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‘Are youlivinghere?’ I ask him, as he takes a large bite. I have to wait a few moments before he replies.
‘Of course.’ He seems surprised by the question. ‘Why?’
‘Isn’t it difficult? Where do you sleep?’
‘Upstairs, where do you think?’ he laughs. ‘Do you want to see? It can be your first ladder of the day.’
Without waiting for an answer, he puts down his sandwich and bounds over to the ladder, climbing it effortlessly until he’s out of sight. By the time I reach the bottom, he’s leaning over from the landing and grinning.
‘Up you come,’ he calls. ‘This is a nice easy one. It’s fixed in place at the bottom and the top, so it’s no harder than a standard loft ladder.’
‘I lived in a flat. We didn’t have a loft ladder,’ I reply as I reluctantly start to climb. That’s not strictly true; I’m hiding the fact that Mum and Dad’s house does have one, but I never needed to use it because Dad’s always considered the loft his domain. However, Noah is right. I do the safety checks I learned on the course, and this is about as well tethered as a ladder can get. I’m still feeling a bit shaky once I reach the top, though.
‘Here, let me help you.’ Noah takes my hand to support me as I step off the ladder onto the safety of the floorboards. Despite shaking hands with him when we first met, I’m acutely aware of the physical contact this time. His hand is so different from Lee’s; it’s rugged, whereas Lee’s was buffed and manicured to perfection. Noah’s hand feels incredibly masculine in a way that Lee’s never did. I feel a strange urge to just carry on holding it, allowing my thumb to explore the contours of his palm, but Noah is thankfully oblivious to the effect he’s having on me, and releases me as soon as I have my footing.
‘OK, so the main bedroom is at the front,’ he tells me as he leads me through the doorway. Like the rest of the house, the walls have been stripped back to brick, and the single mattress on the bare floorboards indicates that there probably isn’t a Mrs Noah, which makes me happier than it ought to. In the corner, there’s a battered armchair and a tiny, portable TV. A chest of drawers and a hanging rail on wheels complete the room.
‘Suddenly, the caravan of shit feels like a five-star hotel,’ I giggle.
‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ he replies. ‘And the good thing about living on site is it keeps me focused on the renovations. Imagine the luxury when I’ve put fresh plaster on these walls, painted and laid some carpet. Something to aim for, right? Here, let me show you.’
I follow him back onto the landing and into the second bedroom. This is around the same size as the front room, but that’s all they have in common. The walls are plastered and painted in a very delicate shade of yellow. The floorboards are still bare, but it’s the first room I’ve seen in this house that looks even vaguely habitable.
‘Another coat of paint and then I’ll move in here so I can start work on the front bedroom,’ he tells me. ‘Come and look at this.’
He leads me out again and into what must have been the third bedroom, but is obviously going to become the bathroom, from the pipes I can see everywhere.
‘Believe it or not, this is nearly done,’ he tells me. ‘All the main plumbing is in, I just have to get the sanitary ware, connect it all up, and then tile and plaster.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to do one job at a time? Plaster the whole house in one go?’
‘It would probably be more efficient, yes, but I like to break the tasks up, otherwise it gets monotonous.’ He grins. ‘I don’t need a project plan, before you offer.’
‘Touché.’
‘At the moment, all the interior work is on hold because of the repointing,’ he continues. ‘That is boring, but I need to get it done while the weather is good. Also, the scaffolding is costing a fortune, so the sooner I can get rid of it, the better.’
To my delight, he takes my hand again to help me back onto the ladder, but this time my eyes are drawn to his arms. I wouldn’t say they were much bigger than Lee’s, but they somehow seem more impressive. I think it’s probably because they’ve come from a lifetime of hard physical work, rather than three workouts a week in the gym. At least thinking about Noah’s biceps takes my mind off the perils of the ladder, so I’m in surprisingly good shape when I reach the safety of the ground.
* * *
‘There’s something I don’t get,’ I say to him a couple of hours later. He’s somehow managed to coax me onto the scaffolding, and he’s showing me how to remove the old mortar so he can replace it with fresh. I’m not relaxed, exactly, but I’m nowhere near as anxious as I was the first time.
‘Go on.’
‘When we first met, you said you were from seafaring stock. How come you’re a builder and not at sea?’
He smiles. ‘You have a good memory. I’ll have to be careful what I tell you, I can see that.’
‘Are you going to answer the question?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Because? If there’s some massive family rift, and one of your siblings is likely to blow your house up, I think I’d like to know. I’m a little vulnerable on your scaffolding.’
He laughs. ‘There’s no family rift, I can promise you.’
‘So what’s the story?’
