Bricking It (13 page)

I’ll have to take his word for it, I suppose. ‘Good. I need you with me on this.’

‘You nervous?’

‘Aren’t
you
?’

‘Oh, well of course I am, but then I’m
me
. You’re a lot stronger when it comes to this kind of stuff than I am.’

‘Thanks, Danny,’ I say, quite touched.’

He smiles. ‘No worries, sis.’

A few minutes later Gerard approaches us, rubbing his hands together. ‘Okay then. We’re just about ready to do this. Let’s get you all in a suitable position to open the show with.’ He shuffles us back a bit, so we’re both standing by the new front door of the house. ‘This’ll do fine. I’ll do my intro up the path near the front, then I’ll walk backwards to you and we’ll get going with the interview. That all sound good?’

Danny nods erratically.

I go, ‘Meep.’

Gerard puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Honestly, Hayley, you’ll do great.’

My turn to nod erratically.

Gerard moves away from us back up the garden path, and I grasp hold of my brother’s hand tightly.

‘Good luck, sis,’ he says to me, his own hand tightening a bit.

‘Yeah, you too,’ I reply, wishing I was anywhere else in the world right now than here. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and try to compose myself.

The credit sequence of
Great Locations
is just what you’d expect. Images of grand houses, sweeping countryside and long sandy beaches, all caught under the kind of bright blue British summer skies that only exist in people’s memories. The theme tune that plays with the credits is the bland kind of muzak that plays when you’re in an elevator, or on hold with the gas board. It’s inoffensive, light and easy to hum along to.

When the credits end, and the live show begins, the camera finds Gerard O’Keefe looking resplendent in his usual collection of army surplus gear, standing by the front gate to Daley Farmhouse with a welcoming grin on his face. His thatch of brown curly hair has been arranged artfully by a make-up girl, and he’s even had a bit of foundation applied to take the glare off his forehead in the morning sun.

‘Good morning everyone,’ he says brightly down the camera lens, with practised ease. ‘I’m Gerard O’Keefe. Welcome to a very special live episode of
Great Locations
, coming to you from the gorgeous Hampshire countryside. You may have seen our previous features on the renovations of the Daley Farmhouse. We’re here today to catch up on its progress, and speak to everyone behind the reclamation of this wonderful Victorian property from its previously derelict state.’

Gerard then does something that should be impossible. He starts to walk backwards down the garden path as if it’s the most natural and normal thing in the world. It’s like he’s just beamed down from a strange and alien civilisation where they all walk backwards, to teach us how to do it before the galactic invasion force arrives to subjugate the planet.

Not only does he effortlessly walk backwards, he also carries on talking about the farmhouse renovation without missing a beat. By the time he reaches Danny and me, he’s neatly summed up the project so far and is already into his introduction of us both.

‘Hayley and Danny were left the house in their grandmother’s will, and they really are honouring her with such a wonderful renovation of the property. But let’s allow them to speak for themselves, shall we?’ Gerard parks himself next to me, and the camera looms large. ‘How do you feel the renovation is coming along Hayley?’

I stare down the camera lens. A million bored housewives and unemployed people stare back at me. ‘Er—’

Oh god, no. Please, please,
no
.

Don’t let my brain freeze up before I’ve even got one constructive syllable out of my stupid mouth.

Come on Hayley, say something!

‘It’s, it’s going quite well!’ I spit out triumphantly. A little too triumphantly, as the words are accompanied by a fair amount of unwanted spittle. I now look like a raving madwoman to the housewives and the jobless, but this is still preferable to looking like a terrified, frozen statue. ‘I’d say it’s all going according to plan.’ I consider this statement for a moment, and feel a twinge in my left foot. ‘More or less,’ I add.

‘Excellent!’ Gerard beams, happy that I’ve not let the nerves get the better of me. ‘And you, Danny? How do you feel right now?’

By the look on his face as he stares over at Mischa, I’m going to say
horny
.

‘Danny?’ Gerard repeats, his voice a tiny bit strained.

‘Hmmm?’ my brother eventually responds.

‘How are you feeling about the project’s progress?’ Gerard repeats.

Danny composes himself and deliberately stares at the TV presenter, ignoring any female architectural assistants who may be in the vicinity. ‘I’m happy, I think. It looks more like a house than a bombsite now,’ he tells Gerard.

