Chapter 16

16

Laura wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, feeling a smear of wall filler against her skin. Yuck. Standing back, she crossed her arms, getting yet more white goo across her T-shirt, and surveyed the hallway.

Strips of wallpaper lay strewn across the floor, with small mounds of crumbled plaster mixed in. And the dust! The fine white powdery dust covered everything: the reception desk, what was left of the woodworm-riddled banister, as well as herself.

Her plan of only filling in the gaps in the plaster which she’d discovered during the previous days had soon turned to ripping the wallpaper from the whole of the hallway. She’d begun filling in the first patch which had crumbled when she’d been on the phone to her parents, but every time she’d brought the little scraper up to the wall to smooth the wall filler, more of the old stuff had crumbled away and before she’d known it she’d uncovered a patch the size of a dinner plate and then a large oven tray, until she’d taken off a whole metre square of wallpaper and the wall was still crumbling beneath her fingers.

Still, it needed doing, and it needed doing right. And now, with the wallpaper on the floor, she could see where the worst of the old plaster was crumbling. She squeezed the last of the ready-mixed wall filler from the tube and threw the empty container onto the heap of three other empty ones behind her before beginning to smooth the blob.

Laura took the final tube of wall filler from where it was sitting on the reception desk and cut the sealed top off. In hindsight, if she’d known how many patches there were, she’d have looked into replacing with plasterboard. Although, of course, she’d have only been back to the same old problem of struggling to find a professional willing to fix it for her.

No, this way, although she was certain it was probably more awkward and time consuming, at least she’d have it done in one day. And she’d have done it herself, too. She contemplated taking a photo to send to her parents but, catching sight of her hands, decided that gloating wasn’t worth ruining her phone for.

Running a palm over the final section of the wall, she winced as yet more plaster snowed down. Still, at least the dodgy patches were flaking off easily, apart from this one patch about halfway up the wall at shoulder height, where the hole was deeper than she’d discovered elsewhere, and yet there was still more plaster coming off.

She pulled out the screwdriver she’d been using, which she’d found where Jackson had left it on top of the washing machine, and had stashed in her back pocket. Then gently tapped the small section. She just needed to get to the solid stuff. Nowhere else had been a problem, the plaster had finished crumbling a few millimetres beneath the surface.

Jabbing the screwdriver in a little harder this time, Laura screamed and jumped back as a spurt of water sprayed her in the face.

‘No, no, no!’ She couldn’t have hit a pipe. She couldn’t have. The hole didn’t go that deep, just a centimetre or two at the most. There wouldn’t be a pipe there, and if there was, where would it be going? It was the hallway, not the kitchen or a bathroom.

She lifted her hands, quickly replacing them again as water shot out. She’d definitely hit a pipe, and it was definitely water. What now?

Pulling her mobile from her pocket, all thoughts of getting the screen covered with gloop gone, she kept one hand over where the water was escaping while attempting to scroll through the search engine to find a local plumber. Stabbing the call button, she held the phone against her ear.

‘Hello, Heale Plumbers Limited.’

‘Hi, I’ve got an emergency and need someone to come out now, please.’ She took a deep breath. She might as well tell them where she was ringing from. She really didn’t have the time to go through their pleasantries if they were just going to put the phone down on her once she’d told them. ‘It’s Pennycress Inn, Meadowfield.’

‘I’m sorry, all our plumbers are bus?—’

Ending the call, Laura scrolled through to the next one and the next one and the one after that, with all the same conclusions. Each either cutting the call dead or making excuses as to why they couldn’t send anyone to help.

She screamed, her voice echoing around the hallway. This could not be happening. She hadn’t done anything to deserve to be treated in this way. She hadn’t hurt anyone, she hadn’t turfed anyone out into the streets when she’d moved in. The inn had been empty for six months – empty! Why were people behaving this way towards her?

Laura raised her hand, ready to throw her mobile to the other side of the hall before thinking twice and holding its cool screen against her forehead. Taking deep breath after deep breath, she willed the gut-wrenching anger in the pit of her stomach to subside. It wasn’t going to help the situation.

Putting her mobile back in her pocket, she placed both hands on the spot the water was spraying from, pushing against it in the vain hope that… What? It would stop? She had no idea, but what else was she supposed to do?

Tentatively, she lifted her hands. The spray had turned into a gush. She must have made the crack in the pipe worse and the pressure at which the water was escaping had only increased.

Slamming her palms back on the wall to stem the flow, Laura laid her forehead against the wall and opened her mouth, a deep guttural cry of hopelessness escaping her lips. She couldn’t do this. What had she been thinking? She’d trained in admin, not hospitality, and however much research she’d crammed in before moving to Pennycress didn’t make her an expert, it didn’t make her capable of running this place, of fixing all the issues which came with it.

Although she hadn’t planned on taking on any DIY tasks. Yes, eventually she’d kind of thought she’d learn how to maintain the place just to save money, but not now, not straight away. Pennycress was supposed to have been ready to reopen. That’s why the contents had been sold along with the building, so the new owners could just move in and manage the place.

Broken guttering, loose tiles, woodworm, crumbling plaster and broken pipes weren’t part of the deal. She’d thought she’d been buying an inn ready to open and start earning money, not somewhere which needed practically rebuilding.

Without thinking, she lifted one hand to wipe the tears springing from her eyes with the back of her hand, only to get a face full of water.

Slumping her shoulders and resting her head in the crook of her elbows, she tried to think. She did need to ring someone to help, she couldn’t stay like this, in this position, forever. But who? She had no idea how far out the villagers had made a pact with traders not to do any work for her. She could be ringing round all evening and still get nowhere. She couldn’t ask Richie or her dad. They lived too far away and by the time they’d arrived the place would likely be flooded. So that left only one person.

Jackson.

Who she hadn’t spoken to since that weird moment in the garden. Who she’d heard sticking up for her in the pub. Who she had so many questions for, but all to which she didn’t want the answers.

She had no choice, though. She knew that.

Bracing herself, she took one hand off the wall and ducked out of the way of the oncoming water before pulling her phone out and ringing him.

‘Laura, hi. How are things? I was?—’

‘Jackson. I need your help. Right away.’ She swallowed, her voice hoarse. ‘Please.’

‘Oh, okay. I’ll pop round now.’ And then he was gone. The phone silent.

Letting her mobile drop onto the mounds of wallpaper covering the floor, Laura began to cry.