Fix Them Up, page 7
‘I have a quick one. We need some help.’ Sandra scanned the room. Who was she looking for? Her face lit up when she spotted where I was sitting.
My stomach swooped.
No, she wasn’t – no.
‘Or I should say, my niece, Kat, needs some help.’ Sandra pointed, and my palms began to sweat as every single head swivelled towards me.
Chapter Eight
My face burned like a bushfire. Sandra announced my arrival at Everly Heath like I was the fucking queen on a tour of the UK. ‘My niece, Kat, has moved up here from London. She is renovating a house on Evanshore Road.’
‘Rose’s old place?’ someone shouted out.
‘Yes,’ Sandra said.
‘Didn’t Brian and Jim live there when they were little?’ another voice piped up.
‘Yes, they did,’ Sandra explained. ‘The house has sentimental value to the family, so Kat would like to renovate it. Then, it will be put on the market.’
‘She’s going to do it up and then sell it?’ a woman in her fifties asked.
‘Typical,’ someone mumbled.
All of those eyes shifted back to me, judgemental. Whispers broke out amongst the crowd.
Thank you, Auntie Sandra.
Now I was the gentrifying southerner, here to make a quick buck.
Liam chuckled beside me. ‘Try and win them back now.’
‘It’s her choice. It was her late father’s home,’ Sandra insisted, and some of the murmurs stopped. ‘She would like to bring the house back to life so that another family can build memories of their own.’
I spotted some nods and shrugs amongst the members. I didn’t love that Sandra mentioned Dad, but I supposed in a town this gossipy, it was only a matter of time before people put two and two together and realised I was Jim Williams’s daughter.
‘So, I would like to ask anyone – tradesmen or women for help. She’s looking for a builder. And before you lot start’ – Sandra glanced at Liam – ‘the Hunters are busy with their lot. They can’t spare any work.’
So, Sandra must have had a word with Liam. How had she done that so quickly? God, between Pat and Sandra, I wouldn’t want to mess with the women of Everly Heath. They worked quickly.
Sandra continued, ‘I thought I’d bring it to the club and see if anyone knew of any trustworthy tradesmen –’
‘I might be able to spare some time,’ a ginger man piped up. He glanced behind, greeting me with a warm smile, and hope bloomed in my chest. ‘I can come over tomorrow –’
I felt a movement and then a tall shadow loomed over me.
‘I’ll do it,’ Liam’s voice called out, resolute.
Sandra’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh. Are you sure, Liam? I thought –’
‘I said I’ll do it.’
I stood up, looking at Liam. ‘What are you doing?’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘I’m solving your problem, Red.’
‘I didn’t ask you to.’
‘Hm, that’s funny. Because about half an hour ago, you were begging me –’
‘I didn’t beg.’
Or I hadn’t got around to it.
‘– and asking if I’d come and take another look.’
‘Yes, but –’ I faltered. Why was I disagreeing? Wasn’t this what I wanted?
‘There might be someone more suitable here.’ I gestured to the crowd watching our interaction with wide-eyed fascination.
Liam crossed his arms, and his biceps rippled – actually rippled like something from a cartoon. It was ridiculous.
‘There isn’t. Trust me. It’s better that I say yes than you being bartered in front of every idiot with a hammer. It could take us all night.’ Liam shifted his attention back to Sandra. ‘I’ll sort it. I’d end up having to fix whatever these lot cock-up anyway.’
‘You know some of us are professionals, Hunter,’ said the ginger man who had offered to come around tomorrow.
‘Jason, I wouldn’t wish your tiling on my worst enemy.’
Jason shot up in his seat, going beet red as laughter trickled out amongst the crowd.
‘Jason.’ Sandra’s sharp tone had Jason sitting back down. She turned to Liam. ‘Lovely, Liam, thank you.’
‘Oh, you’ve done it now, Hunter,’ Lydia muttered under her breath.
‘It’s fine. I can handle it.’
‘If you say so,’ Lydia said in a sing-song voice.
Liam sat down, his face forward, and all I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded.
