Page 44 of The Secret House of Honey and Hope

“Why don’t I come with you.” Gabriel gets to his feet. “In case you have other useful tools.”

Yup, I’m involved.

Gabriel is friendly and takes a lot of interest in my own building project. “You don’t look like a builder.” he says, examining a cordless drill.

“No, but I learnt to fix things from a young age.”

He watches me as if expecting a further explanation. Normally I change the subject, but then I think, why the hell not, tell him.

“It started when I was fourteen. Our first rented home in Milton Keynes was barely habitable; our landlord never bothered to fix anything. So, we either chose to live with leaky pipes and doors that never shut properly, or we learnt to fix them ourselves. Very soon, I could do most DIY.”

“Sounds like a tough time.”

He might look like an arty type with a camera hanging from his shoulder, but he’s surprisingly sharp and the look he gives me is sympathetic.

“You said you wanted to see me about something?” I ask to change the subject.

“It’s Pierre’s thing, so I’ll let her tell you.”

I coil an electric lead which they might need next door in case the power socket is too far.

“What made you move away from the island?” Gabriel asks.

“You’re not from here, are you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed to ask.”

He has a thoughtful half-smile, but when he speaks it’s not to ask more questions.

“Both Pierre and I are not native islanders, but we love La Canette, it’s home, now.”

Home?

“Why?” I am genuinely curious. “Why would two young, seemingly artistic people,” I glance at the camera hanging over his shoulder. “Who should be in London, Barcelona, New York, Paris… Why settle in this tiny place?”

“Because… I don’t know, it just felt like home.”

That word again. Home.

“In what way?” I ask, collecting a hammer to deal with the loose nails I saw sticking out of Elodie’s floor.

“It’s hard to explain,” he says, giving me a quizzical look. “I’m a photographer and words aren’t my thing. All I can tell you is that it feels like the kind of place where everyone feels like a family. Like the way you are volunteering to help sand your neighbour’s floor. It just feels right.”

I hadn’t in fact volunteered anything of the sort, but after Gabriel says it, I can’t very well refuse. So, I stuff the tools into a bag, and we set off to the house next door.

Chapter Twenty

Elodie

“I think that’ll do,” Hal says a few hours later. We stand up, rub our aching knees, and look around. The floor is finally sanded. All the rough edges have been smoothed, and the guys have even hammered-in the few nails which had been sticking out, and fixed any broken or split floorboards. Pierre and I, using sandpaper, have done the tricky corners.

“What colour do you want it painted?” Pierre asks.

We’re already here, talking about colours. This is actually going to happen; I hug myself not daring to believe it. “Ideally, a pale floor to set off vivid accents later. Maybe a shade similar to those.” I point to the twelve stones that caused the argument with Hal.

Pierre goes to examine the paint pots which we’d piled outside the door. “I think I can mix some to create the shade you want. Colours and paint are something of a passion of mine.” She pulls at her rich-blue hair.

“Not being artistic.” Hal starts to unplug his power tools and winds up the electric cables. “I’d better get out of your way.”

It feels wrong to let him just leave without a proper thank you. We seem to have been dragged along into a cordial relationship for three hours, but it feels very temporary and I’m sure as soon as he leaves, we’ll be back to enemies. If I want to thank him now is the time.

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