Magic Lamp

"Ouch. They're what? Sixty years out of date? I'm surprised you haven't electrocuted yourself, or set the bungalow on fire."

Margaret looked sad. She put her mug of tea down.

"I had hoped I would be able to have a week or two's work here, Peter. I'm not sure now. There is little point in cleaning if so much building work needs doing first. I couldn't plug my magic vacuum in a round pin socket..."

"I've got adaptors..."

"But my vacuum is powerful, more powerful than the EU would allow to be sold now. The drain on your ancient wiring might be more than is safe. It could overheat or blow the fuzes. I suppose you still use fuze wire?"

"Of course. I have to replace fuze wire several times a year."

Margaret looked even more worried.

"We need Ian's opinion about the wiring before I plug anything in. You don't need me -- yet."

"I do, Margaret, I do." I retorted.

"For what? I can't use my vacuum cleaner. I can't make this kitchen clean."

"I need help for other things as well, Margaret. Come and see around the bungalow and I'll explain."

She looked puzzled but she followed me into the dining room. She was horrified at the piles of stuff cluttering the floor, the tables, the chairs and every surface.

"How could I clean in here?" Margaret protested. "I can't see the floor."

"Exactly. What I need you to do is go through this lot, sort it out into recycling, rubbish, charity shop and a small remainder for me to possibly keep. If I do it? I'd keep ninety percent. I want someone unattached to this stuff to be brutal with it. If it's gone I won't miss it. If I start sorting..."

"But I might throw something valuable away, Peter."

"You won't. I trust your judgement, Margaret."

"You do? You'd trust me with your possessions?"

"Yes. I know you will be ruthless but sensible."

Margaret looked at me as if she was seeing me for the first time.

"No one since Don has trusted my judgement that much, Peter."

"I do."

Margaret hugged me. I hugged her back.

"I'll do my best for you, Peter. Your trust is..."

"Helping you, perhaps?"

"More than that. It makes me feel that someone values me. Losing my job made me feel useless, fit only to retire. Knowing you need me made me feel better. If I couldn't clean your house because of the wiring I was getting depressed again. I need to work and to be wanted."

"You are wanted, Margaret. I want your skills for weeks. This is just the first room. The rest are worse."

"Worse?"

"Yes. I can barely open the doors to the spare bedrooms."

"OK. I get the message. I'll start in here and work my way to other rooms."

The door bell rang. Ian had arrived. We sat down with more tea. He agreed with his mother that the kitchen was beyond mending. The three of us agreed that the urgent need was rewiring the whole bungalow. He went to look at the electricity meter and switchboard.

"You've got a new mains supply," he said accusingly when he came back into the kitchen.

"Yes. The electricity company wanted to bury a cable across my land for the new housing estate. I agreed in exchange for a new mains supply from that cable."

"That makes it easier for me. I can start with a new main board to the latest standards and work around the house gradually."

"When could I use my vacuum cleaner safely?" Margaret asked.

"If I go to the warehouse in a hour? I could have a temporary socket installed by four o'clock."

"So soon?" I asked.

"Yes, Mr Andrews."

"Call me Peter, please."

"OK, Peter. As a new self-employed builder I can't afford the materials and just the re-wiring is going to take weeks. The material cost? A few hundred pounds. My time? I don't know how long it will take. I've got no idea how to estimate that. If I get it wrong I could be out of pocket or you could pay too much."

"OK, Ian. How about this for a deal? I'll pay for all materials and tools if you need them, and say two hundred and fifty pounds a week for your time. That sound OK to you?"

Ian and Margaret looked shocked. Ian looked at his mother before replying.

"That would be generous, Peter, and I could start today."

"OK. Work out what you need to buy and I'll give you cash to buy it."

Ian went off around the house with a reporter's pad and pencil I had given him.

"Can you afford two hundred and fifty pound a week and materials, Peter?" Margaret asked.

"Yes, Margaret. I wouldn't have said it if I couldn't. It's not two hundred and fifty pounds a week. I have to pay you as well. I'll make you the same offer as I made Ian -- two hundred and fifty pounds a week for your time, and your costs for materials and tools. Do you accept?"

"Peter! That's generous!"

"Is it? What were your cleaning company charging their customers? Not what they paid you, but the invoices they sent."

"Oh. Yes. Thirty-five or forty hours a week would come to more than two hundred and fifty pounds but I lost so much time travelling between customers. I never did thirty-five paid hours even in a busy week."

"And now you are a one-woman cleaning company, Margaret. Here you won't have travelling time except at the start and end of the day. You could walk here if you left your magic vacuum in the bungalow overnight. Do you accept?"

"Yes, Peter. Thank you."

"Both of you are a bargain for me but you should charge more when you are established in your businesses. Working for me would be a start for you. If you get other work? I can wait."

I laughed.

"This bungalow has been waiting years for me to do something about it. If either of you get other jobs that mean the work here takes longer? The improvements here will still be done -- eventually."

Ian came back into the kitchen.

