Pauline watched them both for weeks. To-ing and fro-ing. Back and forth. It made her feel weary seeing them so busy.
She’d been the same when she first moved in, years ago now. Took her months to get the place straight. Stripping back ancient layers of wallpaper, scraping for days at filthy skirting boards and bannisters. Ripping out fireplaces and getting covered in soot, pulling up filthy floorboards and finding dead rats, hauling out cracked sinks and broken toilets. She plumbed in an enamel bath that had fallen off the back of a lorry (literally – there was only a small dent), lived without any heat or light for weeks until a mate finished the rewiring on the cheap (she still got the occasional shock). And the garden had been a jungle. She hacked and slashed and chopped her way through it, arms aching with the double digging, until the soil came up rich and dark and ready to plant all the food she needed.
Of course, she’d never owned the place, not really. But it was her home. And now these people were inside it, coming and going. Dismantling her life.
Soon they would come for her.
Hilary was a teacher and academic for over 40 years, putting all her energy into generating a love of learning in her students and busy writing educational programmes and guides. Since retiring though, she has turned her hand to her passion for short stories and flash fiction and is excited to be recognised for her creative writing. She is inspired by her late mum, Rita.
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