would give credit for, and with the blind and matching bedding in a zingy white with over-sized green and pale-yellow leaves, it feels very country with a contemporary vibe.
"Wow, I wasn't expecting this. At least it's a little sanctuary while the work is going on around you. That low ceiling certainly works to give it a cosy feeling now there's some furniture in here."
We walk through to the kitchen and Sarah does a double-take.
"Goodness, for a tiny kitchen, now it's stripped out it looks twice the size. What colour units are you putting back in?"
"Here's the 3D plan," I pull a few sheets of paper out of Lewis' tool box. "Sorry about the dirt and dust, it's not the best filing cabinet."
I smirk and she laughs.
"How's it working out? He seems to have done a lot in a short space of time."
This is my chance to ask a few questions, but I don't want Sarah to feel I'm quizzing her. Ignoring any hint of a dilemma, I say the first thing that pops into my head.
"Great. I've never known a tradesman work Saturdays and Sundays without having to twist their arms. I get the impression he's not from around here, which was a surprise."
Sarah sips her tea then frowns slightly.
"He isn't, although he's looking to settle in the Forest at some point. I don't think it's a secret that he's looking to buy something to do up."
"Oh. Why didn't he make an offer on Ash Cottage? I would have thought it would have been a perfect project for him."
She nods, taking another sip.
"In strictest confidence, he was going to. I had a message on my desk to call him urgently when I arrived back in the office after your viewing. If he'd phoned through on my mobile, as my colleague suggested, he might just have beaten you to it. He wasn't here when the For Sale sign went up, his mother died unexpectedly and he had to go back home for a couple of weeks to sort out the funeral. A case of unfortunate timing, I'm afraid."
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