‘Close your mouth. You look like a goldfish.’ He turned and looked at me, a glimmer of something in his eyes. A challenge? Entertainment, perhaps? I wasn’t sure.
‘Why –’ I sputtered. ‘You clearly hate me –’
Liam’s eyes closed briefly. ‘I don’t hate you.’
‘Okay, you dislike me. Semantics. Why would you help –’
In a hushed tone, Liam said, ‘You might not know your family very well, but they are good people. The best people. Your aunt is like a mum to me. I owe her. So I will help you out.’
Liam sat back, watching the next item on the agenda in the meeting. I wanted to ask more, but here wasn’t the place. Not when so many members seemed to be eyeing us up curiously.
It was when Sandra called the meeting to a close that the onslaught began – it was like every single member of the Everly Heath community lined up in front of Liam. Liam sighed and got up to talk to the first lady, a woman in her mid-sixties. She had a wide, feline smile on her face.
I turned to Lydia. ‘What is going on?’
‘Liam just opened the floodgates. He’s been putting in major boundaries since he took over from his dad. Kevin used to do a lot of favours for people – he was the first to bend over backwards for people. Liam put a stop to it. Well –’ She glanced down at me. ‘Until you, apparently.’
My cheeks burned, and unanswered questions rang through my head. What had changed his mind?
I sat and waited for Liam to finish speaking to people. I wanted to speak to him. I wanted to know where I stood when it came to the house and the next steps. Liam was speaking to the fifth person – a young lad who couldn’t be eighteen – when I decided to get a pint while I waited for him. When I came back, he was gone.
‘He managed to escape,’ Lydia explained when I looked confused, holding my pint of Guinness and a Coke Zero for Liam – his usual order, according to Sandra. I tried to hide the way I deflated.
Later, I piled into an Uber. After another drink or two with Lydia and Jack, things were too hazy, and I was too lazy to walk. Plus, I used the excuse of the persistent drizzle that had sprinkled down all evening, glossing the roads and the trees like the Lancôme juicy tubes I had coveted as a kid.
I spotted something new attached to my door when I got to the house. A new shiny silver lock was neatly screwed into the wood. While the door was knackered, the new lock shone in the porch light.
A key was Sellotaped to the frame, with a note which read:
No more strange men “committing domestic burglary”.
I’ll be in touch.
-L
Chapter Nine
Kat’s To-Do List
Find the old to-do list
Thank-you card for Liam? Is that weird?
Call Liam Wait for Liam to text
I hated waiting. I’d always hated waiting. As a kid, it was the queue at the ice-cream van. As a teenager, it had been waiting for the DVD release of my favourite films so I could rewatch them again and again. As an adult, it was waiting for the latest season of Grey’s Anatomy to come onto Prime Video, even when I promised myself not to watch yet another season. Impatience should be my middle name instead of Jane.
So, it wasn’t surprising that I spent the days after the social club with shaking legs, praying for Liam’s text to come through. But he took his sweet time, and I was sure he was doing it on purpose to torture me. It was only Liam being evasive. After Sandra’s social club announcement, I’d had numerous visits from locals.
The day after the social club, Davide and John knocked. They were a gay couple with matching bright white teeth. They brought over homemade pastel de natal and asked about the renovation progress. I showed them around the house, and they ummed and ahhed over my plans.
Davide patted my arm maternally. ‘We were doing up our Victorian house last year. I had to do all the design myself. It was a nightmare. I’d never had so much – what did you call it, darling?’
‘Decision paralysis,’ John chirped up.
‘Yes. Decision paralysis. An interior designer is like gold dust around here; we don’t have anyone local.’ He leaned in. ‘And some of the Cheshire ones are a bit Real Housewives, if you catch my drift,’ he added with a wink.
‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ John said, the more strait-laced of the two. ‘Pat said Kat is a designer.’
‘Oh,’ Davide said, his palms coming to his cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry –’
‘No, no.’ I laughed. ‘I’m a graphic designer, not an interior designer.’
Davide waved his hand. ‘You will have a natural eye for these things.’
