Home Sweet Home

‘You have got to be kidding me, Johnathan Anthony Andrews,’ Beth said, whirling around to face him. Though her heart panged as his face fell, she wasn’t able to stop the words from falling out of her mouth.

‘What? Don’t be like that, I know it needs a little work, but–’

‘A little work? John, just look around you. It’s a wreck!’ As she spoke, she swung her arm forwards, surveying the room before them.

What should have been a comfortable, two-bedroom terrace house in the boroughs of London instead looked like the aftermath of an explosion. It was utter carnage. Debris was scattered all over the floor, lying under a two-inch-thick rug of dust.

Beth walked further into the room, her breath catching in her throat as she drew in a lungful of rancid air. John was hanging back near the door, his eyes never leaving Beth, barely blinking, as he waited with bated breath for her hot temper to rear its head.

But Beth simply laughed. And even though it was an exasperated sort of laugh, the kind that comes only when the other options are to scream until one’s throat is hoarse, or to crumple up into a ball and sob, John’s face brightened.

‘See?’ he said, moving closer to her, ‘That’s the spirit.’ He regretted the words almost as soon as he said them.

‘That’s the spirit? That’s the spirit?’ Beth said, her voice becoming worryingly high and squeaky. ‘John, I gave up everything for you. I packed my entire life into a suitcase and moved across the country for you. And this is your big surprise? This isn’t a new home for us, John. This is a ruin!’

John placed his hands up in front of her, whether to calm her down or to defend himself, he wasn’t sure. ‘I know it’s not quite ready yet, but we can stay in my flat until then. I’ve taken time off from the restaurant so we can work on it. I thought it’d be a fun little project for us, fixing up our future home with our bare hands, you know? I thought you’d love it.’ John paused, desperately trying to refrain from both bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and continuing to ramble, as five years with Beth had taught him that either would be a very bad idea. But she said nothing. Silence fell between them. ‘Ok…please say something…you’re starting to freak me out.’

‘Your lease on that flat runs out in one week, John. One. Week.’ Beth said, her voice low and quiet, trembling with barely supressed anger. ‘There’s no way that this place will be ready in time.’

John almost visibly deflated, his expression falling at the glimmer of tears in her eyes. ‘Hey now,’ he said, reaching his hand up to brush her cheek. ‘Come with me.’ John walked towards the back of the room, treading carefully around the piles of broken glass. Beth didn’t move.

Realising that he was alone, John glanced back over his shoulder. He held out a hand, stretched towards her. ‘Beth,’ he said, ‘please. I want to show you something.’ Beth sighed deeply.

‘Fine,’ she said, her temper short. She began to pick her way through the debris towards him, taking his still outstretched hand in hers. He led her towards the staircase, or rather, what was left of it. The half-rotted bannister had collapsed, who knows how long ago, and lay amongst the rubble in what should have been a hallway.

John leaned a hand on the wall to steady himself as he placed a foot on the first step. Beth flung out a hand to stop him before he put any weight on it. ‘Are you mad?’ she said, her voice incredulous. ‘It won’t support you, it’ll collapse beneath you!’

John just smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘Don’t worry, it didn’t the last time,’ he said as he climbed to the second step, the stairs creaking ominously. ‘Though keeping your fingers crossed wouldn’t hurt.’ Beth rolled her eyes, but as she watched him creep slowly upwards, her gaze never once left him.

She relaxed once he was safely at the top, and began to follow him, concentrating intensely on each step and cursing him silently every time the wood groaned beneath her. She almost leapt off the last step, desperate to be on solid ground again, and looked around her. Her frown deepened.

‘This looks even worse than downstairs,’ she said, willing her voice to remain calm as she resisted the urge to scream at him.

‘Well, it is,’ John said, nodding solemnly as though giving her tragic news. ‘But just imagine Beth, imagine what it could be, what we could turn it into.’

He led her through a crumbled doorway into an open space. ‘Welcome to our bedroom,’ John said, spreading his arms out wide and spinning around towards her as though he was presenting a golden palace to her.

He moved around the room, his arms gesturing wildly. ‘Look here,’ he said, ‘we could put a huge four-poster bed in the middle, with curtains you know, real posh ones, too. And here,’ he said, moving to the other side of the room and almost tripping over the moth-eaten cloth that was lying on the floor, ‘we could put a TV, right opposite the bed so we can lie in on the weekends and watch it, without having to move an inch!’

John dragged her back through the door, down the short hallway through to what looked like the remains of a bathroom. Beth couldn’t help herself, smiling slightly at his eagerness. ‘We could have a huge bathtub in here, in the corner over there, and a cupboard for the thousands of bottles you have which can sit in there and gather dust. Though, of course, there’d be space by the sink for the two that you actually use.’ Beth laughed aloud at this, gasping with mock indignation. She grinned, allowing herself to be taken along by his fantasy as he pulled her back towards the stairs and another doorway.

‘And in there, maybe a nursery?’ he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively at her.

Beth swiped at him playfully. ‘Ok, ok! I get the picture,’ she said, grabbing hold of his arms and pinning them back down to his sides.

‘You do realise how insane this is? How much work we have to do?’ she asked, though she was still grinning broadly.

‘I know,’ John said. ‘But when I first came here, it felt right. Even though it’s a dump, I saw its potential. I knew it would be our home one day, and so I had to get it.’ He smiled down at her.

‘Ok, let’s do it. Let’s make our home here,’ Beth said.

‘Yeah?’ John said as he pulled her into an embrace.

‘Yes,’ Beth mumbled into his chest. ‘Though, couldn’t you at least have gotten rid of the dead pigeon that’s currently in our living room?’ John shrugged, forcing his expression into as innocent a look as he could manage, and they both burst out laughing. They were home at last.