Читать книгу Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage - Linn Halton B. - Страница 11

‘Everything alright, my son?’ Dad’s voice booms down the line. Mrs James let me know he’d called in shortly after I left to run my errand.

‘Yep. You know what kids are like; Anita had run out of medicine and was worried Joe was getting an ear infection. He was fine when I saw him, briefly. I wasn’t invited inside.’

Dad makes a sound like ‘harrumph’.

‘Just do what you can, when you can, Luke. The little dude might not be aware of it yet, but he’s lucky to have a dad who cares so much.’

It matters to me that my dad thinks that, although I’ve failed to give Joe the stable family unit he deserves. Maybe if I’d made the effort to take Anita out more, rather than assuming she was happy enough with a life that centred around just the three of us, we’d have stayed together. I thought that was what we both wanted, and I sure got that wrong!

‘Thanks. Is Ma there?’

I hear him call out, ‘Sally, it’s your favourite son on the phone.’

A few seconds later Mum picks up the receiver.

‘Only because he’s my only son,’ she comments, laughing. ‘How are you, Luke – and Joe?’

‘I’m fine, really. I just wanted you to know that there’s no panic. Just Anita doing the usual; maybe Joe has been a little off-colour, but she wanted to remind me that she’s the one who takes the brunt. It was just a trip to the chemist, that’s all. I knew you’d be worried. He was running around in the background and seemed fine.’

‘She didn’t let you talk to him, then?’

The disappointment in her voice is a killer. She simply can’t understand Anita’s actions and she hates to think of the hurt it’s causing me.

‘I’ll have him on Saturday, as usual. He was fine, that’s all that matters.’

‘Yes, that’s the main thing. And you are okay?’

‘Yes, Ma. I’m doing fine and loving my work.’

I can almost see the smile on her face.

‘You’re a good son and one day you’ll find someone very special.’

If only Anita had thought I was a good husband, then life would be sweet. Instead, it’s a mess and I feel like a failure. I’ve given my parents a grandchild, but one they can only see briefly every Saturday afternoon.

***

The replacement slates for Bay Tree Cottage don’t arrive until late morning. Fortunately, it’s a dry, bright day and even the sun is putting in an appearance. I can only hope this weather continues into next week, as I can’t start work on the repointing if there’s any sign of a frost. It’s a job I’d normally look to postpone until early spring, but like Hillside View, it’s a job that has to be done sooner rather than later. One really strong gust of wind could do a lot of damage and the debris falling from a roof could potentially kill someone.

The bonus of working up here is that it’s quiet for the most part. The drone of traffic is hardly noticeable in the distance, and the odd car driving down the hill is merely a reminder of the existence of other people. It’s certainly a great place to live. It’s just a pity for Elana that the inside still needs quite a lot of work to finish it off.

As I climb down the scaffolding, more than ready to demolish my packed lunch, the postman is at the door of Hillside View and Eve looks up.

‘Luke, I have a cheque here for you. Step inside while I go and find it.’

I loiter inside the porch, making sure I don’t step off the coir matting. My boots are mostly clean, but the light-cream carpet beyond it isn’t exactly practical. I guess when you have money that’s not a major consideration.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Luke. Here you go. Please tell Matthew that we’re thrilled with the work and ask if he can confirm when exactly in January he’s able to make a start on the new conservatory.’

‘No problem, and it’s nice to get feedback. And thanks, too, for your recommendation to next door.’

‘Oh, Elana. Yes, an unfortunate expense for her, I’m afraid, but in another way she’s relieved to think it will all be fixed very soon.’

I turn to go, then hesitate.

‘Um … just so I don’t put my foot in it, or anything. Do you mind if I ask when her husband died? I heard her daughter talking about it.’

‘About sixteen months ago in a tragic accident. A tyre blowout on the motorway. It’s considerate of you to ask. So easy to assume a husband is around and she’s very fragile still, naturally.’

I nod my thanks, holding up the cheque in acknowledgement and head off to the van.

It’s a bit chilly, but with the radio playing in the background I’m happy enough sitting here eating my sandwiches and looking out over the extensive views. If only I could stop my mind wandering and wondering ‘what if’. If Anita wasn’t so bitter, if I’d realised how trapped she’d end up feeling—

A movement in front of me makes me jerk my head up and I see Elana parking her car up by the garage. As she walks down the path it would be rude not to wave. She smiles and when she draws alongside the van I wind the window down, because she appears to be slowing her pace.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, Luke. When you’ve finished do you think you could pop in and take a look at something?’

‘Will do, Mrs James – I mean, Elana. I’ll be in shortly.’

Even when she smiles there’s that little hint of sadness in those green eyes of hers. Something that she probably isn’t even aware is there, or maybe it takes one to know one. People who have sadness in their lives often carry it inside, unseen, but the eyes are the windows of the soul. When a hurt runs deep there’s no getting away from it. I wonder if that’s what people see when they look at me – the disappointment and sense of failure I feel.

