Page 33 of Fix Them Up
Chapter Eleven
‘You’re going to have to move out,’ Liam said casually, a pencil hanging from his ear.
We stood staring at the walls in the box room for – for some reason. I wasn’t really sure why.
Since Liam arrived an hour ago, I’d outlined my vision for the house. I tried to paint a picture of a fictional family and how they’d use the house – the back door, where kids could kick off their shoes and bring in shopping bags. Big sliding doors to throw open at a summer BBQ. A cosy front room with a log burner you could curl up next to at Christmas. In the kitchen, I imagined plaster-pink walls, deep-navy-blue kitchen cabinets, and artfully clashing patterns that make you wonder how on earth they work together – a haven of girlishness.
A girly haven that a big stupid man was invading.
‘What do you mean?’ I twitched.
I’d made a promise to myself not to get frustrated with Liam. Or at least not show my frustrations. Logically, I knew it wasn’this fault – at least not all the time. My ADHD meant emotional regulation was a challenge of mine, and sometimes I could have outbursts of emotions. Sometimes, it was anger or frustration, blissful glee or bubbling excitement. Either way, it was intense and burned bright. And if I suppressed it, it would build and build, like I was in a pressure cooker and then explode.
The funeral was a perfect example.
Nope. Don’t go there.
‘The plaster is knackered. It’s probably as old as the house, eighty years, give or take.’
I waited for him to elaborate until he looked up, and his eyes met mine.
‘The kind of work you want to do, especially the new light fittings and switches, I’ll need to channel through these walls to put the new wiring in, and the plaster’s gonna collapse like a warm Easter egg. It’s not gonna hold up a picture frame. And that’s just the practical side of it. It’s not going to look pretty. The finish on the new paint is going to be shocking.’ He shook his head. ‘A complete rewire and replaster.’
‘Rewire, too?’ I squeaked, pound signs flickering across my eyes.
‘Yeah,’ he said gravely. ‘A new buyer will take one look at that fuse board and know it’s ancient. It doesn’t matter how much you polish the turd, it’s still a turd.’
‘Charming,’ I muttered, and Liam’s lips lifted slightly. ‘Are you sure it’s that bad? Can’t we patch it up? I mean, how can you even tell under all this wallpaper?’
Liam reached out and pulled hard on the peeling wallpaper. With it, chunks of grey plaster flew to the ground, throwing up dust everywhere.
I coughed. ‘Okay, point proven.’
‘I figured you’re more of a visual learner.’
Dick. But he was right.
‘It’s going to be a state. Dust where you didn’t think dust could go. Not to mention easier for us lot. With you out of the way, we can work any hours and get this done quickly.’
‘It’s fine – I’ll stay out of the way.’
‘It’s not just the plaster – we’re ripping out your entire bathroom and kitchen. You’ll have nowhere to shower.’
‘I’ll get a gym membership and shower there.’
I was getting desperate now.
‘What will you sleep on, a bed of rubble?’ Liam raised his eyebrow.
‘My air mattress.’
‘I’d give that a week until it gets popped by a chunk of flying plaster. Or Jack dropping a hammer on it.’
My eyes narrowed. He wasn’t helping.
‘Kat,’ Liam said gently. Too gently. Like I was a bomb near explosion. ‘If we’re going to work together, you need to take some of my advice.’
God, I hated he was being sensible.
