Page 34 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
She laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. ‘It’s not like you to turn on the charm!’ she said.
‘I don’t. You know me, I only say what I think.’ And it was true, Kate looked like she’d always looked to him — a warm embrace always ready and eyes that were both beautiful and kind. The sort of mother he’d wished he’d had. ‘And you haven’t changed.’
Kate searched his face, her own expression becoming serious. ‘You’ve changed though.’
He grunted in amusement. ‘And not in a good way, I’m sure.’
‘Looks like you’ve experienced life, Sam. And that’s not always a bad thing. It changes people, knocks some of their edges off, if you like.’ Kate glanced behind him at Jen, and for a moment he wondered whether Kate was talking about him or Jen.
‘Who was that on the phone, Mum? When we came in just now,’ added Jen to answer her mother’s puzzled face.
‘Oh that! Only the school, wanting to know my street address. Although I don’t know why. They should know where I live by now. Bureaucracy! Anyway’ — Kate continued — ‘it’s very kind of you to come around and look at this pipe, Sam.’
‘Not at all. Happy to help.’
‘It’ll probably need something stronger than the garden tie I used.’ She glanced around. ‘I’ve made a pot of coffee if you’d like one?’
He glanced at the Italian caffettiera on the hotplate and grinned. ‘My favourite, thanks Kate.’
‘The least I could do for your kindness. Now,’ she said, ‘maybe Jen can — oh, she’s disappeared.’
Sam looked around to find Jen had, indeed, disappeared. He felt his smile drop a little, in line with his spirits.
Kate shot him a polite smile. ‘No doubt gone to help Liam. He’s upstairs exploring a box of old toys I found in a cupboard in the attic. It’s nothing if not a treasure trove, this house. Even if it’s a dilapidated treasure trove.’
‘Not for long,’ he said, hoping he’d be right. ‘I’ll sort it out for you.’
‘Just the downpipe would be good. Everything else can, well, wait. Now, let’s go outside and I’ll show you the damage while the coffee is percolating.’
He nodded in agreement and followed Kate through the French doors.
He gave a low whistle as he inspected the downpipe, which now lay rusting and useless on the grass. ‘That has definitely seen better days.’
‘Haven’t we all,’ muttered Kate, followed by a sigh.
He looked up at where it had joined the gutter and shook his head. It, too, was hanging precariously, with holes through which the rain would simply pour.
‘What do you reckon?’ asked Kate, her eyes following his along the gutter of the house and up to the chimney.
‘There’s a lot of work to be done here. More than a downpipe.’
Kate grimaced. ‘But surely if you could fix that back into place with some kind of bracket or something, it would hold?’
Her mixed expression of innocence and desperation got to him. He’d never wanted to agree with anyone more.
He shook his head. ‘Nowhere near enough. I’m sorry, Kate, but none of it looks good.’
She visibly paled. ‘None of it?’
He pointed up at the gutter. ‘That’s holding together by a wing and a prayer.’
‘Maybe it just needs nailing back in place?’ she said hesitantly.
‘Into what?’ He stepped forward and pressed his finger into the weatherboard below the hole in the gutter. It sank into the wood.
‘Oh,’ said Kate.
‘It’s rotten.’ He glanced around. ‘It doesn’t look like the weatherboards are rotten everywhere, but in places they are. And unless they’re replaced, the fittings won’t have anything solid to attach to.’
