Page 38 of The Blind Date

After the long, tiring Monday that I had just suffered through, Dad’s terrible humour was exactly what I needed to cheer me up.

“Is everything okay, honey?”

"I've got no hot water. There's something wrong with my boiler, but my landlady is away until Sunday, and she says she'll only get someone to take a look at it then."

“Your landlady doesn’t trust anyone to do the job without watching over them, right?”

“Yes,” I confirmed with a tired sigh.

"Let's do this. Call me back on FaceTime and show me the boiler. I’ll check what’s wrong with it, and maybe we can fix it temporarily. At least until Sunday,” he told me. "Worst case scenario, I'll call a builder for you first thing in the morning and get him to check it out for you."

“But Sandra-” I began to protest but then caught myself. Why was I against this? If we didn't call a builder to come and check it out, then I would be without any hot water until Sunday. And even then, it wasn't guaranteed that he would be able to fix it on the spot.

"Fuck Sandra!" Dad swore as I heard some rustling in the background, no doubt leaving the bedroom so he wouldn't wake Mum up. "I know she's a lovely lady, but when she's put my favourite child in a sticky situation like this, I refuse to think of her as lovely anymore."

“Favourite child?” I snorted and laughed. “I’m your only child.”

"That you know of, but don't let your mum hear that," Dad joked. "Now hang up and call me back on FaceTime so I can take a look at your boiler."

I ended the call, and within a few seconds, the both of us were back to speaking on FaceTime. Like most apartments in London, my boiler was in a little, claustrophobic cupboard. It was tiny, and the boiler sat on top of a counter with my washing machine underneath it.

"Come on. Open up that bad boy, and let me look at it." Dad sounded awfully cheerful for a man whose daughter had woken him up this late at night because she didn't want to take a freezing cold shower.

“It is open,” I deadpanned, my lips curving down. “Right?”

"I'm afraid not, kiddo," he chuckled. "You see that latch there? On the right. Slip your finger between the gap there and slowly pull back. That'll open up the bottom section and we can take a look at the thing.”

“Sandra said my boiler was pretty old.”

“It’ll probably need replacing then,” he hummed before instructing me to put the phone closer to the boiler screen. “But hopefully, we’ll be able to put in a temporary fix until that’s possible.”

“Do you notice anything?” I asked Dad.

“Seems like it’s shut down. The screen is blank. Try turning it on.”

"Where's the on button?" I murmured to myself, rising on my tiptoes to better inspect the large piece of machinery. I fumbled around and pressed a few wrong buttons before locating the on button. I didn't know how old this boiler was, but it was certainly old enough for all the writing to have worn off.

“Anything?” Dad asked.

“It’s not doing anything,” I frowned, pressing the button a few more times, but still nothing. “Why isn’t it doing anything?”

“Maybe we could–” Dad began but was cut off by Mum calling out for him in the background. “I’ll be right back, kiddo. Let me see what your mum wants,” he told me before ending the call.

I waited a few moments for my phone to ring again, but it didn't. I tried pressing a few buttons, but nothing happened. It was pointless.

"You just had to fail on me today, didn't you? Today of all days,” I grumbled, willing for the machine to magically switch on and give me the hot water I so desperately craved. "Today has been so terrible, and now I have to shower in freezing cold water. How do you think that makes me feel?"

I continued huffing and puffing, successfully bashing my boiler about but remaining unsuccessful in bringing it back to life. Before I gave in to the temptation of kicking it a few times to get the best of me, I felt my phone vibrate.

A relieved sigh escaped me when I thought it was Dad calling me back to help fix this monstrosity but my best friend’s name on the screen was a welcomed consolation prize.

“You’re not asleep, are you?” Alina immediately asked me when I picked up the phone. With how dark the utility room was, I didn’t blame her for asking.

"Nope, not asleep," I sighed and rubbed a tired hand down my face, no doubt smearing the little makeup I had been wearing all day. If it weren't for this stupid boiler, my face would have been sparkly clean by now.

“You don’t look like you’re in bed.”

“That’s because I’m not in bed.”

---