Workman: Chapter Five - Part Two

It turned out that plastering was indeed a snap.

John’s wife, Debbie, was in waiting for me when I crossed the road. John was at work but hoped to have the afternoon off. Debbie and I made a run to the DIY shop for supplies, chatting amiably and flirting just a tiny bit – all in good fun.

When we got back she helped me clear the furniture and I spread out enough plastic sheeting to protect the carpet. Debbie watched for a while then left me to it.

I mixed up the plaster until it was just the right consistency, amazing myself that I knew what that was. I had never gone within thirty yards of a plastering job but how to do it just came into my mind as though I was an expert.

I scraped a trowel full of plaster off the mixing board and onto my hawk then started at the foot of the wall, working it into position, keeping the hawk angled just so but narrowing the gap between it and the wall as I reached the zenith. I kept repeating this, building up the base coat, not worrying for now about uneven areas, confident I’d get them on the second run.

While I was waiting for the plaster to harden just enough for the smoothing process I worked on the edges of the wall with a wet paintbrush to clean up little accidents where I’d nudge a little out of the area.

Debbie brought me in a cup of tea. “Thirsty?”

“You’re a mind reader.” I took a sip, winced, then took another. “Perfect. Thanks luv.”

She talked to me for ten minutes or so then left me to it.

I got my towel and worked at smoothing out the plaster, using a very shallow angle to get it as smooth as possible. There were a couple of uneven sections but that wasn’t a problem. I used a bit more plaster to even those out.

When I was done with that, Debbie appeared again with a plateful of ham sandwiches and some crisps.

“Perfect,” I said with a grin, taking the offered can of Coke. We chatted again as I tucked in. I polished off what she’d made for me then chomped on the others she brought through to slake my appetite.

John turned up as I was working on the drying and polishing. He watched as I wet the face of my trowel and then flicked water onto the wall with a wet paintbrush. It was tricky to judge just so. The idea was to get just enough lubrication so that the trowel would float over the surface, filling any imperfections.

I worked with long sweeping strokes, making sure it was as smooth as I could get it. It didn’t take too long. When I was done, John and Debbie gave me a clap.

I grinned and bowed then we all stood looking at it, arms folded.

“Nice work,” said John.

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t realise you were a master decorator.”

I shrugged. “Neither did I.”

He chuckled as though I were really joking.

I started cleaning up and John helped me. I gave him a couple of tips about drying time, amazing myself again at how deeply this vein of knowledge went. He took out the cash we’d agreed on and I tucked it into my shirt breast pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“A few mates are getting together later to play some rugby if you’re interested,” said John.

I thought about changing back – it was getting to be an awful long time that I’d stayed like this – but there wasn’t much urgency to the thought. I didn’t want to fall behind on my own house either and I knew what would happen if I turned back into a woman...

Not a lot.

I could spend the afternoon as a man doing up the house then play rugby. Why not?

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds like a good idea. What the heck?”

He told me the plan and we shook hands. “You’ve done a first class job. Thanks. Really top notch.”

I grinned feeling surprisingly proud of my endeavours, then bid him goodbye and walked back across the road.

My car was sitting in the drive, looking stupidly feminine. I gave it a little sneer and went back in my house to get back to work.