The Good Sisters. Helen Phifer

bedrooms. Once they’d been painted white or grey instead of the dark, almost black oak they would be much brighter and look a lot better.

      ***

      Oliver and Kate cautiously made their way from room to room. The ground floor was pretty solid. There were a couple of holes in the floorboards in three of the rooms, but the other five were not too bad. The plaster was falling off some of the walls and the wiring wasn’t very good. Oliver didn’t think it would be a huge job to knock out walls and add en-suites to the bedrooms. Years ago, he’d owned a thriving building business which had refit offices, hotels and pubs, so this wasn’t going to be anything that he couldn’t do. The only reason he’d sold the business was because his wife Ellen had been diagnosed with motor neurone disease and he’d wanted to take care of her.

      He felt excited at the prospect of some real work, a proper project to get his teeth into. Martin Parker was an egotistical prick, but he’d come in handy and Oliver had needed something to do to keep his mind from dwelling on Ellen’s illness and her awful, drawn-out death. The odd jobs he’d done for him had kept him busy enough that it kept some normality in his life.

      ***

      It was much colder on the first floor than downstairs and Kate found herself wishing she’d worn her jeans and not a pair of cut-off shorts and a strappy vest top. It was dark and gloomy, and there were even more of those bloody crosses. She couldn’t wait to rip them all down. They came to the smaller staircase that led up to the second floor and attic. Oliver went first and she followed close behind.

      It was a little lighter up here because there were a couple of gaping holes in the roof. There were fewer rooms up here, but they were huge. This floor would be perfect for her to have a large en-suite bedroom and the girls could each have a large room. Not to mention their own living quarters if they decided that’s what they wanted – and if she could afford it after the work had been done on the rest of the house.

      There were some crumpled boxes shoved into one corner and she pushed one open with the tip of her torch. Inside were piles of old leather Bibles and psalm books. Whoever had lived here must have been a travelling Bible salesman. The thought made her smile. Either that or some kind of religious fanatic. She wondered what the previous owner would have made of a woman buying this house all on her own. She did the same with the next box, which had an old, wooden cigar box inside it. She pulled it out to take a closer look.

      Oliver was studying the holes in the roof and had dragged a wooden trunk over that he could stand on to get a better look. Kate opened the cigar box and smiled to see a thick, navy book with gold edges on the pages and the word ‘Diary’ stamped in gold on the front. She picked it up, wondering who it had belonged to and if whoever it was had loved this house the way that she did.

      Across the room, Oliver was making lots of ‘ah’ noises. She stood up and walked towards him. Halfway across the huge, open space she heard the sharp sound of scratching coming from one of the darkened corners and paused. Her heart began to race. Oh God. Mice, she didn’t mind, but that sounded loud. Too loud to be a mouse. She’d die if the house came with resident rats.

      She waited and listened to see if it happened again. Relieved that it didn’t, she put it down to a bird or maybe one of those nuisance grey squirrels that everyone kept saying were vermin, but that she found cute. She could cope with mice, birds and even squirrels. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge that bigger things with long tails and sharp teeth could be behind the noise. That way it wouldn’t be true, would it? She reached Oliver and shone her torch at the gaping hole, not really understanding what he found so fascinating about it.

      ‘So here’s the big question: what do I need to have fixed first and would you be willing to come and work for me full-time?’

      He stepped down off the trunk. ‘The roof. You need to make the building waterproof before you even think about doing anything else in here. As keen as you are to get started, if we don’t seal these holes you might as well take your money and throw it on a bonfire.’

      ‘Can you do it for me, or if not do you know someone who could?’

      ‘I can do it. I’ve got a few jobs on for Martin, but they’re only small so I can make a start. I know a couple of lads who’ll labour for cash, but this isn’t going to be cheap, Kate.’

      ‘I know, don’t worry. I have the money. I’ll pay you a lump sum up front and the rest on completion. Can you draw me up some plans or do I need an architect?’

      ‘It’s up to you. I know a very good architect if you’d like me to give him a ring and get him to come out for a site visit. I can’t really give you a proper price until it’s all been taken into consideration.’

      They made their way back downstairs and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She didn’t like the attic as much as the rest of the house. Even though it was open in places it felt as if the air was much heavier up there. She was sure once the roof had been fixed and there was working electricity it wouldn’t feel so dark and oppressive. Back on the ground floor she returned to the large room, which was off the huge room she assumed had been the lounge. It was in pretty good condition. The windows in here weren’t broken and the floor had no holes in it.

      ‘Please can you take these boards off for me now? I want to see what this room looks like in the daytime. I might have to set up camp in here until there’s a room upstairs ready.’

      ‘Kate, are you being serious? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you really can’t live here, in this house, with it in this condition.’

      ‘Yes, I am – and why can’t I? As far as I can see it only needs a couple of new windows, doors, electrics and the roof fixed. It looks structurally sound. You said so yourself. The rest is all cosmetic work.’

      ‘I did, but it’s a wreck. It hasn’t been lived in for how long? There’s no heating or hot water. How will you manage?’

      ‘I have a bed, sofa, camping stove and a cool box. I’ll be fine; I might look like a complete wuss, but I can assure you that I’m not. I’m not saying I’ll like it, but I’m desperate to get started and I can’t stop in that flat another day. If I check into some hotel while I’m waiting for a room to be ready I’m wasting money, far too much money. I can be clearing up whilst I’m here and getting on with jobs that aren’t too difficult.’

      ‘You’re braver than I am. I like my home comforts too much.’

      ‘Yes, well, so did I, but since Martin decided to take away everything I had, I’ve sort of got used to doing without. Except for the wine – I can’t do without that. My life wouldn’t be worth living if I couldn’t have a glass or two to numb the pain.’

      She started to laugh and he joined in, only they both knew that she meant it. Although she would never admit it to anyone, Kate knew she was an alcoholic. It had all stemmed from her teenage years of drinking every weekend down the park with her friends, then when she was old enough, nights out in the pub. It got even worse after her miserable marriage to Martin, when he would tell her he was working late and she knew he was out wining and dining his latest conquest.

      Then the shock of Amy’s terminal cancer diagnosis had tipped her over the edge and turned her into a full-blown, can’t-get-through-the-da-without-a-drink alcoholic. Maybe one day when this place was finished and her life looked as if it might get back on track, she would get some help to tackle it. For now, she would try her best not to drink too much, even cut it down to one bottle a night instead of the usual two.

      ‘That’s emotional blackmail, making me feel sorry for you – you know that, don’t you? Right then, I’ll take these boards off and we’ll see what we can do. Where’s your stuff?’

      ‘Back at the flat. I’ll have to find someone to help me bring my bed and clothes here. I don’t think they’ll fit on the back of my pushbike.’

      ‘Well, let’s see how bad this room is and then if you decide you’re going to do this, I’ll drive you in the van to see what you need and bring you back.’

      ‘Really?