Always and Only You

Chapter Fifty-Eight

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Present Day

I’m just hiding my wedding binder back in the wardrobe when I hear a crash from downstairs and a shout.

I run out of the annexe, across the hall, and down the stairs to the lower level. ‘Gil? Is everything okay?’

There are only three doors down here. The first one is old and sturdy and locked when I try it. The second room is empty, bar some truly ugly carpet in an aggressive shade of orange. I find Gil in the third room, staring at a pile of wood on the floor.

He stares at the pile of wood, then up at me. ‘Bugger.’

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘A bookcase,’ Gil replies.

‘Not any more,’ I say, and then I can’t help myself – I start laughing. I know it’s horrible, that he might have hurt himself and I’m being incredibly insensitive, but then Gil laughs too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like this before – not a short huff of agreement, but a full-bellied rumble. When I accidentally let out a snort, it only makes us both laugh harder.

I’m still getting it all out of my system when Gil sobers and starts picking up pieces of wood and stacking them against a side wall. I can now see that there are holes in the wall above a row of cabinet doors that stretch down one whole side of the room, probably about fifteen feet. I also spot some ugly gouges in the wall, some still containing Rawlplugs, and realize this was probably on its way to being a stunning built-in storage cabinet. If half of it wasn’t on the floor, of course.

‘I think I underestimated how heavy it was going to be,’ Gil says.

I look at the wall. ‘You might need a different-sized Rawlplug,’ I say.

Gil raises his eyebrows.

‘You’ve seen the shelves in our living room. Do you really think Simon put those up?’

He nods, as if this new information makes complete sense.

‘What are you doing down here?’ I look around the room and it’s clear that there is fresh flooring, and the otherwise smooth walls are the telltale soft putty pink of new plaster.

‘I’m turning this one into another bedroom. Possibly for kids. I was thinking about built-in bunk beds over there.’ He points to the alcove on the opposite wall to the shelving.

My mouth twitches. ‘I’d make sure you’ve got those shelves nice and strong before you try anything that is supposed to hold a human body.’

‘Ouch,’ Gil says, totally deadpan.

I take a proper look at the room. It must be underneath the kitchen, next to the jetty. ‘What was this before you decided to turn it into a bedroom?’

‘All of the space down here was functional space for the maintenance of small boats. This one used to be a sail store.’

‘What are you going to do with the other rooms?’

Gil looks mildly surprised that I’m interested. ‘Do you want to see?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ This wasn’t what I was thinking of when I was searching for something to fill my afternoon, but it beats staring at the pattern on my duvet cover.

He takes me back to the other room, which he says is going to be another bedroom. The locked door turns out to lead out to the wet dock next to the jetty. He then leads me upstairs to show me another of the rooms in the main block, which will also be a bedroom. This one is just about finished, even if it looks a little spartan. There is oak flooring, and one wall is covered in blocks of natural stone, similar to the exterior of the house, and the others are painted white.

I’m so used to opening doors and looking inside rooms by that point that I just move to the next one along the corridor, only hearing Gil say something as I turn the handle and push the door open. Inside, there is yet more of the ugly orange carpet, along with an old-fashioned camp bed, the kind that’s basically a canvas stretcher with metal feet, a sleeping bag, a few suitcases, a dining chair and an old kitchen table housing a fancy computer set-up. Apart from the high tech, it looks like someone is camping out there.

Gil reaches past me to close the door again. ‘That’s, um …’

The penny drops. ‘This is your room?’

He’s heading away from me, back into the main living space.

‘Yes. For now.’

I trot behind him. ‘But why are you …? Oh!’ He walks over to the kettle and fills it from the tap. I put my hand on his arm and he freezes for a couple of seconds, then turns his head to look at me. ‘You gave me your room,’ I say. ‘And you moved into …’ I put my hand over my mouth. ‘Oh, Gil … I had no idea!’ And what’s even worse than my obliviousness is that it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask that question.

‘No need to apologize. It was my choice.’

I open my mouth to offer to switch rooms and the look on his face stops me.

‘Don’t,’ he warns me. ‘You’re staying put.’

‘But I … I …’

‘It’s non-negotiable, Erin. Besides, I’ve got a king-size bed and some furniture arriving for the other room up here in a couple of days. I’m going to move my stuff in there when it’s all set up.’

‘But—’

‘No.’

We stare at each other, and I realize maybe one of the reasons we have clashed so much in the past is because we’re both stubborn old goats. ‘Well, maybe I can help in some other way.’

‘You’re supposed to be resting.’

‘I know, but I feel like I’m getting some of my energy back. I think it would be good for me to have something to do.’ I flash him a winning smile. ‘I’m a whizz with a drill …’

His expression doesn’t change; he’s not buying it. ‘Simon warned me you might try to do too much. And I’m declaring DIY as officially “too much”.’

Gil gets two mugs out of the cupboard, makes the tea and hands one to me.

‘How about painting?’ I say, thinking of the stark white walls of the just-about-finished room. ‘I’ve always found that kind of soothing.’

His eyes narrow slightly. I can tell he’s chewing it over. ‘I’ll let you choose the paint,’ he says. ‘You’ve always been good with colours and shapes.’

I ignore the compliment and choose offence instead. ‘You’ll “let” me?’

‘It’s my house. What I say goes.’ His jaw is set, but I see a glimmer of humour in his eyes. The bastard is enjoying this. I should choose a shade of orange to match the ugly carpet he’s trying to get rid of. Then he’d regret giving me that job.

But then I realize choosing paint colours might mean a trip to a DIY store, and although I’ve been happy not to stray too far from the boathouse in the last few weeks, I’m suddenly excited at the thought of going somewhere new.

Even though I’m irritated with him for being his usual condescending self, I eventually sigh and then say, ‘Okay. You’ve got a deal.’