“Not sure exactly,” Kate says. “Ozzie, come here.” Her dog has been repeatedly scooting over to the base of the stepladder to sniff at Ian. “I came out this morning around half seven and found the drip. The rug was already soaked, so I reckon maybe sometime in the early hours?”
“Yeah, we got a real clobbering with that rain last night,” Ian says. “I’m not surprised. This old place is full of holes I keep patching.”
Kate seizes the prompt to address her curiosity. “So, do you have your own business, or…?”
He chuckles, a soft bark of a laugh. “No, I work at the bookshop in town.”
Kate isn’t sure if this information makes her more or less confused. He steps down off the ladder, and before Kate can grab Ozzie, he darts over for a scratch, which Ian enthusiastically delivers.
“Then what are you doing here?” she asks. “Doing this?”
“Well, my granddad dated, courted—I don’t know what they called it then—Audrey in the fifties, after they both came back from the war. For whatever reason, they didn’t marry, but they stayed friends. After my gran died, Audrey was really there for my granddad until he passed himself, a couple years ago, now. Anyway…” he says, waving a hand through the air as though dispelling the details like a cloud of gnats. “Point is, Audrey never had kids of her own, and she sort of took a shine to me. I’m good with my hands so I help out here when things need doing around the hotel…”
Kate nods as he continues speaking, but she’s only half-listening, fixating on his mention of the war. “Did you say your granddad and Audrey met when they both got back from the war?”
“Yeah.”
“Was she one of those women who built aeroplanes or something? She hasn’t really said. I’d kind of assumed she was on the home front.”
“No. I think she was over there. Not sure what she did though. I’ve only ever heard her mention it once, maybe twice. I don’t think Granddad ever knew much either.” Ian gives Ozzie another scratch, then points at the ceiling. “I need to get up on the roof and have a look. I’ll be outside for a bit if you need me.” He picks up his tool case and steps past Kate with a gentlemanly nod reminiscent of a bygone era.
“Are you going to be okay up there? It’s freezing outside.”
“I don’t mind it. You get well accustomed to this sort of weather here in the north. Bit different from London, I expect.”
Kate’s never understood people who like the cold. She prefers running on a treadmill indoors instead of out, and she’d happily hibernate under a pile of blankets with a hot drink all winter if it weren’t so socially and financially problematic.
“It is,” she says, “but that’s not a bad thing.”
“Good,” Ian says, flashing her a warm smile. “I’ve always loved it here. Small-town lad at heart.”
She nods. “Do you know if there’s a decent fitness centre in town?”
“Yeah, a couple. I can give you the names before I leave.”
“Thanks.”
Half an hour later, Kate is in the sitting room when she hears the front door open. After struggling with the fireplace for a while, she finally got it burning, but the log is smoking more than it should be. She cranes her head around the side of the wing chair to find Ian brushing his boots on the doormat. His cheeks are ruddy and the rush of fresh air he brings in smells like mud and something green.
“I’ve mostly got it,” he says. “I patched some new shingles over the hole, but I think we might still have to replace part of the ceiling. We’ll see how well it dries out. Don’t want to get any rot though, ’cause then we’ll have an even bigger problem. This place is an old pig of a thing, honestly. I’ve told Audrey for about two years now that the roof really needs replacing, but she’s stubborn.” His tone is affectionate, fondness permeating his frustration, and Kate smothers a laugh.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” She rises from her chair. “Anyway, thanks for doing this. What’s the process for settling up? Do I pay you now, or do you invoice us, or…?”
Ian shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Audrey and I have it all sorted.”
Kate lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. She’ll follow up with Audrey once she’s back from the doctor.
“Well, the least I can do is offer you a coffee. I’ve just made a pot. Audrey should be home in a little while. From what you’ve said, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
“How do you take it?”
“Milk, no sugar.”
Kate disappears into the kitchen to fetch the drinks, and returns to find Ian kneeling beside the fire, which is no longer smoking.
“How’d you do that?” Kate asks.
Ian’s expression is that of a kid caught out in something. “Oh, did you build the fire? You had the logs all piled up, is all.” He points to the triangular arrangement that’s now crackling in the grate. “You need to give the flames some space to breathe. Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake.”
“Can you tell I wasn’t a Girl Guide?” she asks wryly, passing him the mug.
He nods his thanks, and they each take a sip.
“I doubt Audrey will be much longer,” Kate says after a moment of silence.
“I don’t mind waiting,” Ian says pleasantly, then strolls over to the library, settles himself onto the piano bench. The grey autumn light from the window is weak, and Ian reaches up to switch on the small lamp on top of the piano.
“Do you play?” he asks.
“No, but my dad did.”
Kate remembers the sound of it drifting upstairs to her room on weekend mornings. She’d hated it as a teenager, when she wanted to enjoy a lie-in, and now would give almost anything to hear him play again. Life is so full of extremes. How often that happens, that you end up yearning in ironic desperation for the very thing that once irritated, exhausted, or overwhelmed you.
“One of the ways Audrey repays me is by letting me tinker on this little beauty whenever I’m here.”
“I’ve never seen one this colour,” Kate says, blinking away the memory of her dad. “Is it rare?”
