Overdue Overhaul

Barry kicked the bucket. It skittered along the concrete tiles and slammed into the rundown car parked along the side of the cottage. Grass and moss had grown over it and the metal had worn. The cobbled path leading from the driveway to the front door was broken, the paint faded. The light streaming through the surrounding trees only served to highlight this neglect and it looked like nature had just taken over and said, this is mine, bitch.

His parents had left him this cottage years ago, in the hopes it would spark his love for the outdoors. But it clearly hadn’t worked. The roof was leaking, some of the shingles had come loose, had numerous holes and breakages in the foundations, and was obviously uninhabitable. One could be forgiven for thinking that Barry’s avoidance of this place was its downfall, but it had been like this most of his life. And he would happily have gone on pretending it didn’t exist.

‘Your hole’s leaking, B.’

Except his friends had other ideas. Barry looked up at the admonishment and he pressed his lips into a thin line. It made him look angry.

Jon, Joe, and Barry were an odd group of friends. One tall, one round, one short. They worked together, lived next to each other, and took time off during the same holidays. They were the in-office moniker for odd balls. But clowns were funnier than they were.

Joe snickered. ‘He’s right, B. Gonna need to plug her up good.’

‘I don’t know if he’s up to it, yeah?’

‘Plugging isn’t his forte.’

‘Bet you he can’t plug her right the first time.’

‘Bet you fifty he gives up and goes home.’

‘I’ll give you fifty if you know how to shut your gob,’ Barry said.

They laughed and he shook his head, his thick, shaggy hair catching a droplet of snow as it fell from the roof of the cottage. He shivered. This place was smaller than he remembered. The snow and ice had melted as summer came in, leaving a gaping hole in the roof where water flowed through one room of the cottage.

He ignored his friends and sighed. They had a lot of work to do.

They started by hauling the rubbish and dead branches from the overhanging trees. Jon used a straw broom to clean the drag marks as Barry and Joe dragged everything, following behind them like a wet nurse.

The outside of the house was actually more stable than the inside. They spent the better part of the morning just cutting the panels they’d need to board up the holes, starting with the roof. This stemmed the flow of water into the house and allowed the rest to leak out as they worked. Mud slides and spiders the size of his fist didn’t slow him down as Barry threw himself into his work.

Perhaps it was guilt over seeing what he’d ignored for so long, or maybe the fact that he wasn’t alone in this. He would never say it out loud, but the willingness of his friends to drop their plans for the weekend to help labour over this lost cause meant more to him than the cottage and family legacy itself.

He showed his appreciation by baring their half-hearted insults.

When midday struck and his whole body felt like it was on fire, Barry called for them to stop. The aches and dry, caked skin only served to remind him he hadn’t done any kind of manual labour like this for who-knows-how-long. He’d been cooped up in that office forever.

‘Catch.’ Jon tossed him a water bottle from the cooler and they sat on the back of Joe’s truck to quench their thirsts and survey the work so far.

It was a patch job, but the roof was done, and the siding only needed a few more boards. It wasn’t going to win any awards, but it was a start.

Barry wiped his mouth and crushed the empty water bottle. The sweat was stinging his eyes, he smelled like an egg left out in the sun too long, and muscles were taut and frazzled. He blinked away the moisture and stood up, ready to work again.

‘Slow down, mate, we’ll get there,’ Jon said, but followed his lead.

The foundation was rock solid, since it was made of stone. They nailed the corner posts back into place and hammered the rusty gutters. The goal was to reduce future water damage by fixing the holes and replacing boards. Then they could assess the internal damage and figure out what could be saved and what had to go.

'Only a few boards left,’ Joe said.

He’d carted the last few from the back of his Rover; the brightness of the sun had begun to ease off and the afternoon cooled to more tolerable levels. The porous sweat made him shiver as he presented it to them.

‘They’ll do.’ Barry held out his arm, shaking his hand and clicking his fingers. ‘Let’s get it finished.’

‘Yes, mother.’

They boarded up the final holes along the south-facing, horizontal siding, and it was almost done. Jon started wiping down his ute. his eyes intent on his work, a frown on his face.

‘Let’s take a short break,’ Joe said.

Barry nodded his agreement, but Jon ignored them.

‘Wet your nether.’

Barry accepted the water bottle from him. ‘I should have done this years ago.’

It was long overdue.

‘Yeah, but we wouldn’t have been here to help, so there’s that.’

Barry scoffed. ‘Here to whine, you mean.’

Joe slapped him on the back. ‘Of course. What are friends for?’

‘Lazing about when there’s work to be done.’ Jon slapped him with the towel he’d been using to wipe oil from his car. ‘Come on, I’ll make a run into town and pick up some paint barrels. What colour?’

Barry couldn’t remember what the cottage used to look like. Old photographs from back when his grandparents bought the place were black and white. His parents hadn’t mentioned anything about it. He rubbed the back of his head, staring up at the cottage.

‘It doesn’t matter. We won’t have time.’

They were on their way to fixing the outside of the structure, but it was jumping the gun to start painting it. He grabbed a rag and emptied a water bottle over it before using it to wipe at the gunk on his face and arms. It was more important to him, right now, to clean himself than figure out the next step in the renovation.

‘No harm in being prepared,’ Jon said, raising his eyebrows at his friends. They were clearly non-committal.

Barry shrugged, not worried. He was satisfied with the day’s work. Unable to get an answer out of him, Jon sighed and mocked-shrugged, grabbing another water bottle. He didn’t mention the paint again as they all sat and marvelled at their work.

Whole sections would need replacing and they would have to throw out most of the furniture and appliances. This was more than a weekend job. This was a commitment. Barry smiled, wringing the rag in his hand to squeeze out the last bit of water before wiping his arm again.

And suddenly, that didn’t feel so bad, anymore.

'Let's do this.'