Page 29 of Her Fixer Upper

‘Freya? Are you going down with something? You’re looking awfully pink,’ said Charlie, a note of amusement in his voice. I knew he was teasing me, but I hoped his powers of perception hadn’t been up to detecting my increased heart rate.

‘I’m fine,’ I squeaked. But sorting out the Jack and Jill bathroom arrangement had definitely risen up my priority list. Either that or fixing locks to both of the doors. I backed out of the room, feeling my way out with one hand while the other stayed safely in position over my eyes, Charlie’s low rumble of laughter ringing in my ears.

* * *

But the bathroom situation soon reared its head again. It was two days until the new term was due to start, and I was tired, filthy and aching all over after being up since dawn pulling up the carpet in the kitchen. It was a particularly stubborn beast, held in place by rows of grippers with lethal spikes, and a fair amount of glue besides. In other words, the reality of dealing with it bore no resemblance to the YouTube tutorial which I’d carefully studied. The smiley American lady, who incidentally remained unnaturally pristine throughout her DIY tasks, with not a single one of her manicured nails broken or chipped, had pulled the demo carpet up with ease, reassuring viewers with a cheery double thumbs-up followed by ‘This literally works every time, I promise.’ The fact that she hadn’t even broken a sweat had filled me with confidence, which turned out to be seriously misguided, leaving me wondering where I’d gone wrong. But then again, the smiley American would probably have been a whole lot less smiley if she’d encountered the stubborn decor of Oak Tree Cottage. Every time I thought I was starting to get somewhere, I’d discover another gluey patch and have to set to with the chisel.

Charlie meanwhile had been focusing on the walls, scraping away layer upon layer of wallpaper in an attempt to get back to the original plaster. His technique was far removed from the step-by-step guide I’d found online and sent him, but even with his haphazard non-system, he’d managed to get rid of so much gunk from the walls I swear we’d gained several more inches of space. He was doing his usual trick of darting here, there and everywhere around the room, deciding that another section of wall looked much easier than the one he was working on, then just as quickly changing his mind, but I wasn’t going to complain. He seemed to be making better progress than I was with the wretched carpet, even if I was being much more methodical and precise in my approach.

I leaned back on my haunches and surveyed the mess surrounding us, still marvelling at how we were managing to make things look so much worse than they had been.

‘I hate to admit it, but I think the carpet has defeated me for the day. What I want more than anything in the whole wide world is to sink into a hot bath,’ I said, kneading the small of my back in a futile bid to stop it throbbing.

‘I didn’t like to say, but…’ said Charlie, letting his words tail off and pinching his nose as if he could smell something horrible.

‘Thanks a lot. You’re pretty pungent yourself.’

‘The scent of a real man,’ said Charlie, flexing his muscles like a bodybuilder in a contest. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the fact that he was wearing a white boiler suit that made him look like a Bond villain’s hopeless lackey, and he had a giant cobweb in his hair.

I tossed a tatty chunk of carpet in his direction, which he deftly caught in one hand and bowled right back at me, catching me squarely on the shoulder. A cloud of dust sprayed over my dungarees, adding to the patina of grime already covering the denim.

I pretended to cough, even though my nose and mouth were safely protected by the industrial-strength mask I was sporting.

Charlie’s gleeful expression immediately turned to one of remorse.

‘Sorry, Freya, that was thoughtless of me. Do you need your inhaler?’ He was already moving across the room towards it.

‘Fear not, nothing dodgy is going to get through this thing.’ I unhooked the mask and took the welcome opportunity to scratch my nose.

Charlie started laughing.

‘What? Do I have something on my face?’ I said, patting my skin and wondering what was tickling him.

‘Just a very clear tide mark between where your skin has been covered by the mask and where it hasn’t. As I haven’t been wearing a mask, I’m sure my entire face is filthy.’

‘Now I want a hot bath even more. Even the showers in the changing rooms at school would seem like a welcome prospect at the moment.’

Charlie checked his watch. ‘It’s going to be getting dark before too much longer, so I think we can legitimately call it a day. Tell you what, why don’t we boil some water on the camping stove so we can have that hot bath of your dreams?’

I raised an eyebrow, the image of Charlie in the shower making a reappearance in my mind’s eye.

‘Separately, of course,’ he added hastily. ‘Not sure we should risk two of us in a full bath. It would probably go through the floor.’ There was a wicked sparkle in his eyes. I knew I was being teased, but I still felt I had to say something, in case he could somehow read the inappropriate thought I’d just had.

‘And shared baths are most definitely not in The Rules.’

‘Of course. The Rules must be obeyed.’ He clicked his heels together and sketched a mock salute in my direction.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Once we have walls that aren’t covered in hideous decorations, I’m going to frame a copy of The Rules and hang them up.’

Charlie grinned. ‘I’ll look forward to it. Doesn’t mean I’ll promise to follow them.’ He held his hand up to stop the interruption he knew I was about to make. ‘Only joking. Now, do you want to help me fill some buckets?’

‘Without wishing to be the party pooper, let’s not bother. I’m not sure I’ve got enough energy. We both know that it would take most of the night to boil enough water to get anything approximating a warm bath, and I have no idea how we’d balance buckets over the fire. I should have paid more attention at Girl Guides. No, I’ve resigned myself to another cold shower. It’s meant to be good for the circulation after all. Don’t the Scandinavians swear by cold water immersion?’

‘They do, but they also bookend it by getting up a sweat in a sauna. Now you’ve mentioned the idea of a hot bath, it’s all I can think about. Do you think Leila would let us use her bathroom for a wallow?’ asked Charlie.

‘Well, she did mentionI had an open invitation to drop round whenever I like. And I’m sure she’d extend the invitation to you too. But it’s a bit much to turn up on a Saturday evening and suddenly demand to use up all her hot water. What are you doing?’

Charlie had picked up my mobile and looked like he was about to tap out a message.

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