‘Yes, indeed it does!’ Gerard exclaims. ‘Our viewers can see for themselves just how much work has been done since we were here last. You’re all doing a fantastic job.’ He holds up a hand. ‘But before we get into the renovation itself, let’s find out a bit more about the both of you. How did you come to inherit this place, and what made you decide to fix it up?’

And so we’re into the chat that Gerard has been coaching us on for the past couple of weeks. He did such a good job that we manage to rattle through the background to the project pretty quickly, and before you know it we’ve finished, and the loyal viewing audience are now up to date – whether they necessarily want to be or not. You’ll be amazed to discover that I neglect to mention the nail gun through the foot, and Danny doesn’t talk about shitting into a wooden box. I’m all for getting the details right, but let’s not go too bloody far.

‘Well, that’s a fascinating story, Hayley and Danny, thanks for telling us all about it.’ Gerard looks back down the camera again. ‘You heard Hayley mention the architect on this project, Mitchell Hollingsbrooke. We’ll be catching up with him shortly, but first, let’s make our way over to where the building team are waiting to speak to us.’

And with that, Gerard is off over to where Fred and crew are standing around a cement mixer looking like they’re about to be brought up in front of a firing squad. Danny and I trail along behind Gerard like the good little puppies we are, being careful not to trip over on the uneven muddy ground as the camera follows all three of us.

‘Hello there!’ Gerard says to Fred, offering his hand out like he’s never met the man before.

Fred takes it gingerly and gives it a gentle shake.

‘Ladies and gentleman, please say hello to Fred Babidge and his team of brilliant builders and tradesman. They’re the ones who are bringing this lovely old house back to life, aren’t you, Fred?’

‘’Es,’ Fred says, in a barely audible voice.

It’s amazing what being on live TV will do to a person. In Fred Babidge’s case, it’s turned him from a bluff, loud cockney chancer into a seven-year-old girl starring in her first nativity play.

‘And what did you think of the project when Hayley and Dan first approached you, Fred?’

‘I liked it.’

‘Sorry? What was that?’

‘I thought it was a good ’un.’

‘Did you?’ Gerard looks a bit worried, and Pete the cameraman is adjusting something on the camera’s microphone. This isn’t going well.

Gerard then tries to turn his attention to one of the other builders. Out of the four of them, only Spider looks like he is still able to function. But it’s frankly touch and go. His eyes aren’t quite as bulgy as the others, but he has gone a rather disturbing shade of red.

‘And what about you, Spider? What’s this farmhouse like to work on?’

‘Great!’ Spider bellows. ‘It’s a nice house!’ We’ve gone from one extreme to the other. Poor old Pete winces in pain and immediately fiddles with the microphone again.

Gerard soldiers on. ‘I bet you’re all pleased with how much you’ve managed to improve the property in the five months you’ve been working here, aren’t you?’

‘Yes! It looks much better than it did!’

‘Much better,’ Fred chimes in – barely.

‘It was in quite the dilapidated condition when you first got here, wasn’t it?’ Gerard asks them both.

‘It wasn’t great, no,’ Fred says.

Spider goes even redder. ‘Yeah! The boss is right! It was a right shit tip!’ Spider immediately realises he’s just sworn on live daytime TV and puts a hand over his mouth. ‘Oh fuck! Sorry!’ he virtually screams at Gerard.

And there we have it. Ten minutes into the show and we have our first swear words. I can now look forward to watching us all on
Points of View
in a month’s time.

Gerard physically backs away from Spider, as if the builder is about to explode. He turns to the camera and composes his face into an expression of trite apology. ‘We’re sorry for Spider’s fruity language, everyone. Builders will be builders!’

Nice attempt at saving it there, Mr O’Keefe, but I don’t think it’s going to stop the letters of complaint rolling in somehow.

‘Why don’t we have a look in the house at some of the work that’s been done?’ Gerard suggests to his vast, unseen audience. He starts to walk back towards the front door, prompting Danny and I to follow with a barely visible flick of one wrist. He’s keen to get away from the team as quickly as possible, and I can’t say I blame him that much. Asking them any more questions may either result in Fred Babidge weeing in his knickers, or Spider’s use of the word ‘cunt’ for the first time on daytime TV.

