Page 20 of Her Fixer Upper

‘Shall we unpack? Perhaps we should see if we can get the gate open. It might be easier to lug our stuff in through the back door. At least that opens wider than the front one.’

‘Good plan,’ said Charlie.

‘I’ll dump this in the kitchen and start a recycling pile,’ I said, picking up the bottle again.

Charlie reached out and grabbed the bottle from my hand. ‘No, let’s save it for posterity. We can clean it up and put it above the fireplace when we’ve restored it. A memento of our first day in Oak Tree Cottage.’

‘I didn’t have you down as the sentimental sort, Charlie.’

‘Let’s blame the fizz. Despite the tough guy appearance, I’m a softie at heart. Besides, it’s not every day that I move into my very own house.’

I laughed. ‘Tough guy appearance? You’re as tough as a teddy bear. And that’s why I like you,’ I added lightly, when Charlie pretended to look hurt. ‘And who gets custody of the bottle when we sell up?’

‘We’ll worry about that when the time comes,’ he replied. ‘Right, let’s take a look at this gate before it starts to get dark. Teddy bear or tough guy, the work still has to get done.’

Fortunately the gate gave up with less of a fight than the front door. We propped it open, then Charlie drove his car onto the patch of waste land that we were optimistically referring to as the driveway and we started unpacking.

‘Remind me why we turned down the kind offer of both sets of parents to help us move in?’ said Charlie, panting as he lugged another box of tools into the house.

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I said, equally breathless as I attempted to balance five bags of various homeware essentials on my shoulders. ‘Didn’t we think it would be better if we did it ourselves, put our own stamp on the place and demonstrate that we’re independent and capable individuals? Because if that was the logic behind our decision, it was completely stupid and we need to remember that in the future. Does your car have some kind of Mary Poppins function? We must have done about fifty trips apiece and it still looks as full as it did when we started.’

‘Nearly done,’ said Charlie, putting on the kind of overly positive voice I would normally use when persuading the Year Sevens to complete their end-of-term projects.

‘At least the weather is playing ball,’ I said, then immediately regretted saying the words out loud. ‘Sorry, I’ve just condemned us to a massive thunderstorm or something, haven’t I?’

Charlie tramped past with the box containing the camping stove and kettle. He glanced up at the now very dark sky.

‘I think we’ll be okay for a few hours. But perhaps we should call it a day for the time being and have something to eat? We’ve got the sleeping bags and cooking stuff inside. The rest can wait until the morning.’

‘Good call,’ I agreed, glad that I wasn’t the only one feeling incredibly hungry.

We tramped into the kitchen, which was now so gloomy I could barely see my hands in front of my face.

‘Dare we?’ I said, my finger hovering over the light switch.

‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ said Charlie.

‘I’d rather not think about that.’ I closed my eyes and pressed down, bracing myself for the huge jolt of an electric shock which must inevitably follow. But aside from a slight fizzing sound from the switch, which was rather unnerving, I remained unharmed. ‘Is the light on?’ I asked, not daring to look.

‘Let there be light, and lo there is,’ replied Charlie.

I opened my eyes and saw him standing in front of me holding a large battery-operated camping lamp. I looked up at the ceiling light hopefully, but the bulb remained dark.

‘Oh. No power in the kitchen then.’

‘Who needs electricity when we’ve got a super lamp like this? My sister sent it to me as a housewarming present. Ever the practical lawyer, that’s Alexa for you. She was probably worried you’d sue me if you got electrocuted.’

‘If I got electrocuted, I’d be dead, and therefore in no position to be suing anybody,’ I replied pedantically, irritated by his easy acceptance that we were going to have to spend our first night in this place without proper lighting. I’d forgotten how very dark the countryside could be, making every noise around us sound that little bit louder and more disconcerting. I told myself everything would look a lot better in the morning, but for now I would happily have given almost anything for a functioning 100-watt lightbulb.

‘Let’s get this camping stove working,’ said Charlie, tactfully ignoring my mini hissy fit. ‘We’ll boil a kettle, get a cup of tea each and then decide what we can prepare for dinner.’

‘I’ll work the stove, you can turn the tap on. See if you have better luck than I did with the light.’

‘No problemo.’ Charlie whistled cheerily as he waltzed over to the sink. The tap let out a squeal of its own in response, then a groan followed by an eerie silence.

‘It’s only air in the pipes,’ he said, although the tone of his voice did not match the confidence of his diagnosis. ‘Give it a minute and it’ll be flowing through easy as anything.’

The tap let out another grinding noise which was then answered by a shuddering which seemed to emanate from the very walls of the kitchen.

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