Page 49 of Fix Them Up
Jack laughed. ‘Oh, I think he was something.’
Unsurprisingly, Liam spent the remainder of the week in a foul mood. He seemed to take most of his grumpiness out on Jack. Liam questioned if Jack had ordered the right skip. He questioned him about tiling and barked orders about the skirting boards. At some point, Liam seemed one step away from questioning if Jack was breathing the correct way.
It made me feel bad for Jack and a little resentful towards Liam.
Couldn’t he give the guy a break?
While Liam was harsh with Jack, he was kind towards Freddie, the very tall, skinny lad who shovelled rubble into the skip better than I could and went bright red when I asked if he’d like another cup of tea. Liam’s voice was gentle but instructive when they huddled on the floorboards, chatting through some pipework under the house.
By the end of the week, I’d become accustomed to banging plaster off walls, and Liam hadn’t mentioned how therapeutic it was to wield a hammer. It was probably because me, plus a hammer, was his worst nightmare. Knocking off all the plaster from the walls was fun and cathartic. Sometimes, if I got a good section, the entire wall would fall off in one go, and I wanted to squeal. It was even more satisfying than peeling back wallpaper. Or those pimple-popping videos I watched in secret.
However, shuffling heavy plaster in plastic buckets down the stairs was much more challenging. At some point, Liam helped with the heavier buckets. I watched his muscles flex as he grabbed the bucket with only a little strain.
I’d never been the type to go for muscular men. I usually went for the granola hipster type. They usually were decked out in Carhartt, one of those tiny beanies and a signet ring on their pinkie. They would mansplainThe Godfathertrilogy. They would announce that they’d watched the latest Greta Gerwig film as if they had completed feminism. And they were always disappointing in bed.
But I wasn’t ever interested in a relationship. I blamed it on my ADHD.I get bored of them,I explained if anyone asked why I’d never had a relationship longer than three months, usually either Willa or my mother. I’d never bothered with therapy because it didn’t take an expensive appointment to pinpoint my commitment phobia. I was worried about getting hurt. My mum divorced my dad, and he disappeared. Even Willa, one of the strongest women I knew, was messed around by fuck-face John.
Honestly, it seemed more hassle than fun.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the male form of Liam Hunter.
Objectively, of course.
I cleared the plaster in all three bedrooms on my own. It felt like months of grief and stress had been pounded on the walls, and I felt lighter. Lifting the weight of the hammer had relieved the weight on my chest. Jack was impressed. Liam nodded, and I gave him a smug grin, and he retorted with a roll of his eyes.
I had exactly what I’d wanted – a new purpose.
On Friday, I was finishing hauling the last few bits of plaster when I paused on the stairs. Jack and Liam speaking in hushed tones in the hallway.
‘She’s living with you? What about Abigail?’ Jack asked. His tone was light but loaded with some hidden meaning. Who was Abigail? Was this a girlfriend of Liam’s? He’d never mentioned a partner, so I’d assumed he was single.
‘Abi is away at the moment. It won’t be a problem,’ was Liam’s terse reply.
Oh my god. Did Liam have a partner? Surely not. I’d lived with Liam for a week, sharing trips back to the house. I would have noticed, even from the annexe, right? Sometimes, I’d sneak a look while Liam cooked, ducking down if he glanced out at the garden. And then I scrambled back to my armchair to play casual when I saw him walk into the garden with a plate covered with tin foil.
Liam brought me food every night. Macaroni cheese with a herby crust. Pan-fried salmon with a bulgar wheat salad. Roasted chicken with greens and sweet potato. I’d never eaten so well. Mum and Graham liked their food bland, saltless and on the table at six thirty on the dot. When I moved out, I ate whatever was in the fridge or stuck to Pot Noodles.
And I didn’t think he ever cooked extra for anyone else.
‘You know I don’t want to overstep.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘I just remember how it was last time you got involved –’
‘Jack. I’ve got it under control.’
The men dispersed, ending the conversation, but it was humming in my mind, a puzzle unsolved. I filed the interaction in my head for now and went to hunt for my phone.
By the end of the day, I was sweaty and bone-tired but happy. I collapsed in a starfish position in the middle of the bedroom. My hair was caked in dust. I could barely see anything through the goggles Liam had insisted I wear. It was even coming from my eyes and nose.
It was horrific, and I loved it.
As I headed downstairs, the house was a skeleton – all wooden floorboards and red-brick walls. Liam was standing in the middle of the back living room, where I wanted the kitchen-diner, with an older man with cropped grey hair.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked Jack, who was standing near me with his arms crossed. Freddie mimicked the stance next to him, making my lips turn up.
‘Structural engineer,’ Jack said. ‘He’s overseeing the RSJ.’
