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‘Thinking of which, it’s nearly lunchtime. Are you going to come down and let me make you a sandwich, or do I have to bring something up here?’
‘I’ll come down. I’m supposed to be practising, remember? It’s not all about you getting slave labour to work on your house.’
‘Fair point. Come on then.’
It takes me an age to complete the first stage of the descent. As soon as I walk over to the top of the ladder, the distance between me and the ground becomes painfully obvious again. I can’t even rely on the comfort of Noah’s strong hands because he’s gone down first this time. I can just about hear him calling out words of encouragement over the sound of blood rushing through my ears as I tentatively place my feet on the rungs. Every step is agony, and I have to pause when I finally reach the lower level of scaffolding, just to catch my breath and get my legs to stop shaking.
However, I’m surprised and delighted to discover that the second ladder, down to the ground, poses no problems at all, and I perform a little victory dance, much to Noah’s amusement. The house is dark and pleasantly cool inside after being in the sunshine all morning.
‘Would you like a beer?’ Noah asks, proffering a bottle from the fridge.
‘I don’t think so. The health and safety training was pretty firm about the dangers of mixing ladders and alcohol.’
‘It’s alcohol free.’ He shows me the bottle. ‘It might surprise you to learn that I have had a little bit of health and safety training myself.’
‘Ha ha. Go on then. I reckon I’ve earned it.’
‘That you have. By the time this scaffolding goes, you’ll be up and down it like a pro.’
‘And you’ll have had hours of free labour. I’m not sure who is getting the better deal here.’
‘You, obviously.’ He grins. ‘You’re overcoming your fears and learning new skills. I ought to be charging you, really.’
‘You believe that, if it helps.’
‘Would you rather be spending the weekend in the caravan of shit?’
‘OK, you’ve got me,’ I laugh.
The truth, which I’m certainly not going to share with him, is that the days I’m spending with him on the scaffolding are rapidly becoming the highlight of each week.
22
‘Carol, you have to come and see this,’ John tells me as he barges into the site office. I’ve got so used to him calling me that in the couple of months I’ve been here now that it doesn’t even register that it’s not my proper name. I’ve got to the point where I’ll respond equally happily to Carol or Ella.
‘What’s up?’
‘They’ve bloody excelled themselves this time.’
‘Who?’
‘Williamsons, who do you think? Come with me.’
Grabbing my hard hat, I follow him outside and down to number five, one of the smaller ‘Windsor’ homes, which is in the process of being made watertight. The roof is on, and the glazers are fitting the windows that arrived yesterday.
‘I know it’s not strictly my job,’ John is explaining, ‘but Mike wasn’t sure what to do, so he asked me, and I thought it best to come and get you.’
I understand why that might be. Mike is the team leader of the glazers, and I don’t know him nearly as well as some of the others, because they only come on site for a few days at a time to fit the windows for each house when it’s ready, unlike the others, who are here pretty much every day.
‘We need to go up to the top floor,’ John tells me as he starts to climb the ladder up to the first layer of scaffolding. I wouldn’t say I’m completely over my fear of heights, but my practice weekends at Noah’s have certainly helped, and I follow him up without an issue.
‘Show her,’ John tells Mike, who is waiting for us along with another guy from his team and a stack of window frames. Together, they lift one of them and offer it up to the opening. It’s not even in place before I can see that it’s too small. There’s a large gap at the top.
‘Stupid question,’ I say to Mike, ‘but before I go and call Williamsons, this is definitely where this frame is supposed to go, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely, we checked them all,’ he tells me. ‘The ground-floor exterior doors and windows all fit fine, but none of the first-floor ones do. We wondered if they might have been mislabelled, but we’ve tried every frame in this opening, and none of them fit. We also offered them up to the other openings, and it was the same story.’
‘What about the glazing?’
