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But how? We haven’t spoken to each other at all, not directly, not since he called me a thief. Without the other two, the ice between us is as frozen as ever.
Pierre is already outside examining the paint pots, and she waves me over, so I follow her.
“We have lots of this cream?” She pulls the plastic lid from a large half-full tub. “Eek, it’s a seriously boring shade. How about the grey?”
Hal walking past us suddenly stops. “Don’t.” He lays a hand on the pot of cream paint that Pierre was about to pour into the grey. “It’s better to use the magnolia.”
“Calling it magnolia doesn’t make me love it any better,” Pierre scoffs.
He’s looking at her painted wellies and a vague smile tugs the corner of his mouth. because Pierre is anything but magnolia. He must have sensed me looking at him because he half turns, and his hand goes to his glasses. Ironically, it’s this unconscious gesture that is so revealing of his inner … what? Not awkwardness, not nerves, just … I don’t know; if I had to guess, I’d say his hidden thoughts.
Somehow this gives me courage to speak to him.
“What’s wrong with grey?” I ask him.
He seems to be struggling with himself for a moment then he hunkers down beside Pierre. “Gloss paint takes days to harden enough for people to walk on.”
“I don’t have a few days.” I tell him but he keeps his eyes on the paint and doesn’t look at me.
“What did you have in mind?” Gabriel asks. He’s just come out to join us and all three wait for my answer.
This is my decision. It fills me with such gratitude that three people I barely know have not only offered to help me but wait to hear my choice. A consideration never offered in my last job. Or home. Andrew always scoffed at my “flea-market” decor ideas.
“I quite like the natural look. Is it possible to do something that makes the wood show through?”
Hal pushes different tins of paint around and finds another grey which is water based. “Want my advice?” He looks up and for the first time; he actually meets my eyes.
“Please,” I say.
“Paint the floor with an emulsion, water it down a bit so it dries faster, this will allow the woodgrain to come through.”
I can’t help grinning at him. “Perfect.”
“Shabby chic.” Gabriel grins. “If we paint it tonight, will it be ready to walk on tomorrow?”
Hal shakes his head. “You need 24 hours.” he says looking around everything piled in the front garden then back at the two rooms which will be my shop in no time at all.
“We can pull an all-nighter,” Gabriel offers.
“Or…” Hal says slowly. “Paint one room only today. The other tomorrow. That way you’ll have one room to work in while the other is drying.”
I really must find a way to thank him. A polite grown-up way. Otherwise, I’m going to hug him and cry.
Gabriel must think the same because he laughs, clapping Hal on the back. “I think you’ve just volunteered to stay and help the amateurs.” He points at himself, Pierre, and me.
“That would be amazing.” Pierre says. “You’re the only one with any real expertise.”
For a tiny moment, he hesitates and his hand goes up to touch his glasses.
“Please don’t let us put you on the spot,” I tell him. “You’ve been more than generous already, and I know you have you own work to do next door.”
He glances over his shoulder at his own house, then back at the piles of donated paint tins and the expanse of shop floor.
“Elodie,” Pierre says, gently. “Just let people help you.”
“The floor is very dusty after the sanding,” Hal says. “We’ll need to clean it before it can be painted.” He continues, following Gabriel inside.
I guess that means he’s staying.