"I've listed what I want to start on the rewire, Peter. I think the materials for the next few days will cost one hundred and fifty pounds. Is that OK? The rest will be smaller sums because I'll have done the main board. Do you want switched sockets?"

"Switched sockets? Yes. Doubles would be good and many more sockets than now."

"That's not difficult. Some rooms have only one socket now. But how many and where can wait. I need to get the main board fitted and some temporary sockets for Mum."

I gave Ian two hundred pounds in cash. He went off to get what he needed.

"I'll start on the dining room, Peter. Do want to discuss the things I sort out?"

"No."

I gave Margaret some black rubbish sacks and some tie-on labels.

"If it is rubbish just tie the bag up. Recycling needs sorting. You know what the Council's criteria are. Label the recycling and charity shop bags please."

"What are you going to do, Peter?"

"A quick wash load while I've still got electricity. When Ian comes back he'll cut the power off. We can still make tea or coffee with the kettle on the gas stove."

+++

It was an hour before Ian returned. He explained that the store man had given him some valuable advice about how to rewire in stages. Until now Ian had only put wiring into new builds or new extensions.

Soon I heard drilling noises from the cupboard under the stairs. Half an hour later Ian told us that the power would be off for about an hour. Margaret came into the kitchen with the dining room's filthy net curtains.

"I'm going to drop these in the sink with some detergent, Peter. It's too dark in the dining room with them up. They might not come clean. In the meantime I'm cleaning the inside of the windows. The outside of the glass is OK."

"The window cleaner comes once a month," I said. "He was here last week."

"Does he complain about the state of your windows?"

"Yes. He thinks I should double-glaze them because some frames are rotten."

"You should. Water has been coming through the woodwork."

By the end of that day Margaret had sorted about a quarter of the dining room. She asked me to buy a shredder for all the personal papers that were years out of date. I gave Ian some more cash to buy a heavy duty one.

+++

Each evening I was surprised how much work had been done. Before they left we sat down with coffee and discussed what to do next and how I would arrange the rooms of the bungalow. We had decided that the disused scullery should be my finds processing room. It would have good lighting and power, a range of work surfaces, cupboards and shelves, and a double sink. But I would wash sand off in a set of cheap plastic bowls.

By Friday evening the improvements were starting. Ian had finished rewiring in the cupboard under the stairs. He had run some temporary cables down the hall. Margaret could use her magic vacuum cleaner safely.

All three of us had to divert our efforts to the scullery and clear it out. I had never used it except for storage because there was no lighting and no power in there. Ian rewired the scullery first. He put eight double sockets around the walls above what would be work surface height and two long strip lights on the ceiling. We made it into a temporary kitchen with a new electric kettle, a microwave and a table top cooker sitting on the old dining table. It already had an old stainless steel sink with better plumbing than the kitchen. It had been hidden under piles of junk.

I had paid both of them for a full week's work despite their protests they had only started on Tuesday. But they had worked until eight o'clock each evening. I invited them to go to the pub for an evening meal cooked by Mervyn and Diane's new cook. I would pay. Margaret accepted. Ian declined. He wanted to see his girlfriend and make plans for the weekend. He wouldn't be working tomorrow but Margaret would do a morning's cleaning. She wanted to remove the plaster dust caused by Ian chasing conduit into the walls. It was still in the air when he had finished for the day.

"Thank you, Margaret," I said as we sat down with drinks waiting for the meal. We were side by side on a bench seat in a quiet corner.

"Thank you, Peter. I have enjoyed working in your bungalow. And thanks for the steam cleaner you bought for me."

"You needed it, just as Ian needed the router to cut through the plaster. I'm sure both of you will need more equipment before the bungalow is finished."

"We might. Which reminds me, Peter. The local auction is next Wednesday and they have tools Ian and I could use."

"Why not? I'm taking next week off so I can dump rubbish and recycling. You two have filled the garage to the roof. All three of us could go to the auction."

"You're sure? We're costing you a lot of money."

"I'm sure. I'll still need Margaret's skills even after the bungalow is renovated. I was never good at cleaning."

"Other people seem to want my skills, and Ian's too. Ian's been asked to put in two new bathroom suites. I've had two requests this week for monthly cleans."

"Then do them. You two need to build customer bases, not just me. If you work for others as you are doing for me, then your businesses should be successful."

"No complaints about our work, Peter?"

"Not about your work, but..."

"But, Peter? What but?"

"Last weekend in this pub? You claimed me. Since then? Nothing. I don't feel claimed by Margaret."

"That was a joke. I was teasing Diane..."

Margaret stopped speaking and looked straight at me.

"You're serious, Peter, aren't you? You want me, not just as Margaret the cleaner."

"If you'll consider me, I would be honoured, Margaret. I liked being claimed by you."

"So it's not just my magic vacuum cleaner you want?"

"It goes with my magic lamp. At least your vacuum cleaner works."

"That reminds me, Peter. Ian had an idea about your lamp. He thinks he could make it work."

"That would be nice but it's unimportant now. Margaret is more important to me than any lamp or cleaner."