I straighten my back and stretch out my arms, my muscles beginning to ache a little from sitting in a cramped space. I can’t wait to get to the gym tonight and have a really good workout. Then it’s a takeaway pizza and a little software program to test out. One of these days, hopefully, I’ll have something to sell that will take away all of my money worries. Until then, though, it’s back to the job in hand.

As I walk up to the front door of Bay Tree Cottage, Elana is looking out for me and immediately opens the door.

‘Thanks, Luke. Much appreciated. The problem is in the utility room, this way. Don’t bother about your boots, it’s hardly pristine in here.’

She sounds accepting of the situation and I feel for her, now I understand the position she’s in. She appears to be quite a proud lady and it must hurt, being alone with a child and living in something that is only partially completed.

I follow her into the narrow utility room and she pulls open the doors to the sink unit, exposing a large bucket half-full of water. A constant drip that is running quite fast is like a low drumbeat.

‘How long’s it been leaking?’

I look across at her and she grimaces.

“A while. I have to empty the bucket several times a day. And it’s getting worse.’

A quick glance isn’t enough to discover what’s causing the leak, although it’s sufficient to establish that this probably wasn’t done by the best plumber in the world. If her husband did it I have to be careful. In fairness, it’s not a really bad job, but there’s a lot of pipe work running off to service the washing machine and dishwasher. I would have configured it differently, flush against the back wall so that if there was a problem everything was easier to access. Quite simply, this is a pig of a job, because it’s going to be difficult to get a wrench in there to tighten up whichever joint is leaking.

‘It’s not a problem. I’ll go and grab some tools.’

She lets out a sharp breath, clearly relieved it’s something I can fix.

‘I was rather worried you’d say it was a major problem. I’m afraid the plumber we used wasn’t the best. My husband wasn’t here when the work was done and when he saw it he thought it was a bit of a mess.’

I smile and shrug, but she looks back at me rather flustered. I’m not sure she meant to share that, so I make a quick exit and when I return she’s nowhere in sight. I throw a dust sheet on the floor and open the doors wide, then take out the shelf. Lying down on my back I ease myself into the cabinet and stare up at the maze of pipes. Isn’t it always the way that the leak comes from the top? It’s the cold tap that’s leaking; the drip is almost constant. I can just about get my hand up between the pipes and get the wrench in place, but when it bites I can only twist it about a millimetre at a time. Even then, nothing seems to be happening. Then it dawns upon me that whoever installed this probably cross-threaded it when they tightened it up. Every time I move it slightly, it’s just going around the same thread. Nothing I do seems to stem the dribble of water. I hear a cough and as I begin easing myself back out, I find myself looking up at Elana.

‘It’s not going to be an easy fix, is it?’

I guess she can tell from the look on my face.

‘Hey, it’s not as bad as that. Someone has over-tightened the nut at some point and it looks like the tap itself is crossed-threaded. That means when I try to do it up it’s not making any difference.’

‘There’s an “and”, isn’t there?’

I nod.

‘And that means a new tap. The problem with the layout underneath there is that the taps were put in first. All the extra pipe work was installed without any thought to accessing the taps. In all honesty I’m better off doing a quick re-design so that it’s easier for the future. If I try to replace the tap as it is now, it will probably take me longer than sorting it out once and for all.’

She nods. ‘Okay. Thanks. No point in cutting corners. To be honest, I’m getting a little sick of the word leak. Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost?’

‘It’s a couple of hours’ work and a tap, that’s all. It won’t be a lot. As I’m here working anyway, it will just be a small add-on.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate that. Can I make you a drink?’

‘That’s very kind, but I’ll pop off now to pick up a replacement tap. I have everything else I need in the van. It going to take me a couple of hours, tops.’

‘Sorry to have pulled you away from the roof. Oh, there’s my phone – I’ll leave you to it. I’ll make a cuppa when you get back. And thanks for not making a drama out of my little crisis.’ She gives me a warm smile and the little furrow in her forehead disappears for a second or two.

***

Elana opens the door and I step inside, slipping off my boots.

‘You know, there’s really no need. It’s not as if the floor is clean, the concrete constantly throws up a white dust and I’ve given up on it.’

‘It’s a habit – we like to respect our customers’ homes. I’m going to have to turn off the water for a while, so if you need to run a tap for anything let me know when you’re done.’

‘The kettle is full, so no problem. It’s only me here during the day when Maya is at school, so you aren’t disrupting anything. One sugar, white – right?’

‘Thanks. I’ll make a start, then.’

As Elana disappears into the kitchen, I head off to the utility room. Walking past the computer in the corner of the dining room, I can’t help but notice the photo of a rather good-looking guy on the screen. It must be so hard to lose the person you love, just like that; having to juggle not only your own emotions, but those of a child, too. It makes me think of the Santa thing and her daughter. It’s not something I can bring up, but I sincerely hope she’s aware of what’s going on inside that little girl’s head.

Anyway, it’s none of my business and now I have a mess of pipes to hack about, so I can start again and do the job as it should have been done in the first place. Shoddy workmanship just annoys the heck out of me.