Saving Baby Amy

‘The builders have it all in hand. But I suppose I should pop in later, just to see what they’ve been up to...’ He paused for a moment and then put the paper down. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy coming with me? It’s a mess at the moment, but I like to think it’s got potential.’

‘Bit like this place, then.’ Chloe stared up at the sitting-room ceiling, wondering how many times she’d lain on the sofa, tracing the cracks with her gaze. Looking at the crystals on the mantelpiece instead had been an exercise in ignoring what she couldn’t change and concentrating on something a bit prettier.

He chuckled. ‘It’s nothing like your place. Mine’s really a mess. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this house that a bit of filler and a couple of cans of paint wouldn’t remedy.’

Chloe quirked her lips downwards. ‘That’s what I reckoned when I moved in, over three years ago.’

‘And instead you gave your sister a home and then battled a debilitating illness. I think you can be forgiven for overlooking a few cracks in the ceiling.’

And Jon knew how to forgive. He seemed to do it with everyone, apart perhaps from himself. ‘Okay, then, I’ll come. Maybe it’ll give me a few ideas on what to do when I get a chance to get started here.’

* * *

Jon’s house was the only one in a street of neat, suburban houses that looked ramshackle, the paint flaking off the downstairs window frames. The garden in the front looked as if it had been recently cleared, a few tree stumps sticking out of the sun-baked clay soil and an uneven pile of stones that must have once been crazy paving.

‘Watch out. Don’t step into any holes.’ He grinned at her, taking Amy from her car seat and hoisting her up into his arms, where she couldn’t get into any mischief.

Only the newly painted front door gave some clue that the house could be a lot more than it was now. Jon opened it, and when Chloe walked into the hall it was dark and dingy, no wallpaper, no carpets. But it had possibilities. The decorative newel post and the stair bannisters had been stripped down, and once a coat of paint was applied it would bring out the rippling shape of the turned wood.

‘This is wonderful.’ She turned, running her hand across the sitting-room door. It was caked with so many layers of paint that the mouldings had practically disappeared, but it still had an original stained-glass panel, along with what looked like a decorative cast-iron backplate for the door handle.

Jon chuckled. ‘Not many people say that. But when it’s all done, I think it’ll look okay.’

It would look great. It all needed a bit of care and attention, and about a gallon of paint stripper, but Chloe could imagine the house, rising phoenix-like from the dust and the years of neglect. ‘You have most of the original features still.’ She looked up at the ceiling and saw moulded cornices and plasterwork.

‘Yeah. The place belonged to an old guy who’d lived here all his life. He was a hoarder, and it was in a pretty bad state but relatively untouched. You couldn’t get past the piles of newspaper to decorate.’

‘But you saw something in it.’

‘It looked like a challenge. As we cleared everything, we came across some lovely old features. And a few nightmares. All the kitchen floorboards had been soaked through and were rotten. It’s a miracle someone didn’t fall through them. And the wiring was completely shot—the electrician took one look at it and condemned it as unsafe.’

Despite his less-than-enthusiastic comments, Jon obviously loved this house. Who wouldn’t? A chance to give an undiscovered gem a new lease of life.

‘It’ll be lovely when it’s finished, though.’

He grinned. ‘That’s what I’m hoping. Careful through here, the floorboards have been taken up to run the cabling.’

Jon led the way through to the kitchen, which had obviously taken priority over the decoration of the hallway. Almost finished, it was bright and gleaming, with honey-coloured wooden cabinets and black quartz-effect worktops, which sparkled subtly when the light hit them.

Spotlights were sunk flush with the ceiling. Bright chrome taps and a built-in hob and oven with chrome trimmings. Grey slate on the floor. Chloe gasped.

‘Jon... This is gorgeous.’

‘Like it?’

‘I’d kill for a kitchen like this.’ The kitchen units ran along two sides of the large room, and cardboard boxes were stacked neatly along the third. ‘What’s going in here?’

‘I was going to carry the units and worktop on round, but now I’ve seen it I’m thinking that that’s more cupboards than I could possibly use. I quite like the idea of having a table and chairs here instead, the way you have in your kitchen. I think it would make the room warmer.’

Chloe nodded. ‘It is handy having the table, and the room’s plenty big enough. And it could do with a break to all those clean lines.’

Jon chuckled. ‘All I need is Dalek biscuits and a few crystals. That’ll take the gleam off it.’

‘I’ll send Amy round with the biscuits. You need to get your own crystals.’

She walked to the back door, looking out on the weeds and overgrown shrubs. Then they picked their way past the lifted floorboards in the hall and up the stairs to the front bedroom.

Another one of those breath-catching, I-wish-I-lived-here moments. Jon had obviously decided to decorate one room at a time, and this room had fresh paint on the walls and woodwork. There was a cast-iron fireplace, which had been stripped and polished up so that the pattern of twisting stems and flowers shone. A curved bay window, with stained glass in the lights at the top, looked out onto the quiet street. This would be a lovely place to wake up in the morning, dappled colour shining across the polished oak floor.