Chapter 33
Tom was surprised that Eleanor wanted to dabble in making creams and other cosmetics
He was having trouble deciding which version of her was real. The classy clothes horse with the defensive shield? Or the glittery, wellie-wearing Glastonbury one he had kissed?
He still didn’t know.
But he found himself more and more intrigued by the third version of this stranger. The one that wanted to create something for her friends.
Figuring the best way to find out more would be to help renovate the stable, he hunted around for some raw materials. There was a pile of leftover timbers from when the first team of builders had almost ripped Willow Tree Hall to shreds.
‘Help yourself,’ said Arthur, nodding at the huge stack when he was asked about it. ‘It’s all oak. Do you need some tools?’
Tom shook his head. ‘Thankfully I brought my own.’
‘Very wise.’
Tom carried the wood to the stable block and placed it on the ground. He rubbed his slightly sore back. He wasn’t used to physical work.You’ve grown lazy, he found himself thinking. A bit of actual exercise and hard work would do him some good.
He made a mental note of the jobs he needed to get done and began work. The door was completely rotten so he ripped it off and measured up for a new one. He kept the lock but Eleanor would need a padlock or something else. Not that anyone ever seemed to come here. Not even his fans, thankfully, who were still congregating outside the gates most days.
He also made some measurements for a workbench and shelves. The wooden shutters needed replacing outside of the window too, which, by some miracle, had remained intact.
Before he began to cut the oak planks down to size, he ran his fingers along the wood where it was smooth, the knots formed from many decades. He had missed working with wood and had forgotten the pleasure it brought him.
It also meant that he had a way to pay back the generosity of the family over the past month or so.
Meanwhile, the ever-present Dylan dozed on the warm stone until he became too hot and shuffled over to the cool ground in the shade of the trees.
By the time Eleanor appeared later with a broom, he had almost finished the new door and was ready to hang it.
‘You work fast,’ she told him before she went inside to sweep out the cobwebs and years of dust and dirt. ‘We could do with you at The Forge.’
He remembered the state of the place, thanks to the animals. But then he recalled the back door sticking. Perhaps he could give Eleanor’s Mum a bit of hand there, as well.
He briefly wondered why he was prepared to add yet more carpentry to his to-do list.
By the end of the day, most of the furniture had been made.
‘Tomorrow, the painting begins,’ he told Eleanor.
‘This is great,’ she told him, looking at her new table. ‘I suppose if the singing career doesn’t work out, you could always go back to being a carpenter.’
He laughed at her joke. ‘It certainly kept me fed and watered during all those years when I wasn’t famous.’
She left a short time later, citing donkey- and goat-feeding duties.
Alone at the stables, Tom took a moment to appreciate the peace. He had really enjoyed his afternoon and felt relaxed, despite his aching muscles.
Now that Eleanor had swept out the inside of the stables, he decided to quickly paint the walls with the old pot of white paint that he had found. Then at least it could dry overnight and prevent any further dust wafting up from the bricks.
It was a small space and didn’t take long, so he was able to finish the day by placing the worktables inside, leaving just the shelves to be screwed into place once the paint was dry the following day.
Closing the door, he felt a rare sense of satisfaction. But he was also a tiny bit frustrated. As if he hadn’t wanted to finish working. He had found himself humming and writing lyrics as he had worked. But now the job was over.
‘If I’d known you were as talented a carpenter as a singer, I’d have saved a fortune getting the main house done up,’ said Sam, looking amazed when he joined him at the stable block later on. ‘Dinner’s ready soon, by the way.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tom. ‘Though I’m not sure you can afford my carpentry skills.’