Home A Victorian house has been loved through the ages Comforts

This has got to go!” “OK, Em, don’t freak out on me; you know this is all we can afford.” Gloom swamps me anew. Two years we’ve been saving for a house deposit, making do with a meagre social life and no holidays; still this unloved Victorian terrace is all we can manage.

“This house has some great original features.”

Dan’s hopeful hazel eyes scan my face for any sign of reciprocal positivity.

“What, like this downstairs bathroom off the kitchen?”

“Technically, this isn’t original. It would have been a scullery to start with.”

He looks crushed. I make an effort to muster some interest. “Where did they wash?”

“Tin bath in front of the fire, probably.” “Marvellous.”

Dan crouches down.

“I’m pretty sure these floor tiles are original Minton.”

Dan works for an auction house so I’ll take his word for it. They just look like grimy squares to me.

“They would have been beautiful back when they were put in. Probably cost a bit, too. I bet we could restore them!”

“Trust you to notice something like that. I bet nobody’s looked at them for years.”

“Probably not. It’s been a student let for a long time.”

“You think?” I eye the message scrawled on the kitchen wall in black marker pen:‘please put rubbish in the bin’.

Underneath it, a large black arrow indicates where said bin must have stood.

“Come and look at the rest of it, Em.” He takes my hand.

“As soon as I saw it, I thought this was somewhere we could make a home.”

A home with Dan: that’s what I want more than anything.

“OK. But I am not having a downstairs bathroom.”

“We could move it upstairs.” As always, his boyish grin melts my heart.

“Arthur!” Rose’s eyes were round. “A whole house? Are you sure we can afford it?”

Her husband tucked her hand under his arm.

“We have twenty-five years to pay it off. It’ll be 1954 by the time it’s ours.”

“Gosh, I wonder what the world will be like by then.”

“Who knows?” Arthur chuckled. “All I care about is now, and having a proper house for my wife and son.”

He stroked Rose’s still-flat stomach.

“I think it’s a girl,” Rose giggled. “Why?”

“Intuition.”

“I’m not bothered either way, love.

“Here, come and see what your intuition makes of this kitchen.”

“Oh, dear, that old range will have to go, Arthur. I want a proper modern electric cooker.” “Anything you say, love.”

He led her into the scullery.“and this will be our new bathroom.”

“A whole room just for having a wash?”

“Not a wash, Rose – a bath.

“It will have hot and cold running water – and a proper flushing water closet, too.

“I’m not having my wife lugging an old tin bath around. It’s the modern way, Rose, bathrooms inside the house.

“No more trooping to the bottom of the garden in all weathers to visit the old earth closet.”

“How will we –?”

“I have a mate who works in the Armitage Shanks factory.” Arthur forestalled her objections.“he’ll get me a good deal.”

He winked.

“He’s going to install it for us in his own time for a bit of beer money. It’ll be right smart, you’ll see.”

“How many more?”

My hood drips raindrops on my chin. I blow them off and reach out for the box Dan has brought in. “Just two more.”

His hair is plastered to his head. “I’ll see if I can find the kettle.” “We can do better than that.” He grins.“i packed a bottle of fizz in the first box.”

“Really? I haven’t a clue where the glasses are.”

“I put two tumblers in with it.” “You, Daniel Forester, are a genius and I love you!”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses me.

“Now, let’s get this done and we can close the door on this weather for the night.”

“What about dinner? Cooker’s not coming till tomorrow.”

“I noticed a Chinese on the corner; thought we might as well give it a try.”

“Perfect.”

And it is.

From somewhere I find a candle and matches, and the flame throws flickering shadows over the castiron fireplace Dan assures me can be restored.

We sit on packing-boxes in our newly -dining room and savour chicken chop suey.

“To us.” Dan clinks his tumbler against mine.

“To us,” I echo, pulling a blanket around my shoulders.

“Mum says if it rains on your moving day it means you’ll be happy in your new home.”

“To your mum being right.” He raises his tumbler again.“as she always is.”

I punch his shoulder.

“I still think it’s weird having the bathroom downstairs, though. What if somebody visits when you’re in the bath?”

“We can knock down that wall upstairs and put in a new one.” He strokes my cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s actually ours.” “It is.” Dan’s smile is a caress in the candlelight.“and it’s going to be great.”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t take long.” Rose stood in the doorway of the demolished scullery with hands on hips.“it’s been weeks.”

“Give Ernie a chance, love. They’ve been that busy in the factory he’s had to do a load of overtime. He’s a good mate, he’ll get it done for us.”

“Well, he’d better hurry up or

I’ll be too big to squeeze into that bath.”

Rose eyed the gleaming white enamel bath on the scullery floor.

