4
All Mod Cons
“Do you think it’s a skeleton?”
“What?” Bryony frowned at Edwin.
“Do you think there’s a skeleton behind the wall? It’s just the sort of house to have a skeleton bricked up somewhere.”
Bryony wanted to tell Edwin not to be so dumb, but she couldn’t help feeling he might be right.
“Come on kids,” called Bill. “Come and see the kitchen!”
Putting thoughts of entombed skeletons from her mind, Bryony left the lounge with Edwin, and followed the sound of Bill’s voice through another gloomy passage into yet another gloomy room.
The kitchen didn’t look like a kitchen at all. There was an old china sink, but no wall-mounted storage units, no working surface, and nothing at all in the way of modern appliances. Mind you, reflected Bryony, there was no point having a fridge or cooker if you didn’t have any gas or electricity.
“Don’t worry,” said Bill. “I’ll install a nice fitted kitchen.”
“This time,” sighed Bryony, “make sure it actually fits.”
She recalled one of her father’s previous attempts at home improvements. He’d put all the cupboard doors on back to front, and somehow rigged up the electric oven so it was cooler than the fridge (and vice versa). Mum had gone loopy, and they’d had to get professionals in to rip everything out and start again.
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” crooned Jane, giving her husband’s arm an encouraging pat. “But what about the bathroom?”
“Right here.” Bill strode to a door at the end of the room.
“A downstairs bathroom?” Bryony was horrified at the idea.
“Of course,” said Bill, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Old houses didn’t have bathrooms put in until quite recently. And there wasn’t room upstairs.”
“But a bathroom… downstairs?” Bryony shook her head slowly. Mum (her real Mum, obviously) would have gone crazy at the thought. It was so downmarket; even worse than having a shared driveway.
Bill smiled and opened the door, beckoning Bryony to take a look inside.
She did so, and suddenly the fact that the bathroom was on the ground floor didn’t seem to matter at all. It would have been just as revolting wherever it was.
The cracked tiled floor was peppered with mould. The toilet resembled some archaic instrument of torture, with a wooden seat that looked like it would give you splinters. Above, mounted crookedly on the wall, was a large box-like tank (which Bill called a cistern) from which dangled a rusty chain that looked like it would snap if you dared pull it.
The rest of the ‘suite’ wasn’t much better: the sink had grass growing in it, and the ancient cast iron bath looked an ideal breeding-ground for newts.
“See,” said Bill. “All mod cons.”
“Hold up.” Bryony grabbed Bill’s arm as he turned away. “There is no way in a million years I am using that bathroom.”
“Of course not,” agreed Bill. “I’ve organised alternative sanitary arrangements until such time as the bathroom facilities are operational.”
“Such as?”
Bill grinned. “A bucket.”
“Bucket?” Bryony could scarcely bring herself to repeat the word.
“Don’t worry,” said Bill. “I’m not expecting us to share one bucket between us. I’ve got a spare one in case of emergencies.”
Bryony gritted her teeth and glared at Bill. “There’s going to be an emergency very soon. And it’ll need more than a bucket to clean up the mess when I’ve finished with you.”
“Come now Bryony,” said Jane. “There’s no need to get angry with your father. Could we take a look upstairs please, Bill?”
The stairs were hardly worthy of the name. Winding, steep and narrow, the wooden steps groaned noisily underfoot, and felt as though they would collapse second. A rope fixed to the wall served as a banister, but it was so dirty that Bryony would rather not touch it, so she gripped Bill’s sleeve as they scaled the decaying edifice.
It seemed to take ages to reach the landing. This was yet another gloomy passage, with a floor so wonky that it impossible to walk in a straight line.
Bill reached the first door and opened it, revealing a large room with a big bay window.
“The master bedroom. Jane and I will be sleeping here.”
“Where’s my room?” demanded Bryony.
“We’re just coming to that.” Bill walked shakily down the landing until he reached the second door. “This one is yours. But…”
Bryony pushed past him, yanked the door open, and inspected her new bedroom.
At first, she was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t as big as her room in Mossy Glade Close, but it was light and airy, and didn’t smell half as bad as the rest of the house.
