Two For Joy by Patricia Scanlan Read Free Book Online

very big extension as you can see. Are you sure you couldn’t squeeze me in?’ she urged.
    â€˜I don’t like to make promises that I can’t keep, Noreen. Phil Hanahan in Redwood might be able to do it for you,’ he suggested, helpfully.
    â€˜Phil Hanahan! Are you mad! He’s an awful chancer. Did you not hear about the Nolans’ new house? He and the idiot of a plumber got their hot and cold pipes mixed up and all the hot water was being flushed down the loo. Ma Nolan got the arse burned off her. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot bargepole!’ Noreen exclaimed.
    Oliver laughed. A good hearty chuckle. ‘I hadn’t heard about that. I’d better not go recommending him so,’ he said, his blue eyes twinkling as they crinkled in amusement.
    He’s nice when he smiles, Noreen thought in surprise.
    â€˜Look, leave it with me, and I’ll see what I can arrange,’ Oliver said firmly and then he was gone, his hand raised in salute, and somehow she knew that he’d see to it that the extension was built for her.
    Two days later he drove up in his battered old navy Volvo and she saw him loping up to the front door. ‘I’ll have a JCB here tomorrow to start on the foundations, if you want to start clearing out the room. I’ll be doing a lot of it myself after work so I hope you won’t mind putting up with a bit of noise and inconvenience in the evening. It’s the only way I can get it done anyway quickly if that will suit you?’ He leaned against the door jamb, his dark eyebrows raised quizzically.
    â€˜God, thanks a million, Oliver. I really appreciate this. I was at my wits’ end,’ Noreen confided. ‘You’ve saved my bacon.’
    â€˜I know what it’s like to have an elderly mother. At least mine is still relatively hale and hearty,’ he said gruffly. ‘The lads will be here before eight. See you, Noreen.’
    She watched him stride down the path and thought, he’s a pretty decent bloke even if he’s not very chatty, before forgetting about him as she began to clear out the small back parlour that had been her mother’s pride and joy the first time she’d walked into her new home. Now it was shabby and old-fashioned and Noreen felt no regrets as she rolled up the carpet and ordered a skip to take the old sofa and sideboard.
    Her mother was going to have a nice bright room with a bed and en suite and a big French door to give her a view of the rolling hills. Paralysed all down the left side and hardly able to speak, she wouldn’t have much of a life, but Noreen was determined that she’d have the best quality of life that she could give her.
    True to his word, Oliver’s men arrived with the JCB the following morning and that evening Oliver himself arrived to survey the work in progress and do his own bit. Noreen offered him tea and sandwiches but he told her, politely, that he hadn’t time; she got the feeling that he’d prefer not to have to make idle chit-chat but just to get on with things, so she left him to it.
    Every evening around six thirty he’d arrive and carry on where his men had left off, sometimes working until ten and after, as long as the light held good. It was an unusually dry couple of weeks and they were blessed by the weather. She often watched him, bare-chested, in the heat of the dying rays of the sun, and marvelled at the strength and fitness of him and made vague promises to herself that she would join the gym up in the hotel to tone up and give her an outlet to work off the tensions and frustrations of being a twenty-four-hour carer. She knew she needed some focus and outside interests to keep her sane in the months and even years ahead.
    One evening several weeks later, when the extension had its new tiled roof on, Oliver knocked on the door. His tanned face was streaked with grime and he looked tired.
    â€˜Howya, Noreen, just to let you know