Page 28 of Her Fixer Upper

‘An Easter egg hunt today, village hall committee tomorrow, you heard what Sheila said.’

I knew I sounded cold and uncaring, but one of us had to be sensible and think of the bigger picture. Charlie seemed to be getting carried away at playing house.

‘How about we compromise? Let’s see how much we get done before eleven, and then make a decision,’ said Charlie.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But don’t blame me if we get to Christmas and we’re still living in a building site.’

* * *

Inevitably eleven o’clock came round and I found myself walking along the main street to the village green accompanied by Charlie, who’d decided it would be fun to dress up as the Easter bunny in a bright pink onesie with a pair of cardboard ears. There was no chance of keeping a low profile while he was around. Under protest, I’d allowed him to draw some whiskers on my face with eyeliner. While he somehow managed to pull off his look with aplomb, I was pretty convinced that I looked ridiculous. I took a deep breath and told myself to try and loosen up. If Charlie could look so relaxed walking around in public in a fluffy onesie, then I could cope with saying hello to a few of the neighbours while sporting a very bad attempt at face paint.

‘I’m so glad you could come along. Let me introduce you to everyone,’ said Sheila, swooping down on us as soon as we arrived at the village green. The whole area was decked out in pastel-coloured bunting and, despite the chilly weather, a large crowd was gathering. There were a couple of stalls selling hot drinks and a barbeque with a cloud of black smoke above it. Children were running around playing chase as a harassed-looking person dressed as an Easter chick tried to call them to order through a megaphone. For one horrible moment, I thought Sheila was going to seize it so she could follow through on her promise to introduce us to literally everyone. Fortunately she decided to take a more personal approach, parading us around the crowd like a proud parent. Charlie was in his element, laughing and joking, while I desperately tried to keep track of everyone’s names. We received a very warm welcome, although it was worrying how many of them pulled shocked faces when we said we’d bought Oak Tree Cottage. At some point during the introductions, we got separated, and I was left alone to field questions about our plans. I knew people were trying to be helpful by telling me all about their decorating experiences, but I wished they had a few more positive tales to relay rather than the horror stories they treated me to. I did not feel confident enough in my decision to be constantly defending it to strangers. Eventually I managed to sneak away to a quiet area behind the food stands and rang Leila.

‘Hello, stranger, missing me already?’ she answered cheerily. I pictured her lounging around in her neat little flat with its central heating and functioning electricity and wished for the fifty millionth time that I’d stood my ground about staying elsewhere while we did the renovations.

‘Of course. And I’m harbouring some serious nostalgia for your luxuriously comfortable sofa bed.’

‘My flat is always there waiting for you if you need a retreat.’

‘Be careful, I might take you up on that offer.’

‘Already? I thought you’d be in the blissful honeymoon phase of house ownership?’

‘That wore off as quickly as the effect of the champagne the estate agent gave us. There is nothing blissful about Oak Tree Cottage, and if Charlie has anything to do with it, it’s going to stay that way.’ I quickly explained about the village Easter egg hunt and the well-intentioned but ultimately unhelpful comments from my new neighbours. ‘I feel like I’ve got on a rollercoaster and I don’t know how long the ride is going to last, and whether it’s actually safe.’

‘My advice to you is to try to enjoy the journey, and not beat yourself up if you’re not spending every minute of every day working on the house. You’ll get it done eventually. There’s no point in giving yourself a breakdown in the process.’

‘You know me too well. I just can’t help worrying when I think of how big a challenge we’ve taken on. And I don’t want to end up bossing Charlie around, but he seems way more chilled out about the whole thing than I can manage. I’m finding it rather frustrating, if I’m being honest.’

‘Your work ethic is always something I’ve admired, hon, but consider this your permission slip to cut yourself a little slack. Let Charlie pull his weight in his own way. That’s what you’ve got The Rules for, right? You might have different approaches, but you have the same goal, and I have faith that you’ll achieve it. Now why don’t you go and find yourself a coffee, and enjoy being part of village life?’

With Leila’s pep talk ringing in my ears, I picked up a couple of drinks and tracked down Charlie. At least the luminous onesie made him easy to find.

‘Freya, there you are,’ he bounced over, full of enthusiasm. ‘Shame you missed the fun but don’t worry, I’ve saved you an Easter egg. They got enough for the adults as well as the children. By the way, I thought you’d be pleased to know I’ve volunteered to help out with the village hall social media accounts in exchange for some help from Sheila’s husband Frank, who’s apparently a dab hand at tiling.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ I said, recalling Leila’s advice. ‘Chocolate and a friendly craftsman. You were right, it was worth coming along after all.’

Charlie waggled his bunny ears. ‘Ye of little faith. Trust me, there’s always method in my madness.’

ChapterThirteen

The remaining days of the Easter holidays were spent on solid labour, to the point where I was actually looking forward to going back to work at school because, in comparison, it would seem like a break. The first skip was full of detritus within three days, and we were well on our way to filling its replacement, Charlie having rung Granddad’s contact and managed to persuade them to come out more quickly than they normally would. But no matter how many things I tore down and threw out, it seemed that there were still countless more in their place, and my to-do list was growing terrifying long with tasks I would never have thought existed when I first drew it up.

As term time grew closer, I had to balance renovation with preparing lessons, and my forehead started to develop a permanent dent from the head torch I wore to carry out my work in the evening, much to Charlie’s amusement. We’d agreed to leave the electrics to the professionals, but it turned out that the professionals in this area were in such demand that they had a waiting list, and it would be three weeks before they’d be able to come out to provide a quote, even though Charlie’s village hall contacts had tried to pull some strings for us. The spring evenings were gradually growing lighter, at least, but I would greatly have preferred not having to live as if I was in an historical re-enactment. I was nervous of using candles in case we set the place on fire, and even the most powerful battery lamps still made my eyes ache by the end of the night.

And although we’d managed to work out how to turn the water on, it was still running cold, despite our best efforts. I’d mastered the art of the two-minute shower, but I was yet to manage it without yelping in pain at the sheer cold. The first night Charlie had come charging upstairs, thinking something had fallen on me. Thankfully I’d managed to convey the real reason for the noise before he’d thundered into the room in full-on saviour mode. He teased me about it for all of an hour until he tried the shower himself, after which he fell suspiciously quiet on the topic.

Unfortunately, Charlie was so good at not making a noise in the freezing shower that one day I barged in while he was mid-wash.

‘Oh heck, sorry, Charlie,’ I said, quickly covering my eyes, but not quickly enough to wipe the image of his chest glistening with water, plus the rest of his unexpectedly attractive physique, which was already imprinted on my brain. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

‘Did you want something?’ asked Charlie. ‘Can you chuck a towel over?’

I groped around, my hand still covering my eyes, until I found one and threw it in what I hoped was the right direction. There was a pause, then the shower stopped.

‘You can open your eyes, I’m decent now,’ he said. ‘What were you after?’

‘Erm, I…’ I stammered, trying to reboot my mind back into sensible mode, and keeping my eyes firmly shut. Why were my thoughts running in such an unexpected direction? It was disconcerting to be seeing my old friend inthatway.

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