We’re on much safer ground once we’ve moved away from them and have entered the house. Gerard spends the next few minutes of the broadcast showing the audience all the improvements that have already been made to the house, and boy does he sell them
brilliantly
.

The way he waxes lyrical about the new woodwork, brickwork, plastering and the new extension, makes it sound like we’ve restored the Sistine Chapel in the middle of the Hampshire countryside.

Danny and I duly trot along behind him as he goes from one room to the next, two of the three cameramen following to provide coverage and close-ups of both us and the renovation work.

Within a few minutes Gerard has made a whistle-stop tour of the downstairs, pointing out each and every thing that he deems worthy of the nation’s attention. He’s particularly delighted with all the original features we’ve been able to retain. Nothing gets Gerard O’Keefe more excited than a newly painted ceiling rose, or a freshly sanded doorframe.

Even the basement is visited on the live TV tour of Daley Farmhouse, where Gerard takes great lengths to show off the new plastering work and concrete. I can’t say that if I were sitting at home watching this programme I’d be all that enamoured with such broad expanses of greyness, but Gerard seems convinced that it’s all very fascinating, so who am I to argue?

Eventually, we do make it upstairs, after Gerard has made a comment about the lovely new bannister on the way up.

‘So this is the master bedroom,’ he says, arms open wide as he goes in. ‘And what’s been done in this room, Hayley?’

Oh blimey, it’s my turn in the sun again. I’d better be thorough with my answer.

‘Er . . . All the floorboards have been replaced after the old ones were destroyed by woodworm. The windows have all been done as well. We managed to salvage a lot of the frame up here, which is nice. The ceiling’s been plastered, all the skirting boards have been replaced, the whole room’s been rewired, and the fireplace has been restored as well.’ I look around the room, which, while nice and clean now, is a tad on the bland side. ‘Obviously it still needs decorating,’ I add, just in case anyone at home thinks we’re going for the grey plaster look up here too.

Gerard points to his left. ‘And what about the en suite?’ he asks.

Bugger! I completely forgot about the new en suite. That’s fine though, it’s only the biggest job we’ve done in here.

I am an idiot.

I splutter for a moment as Gerard points towards the new doorway that leads to the bathroom we’ve put in.

‘We’ve had to take some space from the main room,’ Danny interjects, saving me my blushes. ‘But the bedroom is still very big anyway.’

‘It certainly is,’ Gerard agrees, obviously happy that Danny is contributing something useful at this stage.

‘The plumbing’s not all done yet, so most of the actual en suite stuff like the shower and loo haven’t gone in, but once it’s finished, it’ll be cracking,’ Danny continues.

‘Absolutely!’ Gerard says, his enthusiasm infectious.

I somehow doubt most of the audience back home will be quite as enthusiastic. After all, they’re being treated to a tour of a house that isn’t finished. If I had a penny for every time one of us has said ‘when it’s finished’ today, I’d probably have enough to pay my licence fee for the month.

‘Has the chimney been cleared?’ Gerard asks, walking over to the fireplace, with Pete the cameraman in tow. His colleague is loitering by the doorway, filming Danny and me. I hope he’s getting my good side – if I have one, that is.

‘I don’t know,’ Danny responds to Gerard’s question. ‘Hayley?’

Oh thanks, bruv. Put me on the spot, why don’t you? ‘Um. As far as I know, it hasn’t been.’ I give Gerard a pained look. ‘Does it need to be?’

Gerard shrugs. ‘It depends on if you want to use it.’ He bends down in front of the fireplace and sticks his hand up the chimney breast inside. ‘Let’s have a feel, shall we? I should be able to tell if it’s blocked up or not.’

What follows is a few excruciating seconds of dead air as Gerard temporarily forgets his role as beaming TV presenter, in favour of enthused chimney prospector. I am acutely aware that camera number two is still filming me, and is likely transmitting my rather gormless expression to the world at large as I watch Gerard having a rummage.

‘Aha!’ he says triumphantly. ‘I’ve got my arm up over the damper, and there’s definitely something blocking the way here on the smoke shelf.’

Is there really Gerard? Well, thanks for that.

‘Got it!’ he exclaims happily and pulls his arm back. With it comes what appears to be a large, old, yellow floral curtain, bundled up. Inside the bundle something is making a metallic clanking sound.