‘There’s not much room down here,’ she said, to herself as much as to Jago. ‘We’ll have to do without the bucket. I need to turn sideways.’
She edged her feet to make a bit more room and sent another heap of earth tumbling down. For a moment she didn’t dare look to see if the kitten was all right; then she heard a tiny squeak. Nausea, more sweating and a fear of fainting told her she hadn’t got long; if she collapsed down here she’d squash the kitten and it would take forever to get her out, especially if more soil fell on top of her. She gulped, reached down and snatched round her ankles until she found the kitten, grabbed it and stuffed it down her top. ‘Ladder!’ she called shakily, knowing she might vomit, hyperventilate, cry or all three at any moment.
The kitten tried to escape from her cleavage, but she clamped her hand over its head, hoping she wouldn’t suffocate it while trying to save it.
At last the ladder came down and by climbing on to the pile of earth she made room for it. Then she stepped on it and climbed up.
Jago caught her when she got to the top and hauled her through the window, supporting her when she almost landed on the floor. He kicked a chair under her and she collapsed on to it.
‘Were you suffering from claustrophobia just now?’ he asked.
Helena nodded.
‘You should have said! I’m so sorry! If I’d known, I’d have found someone else to help. Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you some brandy.’
He put his arm round her and half carried her. She still had her hand round the kitten under her top, who was now struggling. When they got to the kitchen she fished it out. ‘Here, she’s getting claustrophobia now.’
He took the wriggling bundle and guided Helena to a scarred and paint-splattered table. ‘Sit down while I reunite this ball of mischief with her mother.’
In the few moments he was gone she recovered a little and looked around her. She had longed to get a look inside this house and now was her chance to at least see the kitchen. She would have preferred not to be in a state of shock and covered with mud when she did it, though.
It was large and had windows at both ends and at first glance seemed to be several kitchens joined together. Helena realised that although the principle of adding bits together was the same in here as it was outside, the effect wasn’t as pleasing. It was obviously a work in progress.
Jago reappeared with a bottle of brandy. ‘I feel terrible. It never occurred to me you’d feel claustrophobic. You really should have told me.’
‘I hoped I’d grown out of it,’ said Helena, feeling a bit foolish.
He frowned and shook his head but she couldn’t tell if she was the one he was annoyed with, or himself. ‘I’ll put the kettle on too. It’s what people do when they don’t know how to be really helpful.’
‘A cup of tea would be quite helpful, and I’d actually prefer it to brandy right now, if you don’t mind.’ She watched him make the tea. ‘You haven’t exactly got all mod cons in here yet, I notice.’
He laughed. ‘This room at least has leccy and running water, which is a bit scarce everywhere else, so as far as I’m concerned this is full-on luxury.’
‘How do you manage without electricity?’ Helena asked, her interest in her surroundings growing.
‘Torches. And I have a big industrial light that’s plugged in elsewhere. That works.’ He laughed again. ‘Everyone I know thinks I’m mad to live on site but I’m trying to do this whole thing as cheaply as possible. Why waste money renting?’
Helena shrugged and sipped her tea.
‘Now, how can Zuleika and I repay you for being so noble and overcoming your claustrophobia to rescue her kitten?’
‘I suppose letting me stay in my studio for another three months isn’t an option?’
Jago frowned and bit his lip, but then smiled and shook his head. His crooked, quirky smile lit up his grimy, unshaven face like an industrial light in a house without electricity. ‘What about another cup of tea and sandwich instead?’
Helena shrugged and smiled back. ‘If that’s all that’s on offer, it is about lunchtime, I suppose. But I’m a bit muddy to eat.’
‘One day there’ll be a wet room with a waterfall shower head. Currently it’s a bucket and a sponge, taking me back to my car-washing days.’
‘I’ll just go back to my studio then, but thank you for the offer.’ She started to stand up but he was up before her.
‘Go back and shower but, please, come and eat the sandwich afterwards. Or I’ll just feel terrible.’
Helena considered telling him how terrible it was knowing one was about to become homeless, and, more importantly in her case, studio-less. While she could always stay with her mother, her large loom could not – it took up far more space than she did. But what was the point? ‘OK.’
‘So, what can I make you? Cheese and ham on sourdough with salad, mustard and mayonnaise? I could toast the bread – might be nice?’
‘Hold the mustard,’ she said, ‘and toast the bread and it sounds like the perfect sarnie.’
‘It may not be perfect, but it will be good, I promise,’ he said. ‘Don’t be too long!’
Helena’s hair was still wet and knotty when she returned. She had put it into a rough plait and tied the end round with wool as it took so long to dry properly. She hadn’t put on any make-up, because, as she would report to Amy later, she wasn’t going to dress up for a man when she didn’t want a man. She did, however, want a sandwich.
She could see that Jago had done a bit of tidying in the kitchen while she’d been in the shower. There were fewer power tools on the work surfaces and there was now a board on the worktop on which he was assembling ingredients.
After watching him cut a gherkin into wafer-thin slices she said, ‘Do you mind if I ask you why you seem to have several different styles of units in here? You’ve got a Shaker and a very modern alongside some interestingly retro orange knotty pine. What look are you going for?’
He laughed. ‘The orange knotty pine, of course! No, actually, I’ve just put in here bits of kitchen that no one else wants. People are always ripping out kitchens and starting again. I can often repurpose the good stuff but there’s always a bit left over which is what I get to keep. I’ll do something to make it all look a bit more sensible eventually – when I get round to it.’ The toast popped out of a very old-looking toaster that had a pattern of poppies and wheat ears on it. ‘My sister gives me all her cast-off toasters but I’ve kept this one. It’s old but it always works.’
He assembled two sandwiches so efficiently that she guessed he had worked in a sandwich shop at one time. He put mustard on one sandwich and put the other on a plate which he handed to her.
‘Now, eat that and tell me it’s not worth rescuing a kitten for!’
‘Are you still sure I couldn’t swap it for an extra three months?’ Helena asked, suddenly ravenous at the sight of the sandwich.
He sighed. ‘Quite sure. I was pushing it when I gave you six months when I first bought the property. But your studio, and the one next to it—’
‘Amy’s,’ said Helena.