Workman: Chapter Four - Part Two

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After lunch I went back out to the garage with a roll of bin bags. I knew I’d dithered about out there, worrying about throwing things away but the whole idea of fretting about that seemed preposterous now.

Life was all about enjoying the present time; living in the moment with all the verve and gusto we can manage. The idea of poring over old school books twenty years from now seemed like the biggest waste of time imaginable.

Without even a glance at them I shovelled the lot into the black bags then I set to work on the rest of the stuff out there. There were some photo albums I kept but almost everything else either got jammed into a bin bag or shoved straight out onto the skip. Some things were valuable or worth having restored. I kept these to one side and cleared the rest. There was a lot of crap. Three hours later I’d made a tremendous dent in it but there was more to do.

I broke and got myself a beer; sat out on the front step tucking into it.

Old Crabtree didn’t come out – probably pissing his pants at the thought of another run-in. He’d cleared his stuff from the side passage quick enough so I was happy on that score for now. The street was pretty quiet. It was a crescent – not a through road – so generally only locals used it. I had an enjoyable two minutes watching a young mother walk by pushing a pram. She had lovely legs and the most gorgeous ass: really first rate.

While I was sitting there I noticed the window ledges needing doing. There was so much wrong with this house. I didn’t think my girl-self would ever have finished if I hadn’t found the ring. It was just a good job I’d decided to put it on again.

I fancied doing a bit of outside work for a change so I fed an extension lead out through the window then went to work with the electric sander, really smoothing it off. It was easy work and enjoyable in the light afternoon sunshine. When the bulk of the sanding was done with the machine I dug out an old sanding pad of my dad’s from the back of his tool cupboard and did the delicate work. After that I got some Pollyfilla and went to work sealing the cracks.

John from next door pulled up in his car while I was working and threw me a wave. I nodded and grinned, carrying on working, starting to wonder about what I might do for dinner.

John wandered across the road and smiled. “It’s coming on well.”

“Yeah. Loads to do yet though; but it’s all easy stuff.”

“You got a background doing this kind of thing?”

I glanced at him.

Did I? I seemed to know a lot more about DIY when I was a man than I did as a woman.

“Yeah,” I said. “I, er... I’ve done a lot of contracting; everything from building work to decorating; some electrical stuff too; little bit of central heating.”

I didn’t know why I lied to him but it just rolled out of me like it wasn’t a lie and I briefly thought about christening myself Geoff in front of the mirror then finding ID hours later with the same name.

“You working at the moment or just doing this?” asked John.

I squinted up the face of the building. “Just this for now.” I shrugged. “Planning to sell the place and put the money into my business.”

That wasn’t a lie at least.

“How are you with plastering?”

I shrugged. I remembered my dad telling me it was one of the hardest things to do, but I was feeling cocky and it seemed like while I was a man I could do anything. “It’s a snap,” I said.

John chuckled. “Cause I was just wondering if you fancied doing some work on the side for a bit of extra cash.”

“Eh?” I turned to him, slightly startled. “What were you thinking?”

He thumbed back at his house. “My lounge wall needs doing. Debbie’s been on about me sorting it out for ages and if you can fit it in and you’re willing... maybe we can help each other out.”

I stopped working and looked across at his house.

Could I really do that? I turned my mind’s eye inward and instantly got a raft of different principles of plastering. I felt as though I knew all about it. This man’s mind had the lowdown on anything practical in the house.

And I was low on cash...

I scratched the back of my head, mulling it over, then I gave an expansive shrug and said, “What the hell. How about tomorrow?”

John grinned. “Perfect.” He thought for a moment. “Say, I’m meeting some mates down the pub later to watch the rugby. You’re welcome to come along if you fancy it. We can go over the details of what needs doing in the boring bits while we’re getting pissed.”

I grinned back at him. “Sounds like my kind of evening.”