"OK, OK. I get your message loud and clear, Peter. If that's what you want, and you're sure, you are claimed officially. This meal is our first date. Satisfied now?"

"Satisfied, Margaret? More like delighted, ecstatic..."

I might have said more but Margaret's lips silenced me.

I was so pleased that Margaret had claimed me properly that I didn't really notice what I ate. We talked all that evening. About what? I don't know. I was just enjoying Margaret's company.

At the end of the evening I walked her home. She hugged me on her doorstep and kissed me frequently. I walked back to my bungalow wholly unaware of the rain. Margaret would be back with me tomorrow morning.

+++

My dream that night had Margaret kissing and hugging me. The magic lamp was shining brightly above our heads. I woke up feeling that I had a future, a bright future.

Margaret didn't do as much cleaning as she intended to on Saturday morning. For some of the time she was sitting on my lap at the kitchen table. We were talking and kissing. She agreed to go out with me for Sunday lunch at a restaurant about twenty miles away.

She finally left the bungalow late afternoon. She insisted that her work that day was already covered by this week's payment, or else I might have been paying her for kisses.

On Monday morning it was obvious to Ian that I and his mother were more than just friends. He was very tactful, making sure that he didn't walk in on us without warning. He was happier too. His girlfriend had been worried that he wouldn't get work now he had left Smith and Jones. I was willing to let him go to fit a bathroom on Thursday and Friday. He would be doing another one the following week. They would be practice before he attempted to replace my bathroom that needed much more major work. Once that was done we would partition the master and second-best bedrooms to make en-suite bathrooms.

The three of us went to the auction on Wednesday. I did the bidding for them on several lots of tools for Ian and some heavy duty cleaning machines for Margaret. The total cost was about a tenth of the retail price for barely used tools. Ian had to collect his van to transport everything I had bought for them.

Margaret and I were alone together on Thursday. Our intention was to plan what building work Ian should do next while we continued to sort the collection of stuff in one of the bedrooms. But after the first break for coffee we decided to move the bed in the main bedroom. The idea was to see what space would be left after the new en-suite partition had been built. Ian and I had marked the floor with the line of the partition and the sizes of the bathroom equipment.

We dragged the bed sideways revealing the accumulated dust and fluff underneath. Margaret's magic vacuum cleared that in less than a minute. She took it outside to empty it yet again. I sat on the bed looking around. There would still be ample space for a new built in wardrobe across one side of the room, the dressing table, and the chest of drawers on which the still-boxed magic lamp was sitting.

I walked across to the chest of drawers. I opened the box, took out the magic lamp, shut the box again and put the magic lamp on top.

"You love that magic lamp, don't you, Peter?" Margaret said from the doorway.

"Yes, Margaret, not so much for what it is but for what it has changed in my life."

"It's changed my life too..."

Margaret stood beside me. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She snuggled against me.

"If I didn't feel dusty from cleaning," Margaret said, "being in a bedroom with you might give me ideas."

She turned her head to look at me.

"You've had those ideas too, haven't you?"

"Yes, Margaret, I have. But I've been afraid to express them. I didn't want to go too far too soon."

"Too soon? It might be less than a fortnight since I claimed you, Peter, but I've wanted you for over two years."

"You have? I didn't know."

"You found those gold coins about two years ago. When you were drunk from celebrating you wanted to kiss Diane and me. We wouldn't let you. You accepted that. Do you remember?"

"I don't remember much about that evening, Margaret. I know I tried to kiss both of you. Diane kept reminding me for a couple of weeks."

"What impressed me about your behaviour when drunk was that you remained polite. You accepted our refusals. There was something else you might not remember..."

"Which is?"

"You wanted to kiss me first. You walked past Diane, tried to kiss me, and when I said no, only then did you try to kiss Diane. You went for me first. That shocked Diane. She was used to being a man's first choice. But I was yours. From that evening until now I've wanted you for myself. After Don you are the only man who has chosen me and not my beautiful sister."

"I didn't know I wanted you, Margaret. Apart from that evening I've been too oblivious to too much, just living a boring existence week in and week out."

"And now I've claimed you, and you want to be claimed by me."

Margaret's arm squeezed around my waist.

"And tonight, when we have finished work, I'm claiming you -- on this bed."

"Margaret!"

"Shut up, Peter!" Margaret's kiss emphasised her order.

+++

That night Margaret claimed me, on that bed in a very clean bedroom.

The cleaning and building work will take many more weeks before my bungalow is renovated as it should be. Either before it is finished or soon afterwards Margaret and I will be married. Mervyn will be my Best Man. Diane will be Margaret's Matron of Honour. Ian will give his mother away.

Ian's present to his new step-father will be a rewired Magic Lamp with a candle-flame bulb operated by batteries. It will have pride of place in our bedroom for the first night that Peter and Margaret are husband and wife.

The Magic Lamp might not be Roman, might have been a failure in Paris, but it did its magic for us.

The End.

Author's Note: The Magic Lamp doesn't exist. Like the whole story, it is fictional. You can't find one online.