“Just mind the floorboards,” warned Bill, taking Bryony’s arm as she stepped forwards. “There’s a spot of woodworm. I’ll sort it first thing tomorrow. Along with the ceiling.”
Prompted by her father, Bryony glanced up at the ceiling. Or rather, the place where the ceiling should have been.
The plaster, and a sizeable portion of the roof, had crumbled away to reveal a patch of grey sky between the rotting rafters.
No wonder the room was so airy!
Aghast, Bryony was about to tell Bill what she thought of her new bedroom, when something whizzed past her left shoulder, its hoarse cry causing her to recoil with fright.
Crraaaa-aaawwwwkkkkk!
Bryony screamed and clung to her father, her wide eyes following the ragged black form as it settled on a sagging rafter.
Edwin laughed. “You look scared now, that’s for sure.”
“No I’m not,” insisted Bryony, trying to recover her composure. “This is my surprised look. Anyway, it’s just a silly crow.”
“It’s a jackdaw,” sniffed Edwin. “Can’t you tell the difference?”
“Takes one bird-brain to recognise another,” mumbled Bryony, before examining the bird.
It was an odd looking specimen, with tatty feathers and a bald patch on its head. Its eyes were tiny grey dots; tiny grey dots that returned Bryony’s stare with equal hostility.
“Shoo! Go away!” Bill hissed at the bird. The jackdaw spread its tatty wings, let out another croak, and disappeared through the hole in the roof.
“It’s gone now,” said Bill, as though somehow that made everything all right.
But as far as Bryony was concerned, everything was far from all right. About as far away from all right as you could possibly get.
“There is no way I’m sleeping here,” she huffed. “I’ll die of exposure.”
“You won’t have to sleep in there.” Bill led Bryony out of the room and back onto the wonky landing. “At least not until it’s ready. In the meantime you’ll be in there.” He pointed to the last door, which Jane had already opened. “With Edwin.”
“With Edwin?” The words cut through Bryony’s heart like a dagger.
“With me?” Edwin looked and sounded even more horrified. “Mum, tell him I can’t share a room with her!”
Jane inspected the room, and grimaced. “It’s not very big.”
“Not very big?” Bryony peered past Jane’s shoulder, and gawped with dismay at the tiny space beyond. “Our broom cupboard in Mossy Glade Close had more room. With brooms in it.”
“It’s only temporary,” said Bill. “Until I get your room sorted out.”
“And how long will that take?” demanded Edwin.
“Not long. Just a few rotten planks that need replacing.”
“There’s only one rotten plank around here,” seethed Bryony. “And that’s you, Dad.”
“Come now Bryony,” said Jane. “That’s no way to speak to your father.”
“I can speak to him how I want,” snapped Bryony. “And surely even you can see I’m right. We can’t live here; the whole place is falling to bits.”
Edwin nodded. “And there’s no electricity.”
Bill looked offended. “But I’m going to do it up. Think how it will look once it’s finished.”
“No need,” said Bryony. “I’d say it was pretty much finished already. Anyway Dad, what do you know about repairing old houses? You’re a vacuum cleaner salesman, not a builder.”
“An ex-vacuum cleaner salesman,” said Edwin.
Bryony saw her father flinch. He didn’t like being reminded that he was currently out of work. But this was no time to go soft on him.
“Well?” she asked, folding her arms and tilting her head sideways. “What have you got to say about that?”
Bill ran a hand through his hair, and then nodded. “OK, kids. You’ve had your say. Now it’s Jane’s turn. Darling, what do you think?”
All eyes turned to Jane.
“We’re waiting,” said Bryony.
Jane put a hand to her mouth. She looked like she was about to cry, and Bryony sincerely hoped that she would.
Please say you hate it. Please…
“I…” Jane looked at Bill. “I think it’s…”
Her lips quivered, and then creased into that all too familiar smile.
“Lovely. I think it’s lovely. The loveliest house in the entire world. And you are the loveliest man for finding it.”
She threw her arms around Bill and kissed him again.
“You mean we’re staying?” Bryony couldn’t believe it. “We’re actually going to live in this hovel?”
Bill finally put Jane down, and then put his arms around Edwin and Bryony. “You wait, kids. I’ll restore the cottage to its former glory. Then you’ll see what an amazing place Wychetts really is.”