Fixer Upper

Chapter 6

It turned out that a weekend sat between our last meeting and the next, which left me at a loose end for how I was supposed to fill my time, I was starting to tire of this absolute lack of plans. I'd been here for four days and I had only met two people, and one of them was now contractually obliged to see me, which wasn't the best start to a friendship. I suppose the neighbourly thing to do was to thank Cathy for her help in finding Cal, which, on a completely unrelated topic, gave me something to do with my day and someone to ask what the hell there even was to do around here. I thought of how I could thank her, and remembered my lavish coffee machine, bought when I convinced myself that I could forego takeaway coffee. It didn't last. I hope it still worked.

Blowing the dust from the top of the machine, and performing a wincing prayer as I plugged it into my, at least, 40 year old electrics, I started it up. Surprisingly, the perfectly roasted espresso pour and milk frothing was something I performed effortlessly, including the shaking decant of the pillowy milk topper. A final flourish of cocoa powder and I'd made a cappuccino that rivalled the most artisan of coffee shops. Another potential new career opportunity, perhaps? Although there wasn't a coffee shop culture around here, maybe just tea and scones.

Taking the coffee I left my cottage for the 30 second journey to Cathy's shop. The bell once again took me by surprise but, knowing what to expect, the shop's unusual contents made me smile. Cathy with a C was once again at the counter, but this time wearing a pristine canvas apron and held an ornamental, but functioning, watering can in her matching gloved hands. She was too busy tending to her plants to notice my arrival. I gently placed the cup on the counter in front of her, causing her to jump and spill a little water.

"I just wanted to say thank you for contacting Cal for me," I said.

"Who?" Cathy replied, perplexed.

"Oh, the builder. I just wanted to thank you for contacting the builders for me. You know, yesterday".

I fumbled for Cal's card, finding it in my pocket and presenting it in the hopes that she'd recognise it from yesterday. She recognised it and clasped her hands, lips pursed into a smile.

"Oh, that's no worry darling," Cathy smiled again, "are you settling in okay?".

"A little better every day, actually".

Cathy lifted her cappuccino and raised her eyebrows as she lifted it to her lips, leaving a white moustache as she sipped.

"What's he looking like?" Cathy asked, furrowed brow, as she rubbed the leaves of the plant.

"Well," I felt taken aback, "he's, um, quite good looking I suppose".

She raised her head and gave me a quizzical look, it became apparent that she was talking about the plant that she had decided had lost its usual lustre.

"Oh," I blushed at my faux pas, "honestly Cathy, I think that plant's plastic".

"Is it?" she said.

I nodded as if to say 'I'm afraid so', gritting my teeth.

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

I pulled a leaf from it and gave it a crisp packet crumple, opening my hand to show a fully formed and undamaged leaf.

"I've been watering this for well over a year and no one has ever told me".

"Sorry," I gently placed the leaf back in the other fake foliage.

"Where has the water been going then?" Cathy lifted the pot, moving it from side to side, and looked underneath it.

"I've been pouring it down the sink of an evening," A tall thin woman in her late sixties, with the practically pulled back hair of a librarian, entered the room through shop door ribbons, "I just didn't have the heart to tell you".

It was Kathy with a K, I recognised her from her scowling photograph.

"This is Joe, our neighbour, he's just brought me a coffee," Cathy smiled, "how kind".

Kathy with a K, lacking the gratitude of Cathy with a C, took my coffee from my own hands and nodded her thanks. I didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't for her and, to be honest, I could do without the enemies. Kathy looked me up and down, then glanced back at Cathy, then back at me, decidedly unimpressed.

Still, in the spirit of small town nosiness, Cathy filled Kathy in on my life history, which was quite nice because I wasn't confident that my rambling verbal dump had made a lot of sense at the time. It seemed that Cathy was a lot more switched on than I'd given her credit for. I just stood there, blankly smiling as if I were on the most boring episode of 'This Is Your Life'. Kathy had nodded along and payed obligatory noises of affirmation, her bottom lip pouted at the news of my life shattering breakup, a bit falsely if I'm honest. She nodded knowingly at the disrepair of my cottage, unoccupied and unloved for years, apparently. However, Kathy's eyes narrowed and ears lifted at the point where Cathy divulged my, now regretful, exit from my career in marketing and brand analysis, as if she were either suspicious of anyone from the city with such a non-job job, or perhaps she was forming a plan.

"What does one of those do then, Joe?" she said, eyes still narrowed.

"Well," I said, shifting on the spot, "basically I would advise companies on the way products fit who they are, and suggest ways to market it".

"And what would you do with this place?" Kathy said, chin up and arms crossed.

"What do you mean?".

"It's not like we're teeming with customers, what would you suggest for us?".

"Come on now," Cathy interjected, "Poor Joe doesn't want to talk work, he's left all of that behind".

Cathy nervously smiled and tried to change the subject by turning back to her much loved plastic plant.

"Actually, I'd love something, anything, to do at the moment," I turned back to Kathy, "if you give me a little bit of time, I'll put something together for you?".

Their eyes widened, Kathy smiled and nodded. Christ, perhaps they were shocked at my desperation. But, I needed to occupy my mind.

Kathy took a sip of her cappuccino and turned her nose up, she pushed the cup into my chest, wanting to get rid of it, and spun to walk away.

"I take sugar Joe, y'know, for next time".