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‘Outside or inside?’ asks Dad.
‘Inside, of course! He’ll have to get professionals to do the outside. He won’t be insured for people clambering about all over the roof.’
‘I can probably help,’ I say. ‘When does it need to be done? I’m only home for three more days.’
Mum helps herself to more potato. ‘He says he’ll be making a start this afternoon. I don’t think he’s too optimistic about getting any helpers.’
‘I’ll give Suzy a call,’ I say. ‘It will do her good to do some work for once. Even if she can’t come, I’ll go along after lunch. I quite enjoy painting.’
‘I don’t think it’s the sort of painting you do at university,’ says Mum.
‘I don’t do any sort of painting,’ I remind her. ‘I’m studying graphic design.’
‘But it’s all the same thing,’ she says.
‘Not unless the vicar is using a computer. Still, I can probably handle a paint roller as well as anyone else.’
Suzy is reluctant when I call. ‘Why would we want to be stuck inside on a beautiful afternoon like this? I thought we could go to the pub.’
‘We can go afterwards. Come on, Suzy. It’ll be fun. What else do you have to do?’
She sighs. ‘Lie in the sunshine, thinking what a pity it is that the summer’s almost over.’
‘You can do that tomorrow,’ I promise. ‘Shall I call for you on the way there?’
‘I suppose so,’ she says ungraciously. ‘But I’m not staying all afternoon. One hour, maximum.’
The vicar is already there when we arrive, wearing an old pair of jeans and a stained T-shirt. He looks delighted to see us.
‘Dare I hope you’ve come to help me paint the hall?’ he asks.
‘That’s right,’ I say, dragging Suzy inside. ‘Mum says you’ll probably be on your own otherwise.’
He waves around the empty hall. ‘As you can see, the crowd of volunteers I’ve been expecting has been delayed. I’m very grateful you’ve come along. I thought you might have gone back to university already, Annie.’
‘I go on Friday. And I don’t have anything planned between now and then. Neither has Suzy,’ I add with a grin.
Suzy groans. ‘I don’t know how much help I’ll be, Mr. Martin. I’ve never done this before.’
‘There’s nothing to it,’ he says. He looks at her rather doubtfully. ‘You aren’t exactly dressed for it. You’ll spoil those lovely clothes. I’ll nip home and find you a pair of overalls.’
‘Please don’t bother,’ she says.
I can read her mind exactly. She’s never worn a pair of overalls, and she isn’t about to start now. She’s always perfectly turned out and immaculate.
‘If you’re sure,’ says Mr. Martin. ‘You’ll be fine, Annie. I don’t suppose you’ll mind getting your clothes a little messy.’
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘These are my gardening jeans. At least, that’s what I call them to stop Mum throwing them out. As long as I do the occasional bit of weeding in them, she’s fine.’
‘The paint cans are here,’ he says. ‘I’m giving the walls a coat of white emulsion.’
‘That’s easy enough,’ I say, seizing a roller and opening a can of paint. ‘We’ll start at the far end.’
‘I’m not using one of those,’ says Suzy. ‘I’ll get spattered with paint.’
She picks up a brush. ‘I’ll paint around the windowsills.’
I start to roll paint onto the far wall. It’s soothing pushing the roller up and down the walls while I listen to the chatter of birdsong floating in through the open windows.