“And what are we supposed to do without water? I can’t even boil an egg. I don’t know what you’re going to have for your supper.

“I’ve no electricity, either, because your precious mate said it’d have to be turned off because of the leak. So we’ll be in the dark with no food.”

She heard her voice crack. Stupid tears that seemed to spring from nowhere nowadays began to blur her view of the building site that had once been the scullery.

“Here, love, don’t take on.” Arthur encircled her waist.“i’ll pop to the chippy.”

“As if I’m not fat enough already!” Rose sniffed.

Arthur kissed the tip of her nose. “You have never been more beautiful to me. Now, go and find the candles and we’ll have a candlelit chip supper. It’ll be right romantic.

“Let’s eat it out of the paper,” he added.“never tastes the same on a plate.”

“You’re a peasant, Arthur Prescott.” Rose giggled.

“Peasant, am I? Here, I’ve got you something.”

From his workbag he fished out a tile and held it up to the candle. A delicate flower on a cream background twinkled in its glow.

“Latest Minton design, m’lady. It’s what we’re having on our bathroom floor.”

“How?” Rose looked puzzled. “First firing was faulty.” Arthur smiled.“i offered the foreman a few bob for them.”

They stood together, peering into the blackness of the bathroom-in-waiting.

“It’s going to be beautiful, is this.”

“Wow! I can’t believe we got so much done in a day.” I’m standing amidst rubble.“a whole wall knocked down.”

“Yeah,” Dan says.“i think it takes a bit longer to build back than demolish, though.”

“It’s going to be lovely.” I walk into the space that will be our brand-new upstairs bathroom. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Persuading me that this house was a good idea, when I wasn’t sure.”

“You’re welcome.” Dan grins. “But since I’m in the good books, does that mean I’m OK to go to the football club social tonight?”

I cuff the arm that has crept around my waist.

“Go on, then. Just don’t wake me when you come in.”

When Dan has gone, I go back and linger lovingly in the bathroom building site, imagining myself soaking in blissful bubble baths.

I decide that doing a bit of research can’t do any harm, and then get so carried away with looking at bathroom websites that I don’t realise how late it is.

I’m buzzing with ideas. So, inspired by the lovely online images, I think I’ll try a proper bath downstairs before bed to wind down.

Up to now I’ve only been brave enough for fast showers.

It’s a non-insulated, singlestorey extension, so, of course, it’s freezing, but once immersed in hot bubbles I relax a little and try not to notice the clouds of my breath over the bath water.

Then I hear rattling and footsteps. Has someone broken in? I’m certain I locked the front door.

“Yeah, mate, it’s just out the back of the kitchen.” I can hear Dan’s voice.

My heart hammers; I desperately clutch the sides of the bath.

I am trapped here in a bathroom with no lock, and any second one of Dan’s football mates is going to come in to use the toilet.

The door handle rattles and I can’t think of anything to do but scream.

When I emerge, wrapped in a towel that barely covers my bottom, Dan and his mate are looking sheepish.

“Sorry, Em, I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“Evidently.”

And then, with as much dignity as I can muster, I stalk upstairs.

“Rose, will you stop cleaning that bathroom? We’ve not even used it yet and you’re scrubbing it to within an inch of its life.”

Arthur stood in the doorway, shaking his head in affectionate exasperation.

“Not only that, you’ve cleaned the whole house today from top to bottom.”

“There’s been so much mess,” Rose explained.“I just want to get everything neat and sorted before the baby.”

Arthur took the wet cloth from her hand.

“You’re going to stop cleaning, my girl, and get some rest. I’m going to run you your first hot bath in your own bathtub.”

“Look!” Rose gaped as the steaming water began to run. “Hot water coming straight out of the tap into the tub. Who’d have thought it?”

“All mod cons, us. Now, you climb in and I’ll fetch you a nice cup of tea.”

Rose relaxed and marvelled at the modern bathtub, where she could stretch full length.

“You were right about these tiles. Proper smart, they are.”

“All right, Emily?” Another of Dan’s football mates squeezes past me in the kitchen, where I am keeping up a constant supply of teas and coffees.

To make amends for the late- night bathroom incident, Dan seems to have seconded most of the team to help with our building work.

Upstairs, plumber Sam is fitting our new bathroom, and down here, Kev the kitchen- fitter is installing the new utility room.

Others are fetching and carrying. By tonight I reckon we’ll be almost done.

Dan is on his hands and knees prising up the Minton floor tiles prior to setting them round the fireplace.

“A lick of varnish and they’ll be as good as the day they were new,” he tells me.

Dan sits back on haunches to admire his handiwork.

“I wonder who put them in?” he muses.“I hope they’d be pleased we’ve kept them.”