On the second day, I was mid-shower when the doorbell rang again. Rita and Jamal were an older couple. Jamal was shorter with a receding hairline and Rita had perfectly quaffed greying hair and a cashmere jumper.
Coastal grandma jumped to mind.
‘We’re number twenty-six. Next door to Pat and Steve.’ Rita smiled. ‘Pat suggested you might need some food, with the state of the kitchen, so we brought you this –’ She handed me a foil-covered dish. ‘It’s cottage pie. It’s still warm if you want to eat it now –’
‘Or we have a microwave if you ever need to use it,’ Jamal said with a crooked smile.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, genuinely overwhelmed by the gesture. ‘Wow – I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I really appreciate it.’
‘It’s no problem.’ Rita smiled, patting my arm. ‘It’s what neighbours do.’
On the third day, my phone finally buzzed with a random number, and my heart lurched. Liam. It had to be Liam, finally.
‘Hello?’ I answered tentatively.
‘Oh, Kat. Thank god.’ Auntie Sandra sounded out of breath, and I felt sufficiently guilty about my disappointment. ‘Lydia gave me your number; I hope you don’t mind. I wondered if I could ask for a favour. We’re hosting an event at the club this afternoon. Afternoon tea for some elderly folks from the community. We asked for volunteers, but no one signed up. We paid it no mind ’cos Pat and I can cope ourselves, but she’s got a cold’ – my auntie inhaled to continue – ‘and given everyone is a bit older, she doesn’t want to spread it. Do you think you might be able to help? I wouldn’t usually ask, but—’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, you’re a lifesaver.’ Sandra sighed. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll be there in twenty,’ I agreed, and we hung up, feeling warm and fuzzy that I’d been able to help.
As I walked through the club door twenty minutes later, the club had been transformed into a function room. Sandra was throwing ivory tablecloths onto six large round tables. Several bouquets of flowers sat in ornate vases. The usual heavy wooden chairs were replaced with elegant limewash Chiavari chairs.
‘Thank you for coming in so last minute.’ Sandra squeezed me into a hug. She wore a dress with vibrant pink and orange peonies. Meanwhile, I wore jeans and a stripy T-shirt paired with beat-up trainers.
I ran my hand through my hair, unruly as ever. ‘Was there a dress code?’
‘No, no. Don’t be silly,’ Sandra said. ‘Pat and I like to make an effort because the old dears do. It’s not compulsory. I need you back of the house anyway.’
‘Auntie! You shove me in the back because I didn’t come dressed in my Sunday best?’
Sandra rolled her eyes indulgently. ‘I see Lydia is rubbing off on you already.’
I helped Sandra set up the tables, copying her formation. After the first table, we got into a steady rhythm, and by the end, the tables looked beautiful. The ivory tablecloths complemented the pink, yellow, and green of the bouquets in the centre of the tables.
‘The flowers are beautiful,’ I remarked.
Sandra nodded. ‘Rebecca, the local florist. She donates them every month. Lovely girl.’
‘She is talented.’
‘She is indeed.’ Sandra turned to me. ‘Kat, do you think you could get some extra napkins from the back, please?’
‘Of course.’ I’d not been in the back yet, but I guessed it was the room behind the bar that Sandra dipped in and out of. I headed around the bar and through the doors and stopped in my tracks.
I almost did a double-take when I saw Liam dressed in chef whites. He was cramped in the small kitchen, his focus on the tiny cucumber sandwiches he was placing on tiered ceramic stands. He glanced up as I walked in, and his eyes flickered across me. Lingering in places, he lingered all over me – my legs, my breasts, up to my neck, and finally, my face. For a moment, I wondered if he was checking me out, but his resting bitch face slotted into place quickly, ridding me of the absurd thought.
‘Kat.’ Liam nodded.
‘Liam,’ I repeated in the same tone.
Liam returned to assembling sandwiches. ‘Sandra roped you in, did she?’
‘What are you doing?’ I blurted out.
‘I’m skydiving. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making sandwiches. They get here in half an hour, and I’m behind.’
‘I presumed they’d just buy them in. From a caterer or something.’
