Bricking It by Nick Spalding Read Free Book Online Page A

house to you tomorrow.’
    Hollingsbrooke’s eyes light up. ‘So does that mean we have a deal?’
    I smile. ‘Yes, Mitchell, it does.’
    He stands bolt upright. ‘Excellent!’ One arm goes out, with hand extended and palm open. ‘High-five me then!’
    ‘You what?’
    ‘High-five me! I can never say I have started a job until I high-five my client!’ He points at us with his other hand. ‘Do not, as the common vernacular holds, leave me hanging!’
    So let’s reflect: I am about to enter into a business relationship with a man who works on a houseboat, wears a headache-inducing combination of clothes, despises garibaldi biscuits and insists on a high-five instead of a handshake; all because I like the way he positions a roll-top bath.
    Reluctantly – oh so very reluctantly – I slap Hollingsbrooke’s hand.
    Danny is far more enthusiastic about the whole thing, and delivers a right palm stinger. This doesn’t seem to bother Mitchell in the slightest. ‘Fabulous! I’m so excited that you’re going to be working for me.’
    Eh? Aren’t we the clients?
    ‘You just wait,’ he adds, waggling a finger in our general direction. ‘I will transform your farmhouse into something fit for a king!’
    I admire his conviction, but I’ve seen the place up close and personal – he hasn’t yet. I just hope Mitchell Hollingsbrooke’s rock hard self-confidence is enough to withstand the horrors that await him at the Daley farmhouse.
    ‘Thank you, Mitchell, we look forward to working with you too,’ I say, emphasising the word with for all I am worth.
    ‘Yes . . . you and Mischa,’ Danny adds with a dumb smile. Mitchell’s eyebrow goes up once again. Purple-corduroy-wearing lunatic he may be, but there’s evidently a shrewd mind underneath all that bombast.
    ‘Indeed,’ he says, a sly smile crossing his face. There’s obviously nothing going on between architect and assistant then, judging from his reaction. ‘I’m sure she is looking forward to working with you as much as I am.’ He breathes in deeply and picks the tuba up again. ‘Now please get out.’
    ‘I’m sorry ?’
    ‘Please pop off. I have to ruminate on my tuba.’ He cranes his neck. ‘MISCHA!!!’
    ‘Good grief!’ I exclaim loudly, deafened by my new architect’s shrieking command.
    Poor old Mischa re-enters the room calmly. ‘Yes, Mr Hollingsbrooke?’
    ‘Show my two new valued clients out please. Feel free to issue them with garibaldis on their way out.’
    ‘Yes, Mr Hollingsbrooke.’
    Mischa holds out a hand towards the door. I quickly take it before Mitchell has the chance to destroy any more of my five senses.
    ‘Bye,’ Danny says, and gives Mitchell a little wave.
    I suppress a sigh of exasperation, and make my way back to the front of the boat, leaving Mitchell to gaze lovingly at his tuba and twiddle his moustache.
    ‘If you could email me all of your contact details,’ Mischa asks at the main door, ‘I will draw up the preliminary contract and get it to you for signing. If you like, I can come and pick up the paperwork for the house from you later today, if that is convenient.’
    ‘Thank you, Mischa, that’s very kind of you.’ I regard the young girl for a moment, before continuing. ‘Can I ask you something personal?’
    She looks a bit startled. ‘Um, okay?’
    ‘Why do you work for him?’
    Mischa smiles. Not the first time somebody has asked her this, I believe. ‘He isn’t as bad as he appears. I want to be an architectural designer, and I want to learn from the best. Mr Hollingsbrooke is the most talented artist I have ever met.’
    ‘But he treats you like a servant.’
    ‘No . . . no, he really doesn’t. I have worked for other architects and interior designers, and he is the only one who values my opinion, and lets me contribute to the projects he takes on. All the others just see a silly little girl from Slovenia. He sees a fellow architect and designer. Everything else does not