Tilly's End-of-Terrace

'And within one's budget,' Tilly said.

'I don't know that you have too much to complain about,' I said. 'Your mother chipped in.'

We had both ordered a glass of the house white wine: a crisp Italian. 'Here's to your mother,' I said. 'Unfortunately, I never got the chance to meet her. But if people speak as well of me when I'm gone as they do of your mother, I shall be very happy.'

'To Mum,' Tilly said.

We drank our toast and then, for some reason, I glanced across the road. And there was Murray. He was looking our way. And he was looking far from happy. I was about to say something, but I didn't. Why spoil a perfectly pleasant lunch?

When I arrived at the job, just after 7:30 the following morning, Murray was already waiting for me.

'I'm not at all happy about the amount of time you're spending with my fiancée.'

'Your fiancée?'

'Matilda. Yes. I've told her that she needs to watch out for you conniving white-van-man types.'

'Well, my van's blue,' I said. 'Also, strictly speaking, it's not actually a van. It's an SUV. And as for "spending time" - as you put it - you may have noticed that we are renovating Ms Green's house. A bit of contact between contractor and client is pretty much essential.'

'Huh,' Murray said - which seemed to be his stock answer for whenever he didn't have a real answer. 'Don't think that I didn't notice you in that café with her.'

'Ah, yes. The Black Cat. You should try it sometime. It's very good. The devilled chicken sandwich in particular.'

'I am not without influence in this town,' Murray said. 'If you don't stop making a nuisance of yourself, you may find it difficult to find further work. Also ... I have told Matilda that she should get a detailed invoice for your work, detailed down to the last screw and ... well ... whatever.'

'Very wise,' I said. 'Now ... if you've finished, I really should go and get on with some work.'

Murray opened his mouth as though he was about to say something else, but no words came out.

The kitchen cabinets were delivered mid-morning and, by mid-afternoon, the carcasses were assembled and installed, and Mo was making a start on fitting the doors and the drawer fronts.

'The timber worktops should be here any moment,' I said.

Mo nodded. 'Well, the sooner the better. If we can get the countertops fitted this afternoon, I can get the tiling completed tomorrow morning.'

'The gasfitter is going to be here about eight,' I told him.

Mo nodded again. And smiled. 'Fingers crossed. It's all coming together, boss.'

In fact, the gasfitter was waiting for us when we arrived on Saturday morning. And when Tilly came by at about 10:30, to see how things were going, the kitchen was looking like a proper kitchen.

'This is brilliant,' she said.

'A bit of painting left to do but, yep, looks pretty good.'

We took a tour of the house, and when we were out of the hearing of Mo and Dave, she took me to one side. 'I understand that you had another visit from Murray,' she said.

'He did drop by,' I said. 'But he didn't stay for long.'

'I'm sorry,' Tilly said. 'I should have been firmer with him. He seemed to think that I was going to wake up one morning and think that he was the man of my dreams. But that was never going to happen. I hope I have now made that abundantly clear to him. Hopefully, that's the last you will see of him.' And then she gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

By Tuesday night we had pretty much done everything that needed to be done and, first thing on Wednesday, Tilly came around and, armed with my trusty notebook, we set out to make a snagging list. Except there weren't really any snags.

'Are there usually?' Tilly asked.

'Umm ... I think that it depends on the client,' I said. And she gave me another little kiss on the cheek.

By midday, we had sorted out the few little snags we did find and I handed Tilly the keys to her top-to-toe renovated house. 'You can move in,' I said.

'I can.'

'And do you need a hand?'

'I've treated myself,' she said. 'For the first time in my life, I have hired a proper moving company. But I would like to have a glass of wine - or beer - and a few nibbles to launch this new ... umm ... enterprise. Well ... you know what I mean. I thought I'd invite a few of the neighbours, too - in memory of Mum. Give them a chance to satisfy their curiosity. You know how neighbours are. If you and Mo and Dave would like to drop by any time after four o'clock on Friday that would be great.'

It was a cheerful little gathering. Barry, the door painter who lived next door, was there; as were Nora and Jimmy whose backyard backed onto Tilly's. Both Nora and Jimmy were keen gardeners, and they offered to help make Tilly's backyard a bit more glamorous. Robert and Michael were another couple of neighbours. 'A couple of Mum's "gentleman friends",' Tilly told me with a smile.

Tilly had also invited Marney, her literary agent, and Gillian, her solicitor. It seemed that she hadn't invited her brother or sister. 'I suppose I shall have to have them over at some stage,' she said. 'But that can be for another day.' And she hadn't invited Murray.

I'm not sure if Tilly had told the others 'four 'til six' but, by about 6:15 everyone had said their farewells, leaving just Tilly and me.

'Well, that went very well,' she said. 'I think everyone liked my new house.'

'What's not to like?' I said. 'I can't believe how quickly you've managed to put your mark on it.'

Tilly smiled. 'I can be quite determined when I put my mind to something. As you are about find out.' And next thing I knew, her champagne-flavoured lips were all over me. Not that I was complaining.

And then she was gathering up our champagne glasses. 'You haven't seen my bedroom now that it has furniture in it, have you? I think you'll like,' she said, taking me by the hand. 'Oh, and I think that you may as well bring what's left of the champagne too. We could be some time.'