‘No.’ Liam wrinkled his nose like someone else making sandwiches was out of the question.
‘You come in every month and prepare tiny sandwiches for elderly people. By hand. In this tiny kitchen.’
‘They are just sandwiches.’
‘Why?’
Liam’s dark eyes lifted from the sandwiches, and he gave me a look. I wasn’t sure what the look was trying to convey, but it sent a weird feeling up my spine.
‘I have a heart, Red.’ Liam sighed. ‘They might not remember today, but they’ll have had a good time. We play some music, and they sing along. They never forget the words, even now. And the care home appreciates it. There isn’t loads for people with dementia to do, to get out and about. Funding cuts.’
I opened my mouth and closed it again. Liam looked up again at the expression I couldn’t keep off my face.
‘If you’re going to stand there, gawping, you can help. Chop this.’ Liam held out a cucumber, and I could feel a blush creep up my skin. There was something about the way his hand was gripped – nope. Not going there. Abort, abort.
I cleared my throat. ‘Sandra said something about napkins.’
‘She can wait.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Okay.’
I washed my hands and stood beside him. Our hips accidentally brushed, and I pulled back like lightning struck me.
‘No, not lengthways.’
Liam’s body came around me. I felt the heat of it first, then the warmth of his hand coming over mine.
‘Thin, round slices like this.’ He guided my hand, his hand dwarfing mine. Liam was gentle, and I stared as the knife cut through in smooth, measured slices. Liam’s breath was at my neck, and I suppressed a shiver.
‘There you go,’ Liam murmured, his voice low. He stood back, going back to his station, and we stood side by side again. I was annoyed with myself that I had liked his body near mine – stupid, stupid body.
‘Thanks,’ I said hoarsely.
Then, I realised I’d let a man show me how to cut a fucking cucumber like I wasn’t capable of doing it myself. I’d been hypnotised by his body and the warmth rolling off it.
‘About the house –’ I blurted out.
Liam cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my sentence.
‘Are you still going to help? I didn’t hear from you.’
‘Have you been waiting by the phone, Red?’
I could feel my face burn. ‘No.’
Liam’s lips twitched. ‘I’m moving some stuff around. Give me some time.’
‘It’s time-sensitive –’
‘I’ll get it sorted on your schedule. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I –’ I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. ‘How can you be so casual? We need to set a timeline. Some parameters –’
‘I do this every day, remember. It’s no stress.’
We chopped in silence as my mind whirled. I’d been taught that everything needed a plan, even if I screwed it up. Liam seemed way too cavalier about this.
‘Where do you live in London?’ Liam’s voice made me jump out of my busy thoughts.
‘Oh. I share a flat with some people near Camden. But I gave my notice when I moved up here. I miss the location, but living with six people was getting old.’
Liam’s eyes bugged. ‘Six people?’
I shrugged. ‘Not that surprising in London.’
‘I think I’d end up killing someone.’
I chuckled. ‘I’ve been close. Especially when one housemate kept eating my leftovers.’
Liam whistled. ‘Cheeky.’
‘I know, right? Leftover pizza is sacred.’
‘It’s breakfast.’
I grinned. ‘Exactly.’
Liam and I smiled, and then I glanced away, refocusing on the task at hand.
‘I’m moving back. I’ll end up buying somewhere further out. I will miss Camden.’
‘Overrated,’ Liam grumbled.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘London is overrated?’
Liam grunted, and it made me laugh.
‘What’s your beef with London?’
‘Everyone’s miserable.’
I snorted. Oh, the irony.
Liam continued, ‘And rude. It’s overpopulated and overpriced. Too many Prets and not enough good pubs.’ He arched an eyebrow at me. ‘I’m sure you noticed the Guinness is shite.’
‘Well, yes,’ I said. I’d had plenty of foamy, expensive pints of Guinness in packed pubs, standing next to finance bros in their quarter zips. ‘But it’s a great city. Sure, there are downsides, but there’s always something exciting to do. Somewhere amazing to eat. Great theatres and art galleries.’ I sighed. ‘I love the galleries.’
