Page 27 of The Do-Over

Another six weeks have passed and I’m pretty much back to my old self. What I’m struggling to understand now is how on earth I ever found time to work, let alone put in the long hours and late nights that I don’t miss at all. I seem to have embraced a life of leisure with surprising ease and, although I know I need to figure out a plan at some point, the cushion of my gardening leave and pay in lieu of notice means I’m in much less of a hurry than I was.

A lot of it is doubtless down to my blossoming friendship with Rebecca. Our weekdays tend to follow a pattern where she takes Rollo to school in the morning, and then we hit the gym together for an hour or so, always making sure to be back in time forHomes Under the Hammer, to which we’re both completely addicted. One of us will then make lunch, or sometimes we go out, and then she potters off to collect Rollo from school and I take care of any chores I need to do. I’m turning into a bit of a domestic goddess, even though I say so myself. Although I can still easily afford both Lukasz and Ramona, the cleaner from the same agency, I’ve decided to dispense with them and look after these things myself while I’m not working. It hasn’tbeen a complete success; in my enthusiasm, I over watered the hanging baskets at first, but a bit of online searching helped me to understand why the plants were looking considerably less healthy than they did under Lukasz’s care. Most of them have recovered reasonably well, but I did have to replace a couple and invest in some plant food to put back some of the nutrients I’d unwittingly leached out of the soil.

My cooking has improved in leaps and bounds too. The initial shepherd’s pie wasn’t a total disaster, but I didn’t season anything and the mash was underdone and lumpy. However, Mum and Rebecca have both taken me under their wing, and I’m developing quite an impressive repertoire. The freezer is now stocked with home-cooked meals for the rare nights when I don’t fancy preparing something from scratch, and my fridge and cupboards are full to bursting with healthy, fresh ingredients, along with an array of spices and seasonings. If Alasdair could see me now, I don’t think he’d recognise me. I do still think about him in idle moments, of course, but I expect he’s so busy he’s already forgotten about me.

It’s Wednesday today, or at least I think it is – weekdays tend to blur a bit now – and Rebecca and I are at mine, enjoying our post-gym cup of coffee in front of the TV. Today’s episode ofHomes Under the Hammerfeatures an ex-council flat (always a good investment, we agree, because they’re generally spacious and well built), a three-bedroom end-of-terrace house with a serious damp problem, and a detached house that the previous owner literally stripped back to a shell before promptly going bankrupt.

‘That’s a hell of a project,’ Rebecca remarks as the camera pans round, showing bare brick external walls and nothing else. ‘Where would you even begin with something like that?’

‘It could be fun,’ I reply, writing my estimate of how much the new owner is going to spend on my pad. This is a game we playevery day. Each of us writes down how much we think it will cost to renovate the property, and the closest guess wins. There aren’t any prizes, but it keeps us entertained.

‘It doesn’t look like fun to me,’ she retorts. ‘It looks like it could fall down at any minute.’

‘Yeah, but you could put any layout you wanted in there. You literally have a blank canvas to play with.’

‘Go on then, what would you do?’

‘Assuming the external walls would take the load, I’d keep the downstairs fairly open plan, with a floating staircase against the right-hand wall. So, kitchen-slash-diner on the left there with living area on the right.’

‘I’m not sure about that. If you were cooking something like a curry, the whole house would smell of it.’

‘You’d need a powerful extractor fan, yes, but at least whoever’s cooking wouldn’t feel cut off from the rest of the family.’

‘Good point. And upstairs?’

‘Main bedroom with en suite. That’s a must these days. Depending on space, I’d put in two or three more bedrooms and a family bathroom.’

‘Sounds good. Can I make a suggestion?’

‘Of course.’

‘I think you’d need a study downstairs that was separate from the open-plan area. Lots of people work from home now, so you’d need to have that covered.’

‘Good point. Two and a half months out of a job and I’d completely forgotten that people work!’

We carry on watching as Gary, who owns the shell, outlines his vision for it. He’s going for some structural internal walls that will allow him to take part of the rear wall out and install bifold doors.

‘I mean, that could work too,’ I say to Rebecca. ‘I wonder if you could have the best of both worlds though, if you put in some massive RSJs to support the walls.’

‘Listen to you,’ she says, laughing. ‘Miss Construction Expert of the year.’

‘Technically, I’d be Ms Construction Expert, and anyway, you’re no better.’

The programme switches back to the flat for a while, and we watch in silence. However, it’s not a peaceful silence. Rebecca is chewing her lip thoughtfully, and glancing at me every so often.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘We should do this,’ she says, and I notice that her eyes have lit up.

‘What do you mean?’

‘OK, bear with me because I’ve only just had the thought and it’s not fully fledged yet. I have to sell my house once probate comes through, right?’

‘Yes,’ I say carefully.

‘And you don’t know what you want to do with your life, but I’m guessing it’s not going to be another high-flying city job.’

‘That’s a fair assumption, yes.’

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