Monday 3rd
July
Just as I
thought it was all starting to settle down a bit and we could begin to relax, this
happened. And without wanting to seem pessimistic, there is always something
isn’t there? Something else always happens.
Tidying up
at Nick’s and cleaning his bathroom on a Sunday afternoon, I notice water on
the floor around the toilet pedestal. Mop it up, replace the loo roll unraveled
from its holder, disinfect everything, put the dirty cloths and towels in the
laundry basket, on to the next task. But later on I notice that there is still
water on the bathroom floor and discover that there seems to be a leak coming from the cistern. Make a mental note to call
the landlord first thing in the morning, thank my lucky stars that we have
tenants’ liability insurance, forget about it and carry on.
In the
morning it’s worse. The towels I put around the cistern and loo are sodden, so
I call the landlord. No-one answering so I leave a message. Nick and I need to
go out on some errands and we have a pleasant time in town, me pushing his
wheelchair through the pedestrian precinct in the sunshine to get his glasses
fixed. All seems well. When we get back to the flat, though, I can’t park as
there are cars and a big pick up taking up the whole forecourt area. I let Nick
out and see him talking to the landlord who is looking grave.
He’s with
the builder and plumber who maintain all his properties; we’ve already met him
a couple of times because in the first two weeks Nick pulled the sink
pedestal away from the wall which caused the first leak. (He’d pulled the towel rail
off in the first twenty four hours.) Then he did the same thing again so this time the
sink had to be boxed in to the wall.
The leak is
much worse than we first suspected and water is pouring in to the basement below. It's inches deep. Unfortunately the floor between is concrete and they can’t find the source of
the leak without taking up part of that, and probably getting in a specialist
plumber with a thermal imaging camera. They’ve called their man but he’s
working away and won’t be available until the day after tomorrow. In the
meantime the water has had to be turned off - and the power.
“Is there anywhere else your brother could go for a few days?”
Already the
worst-case scenario is being raised that if water has got significantly under
the concrete flooring and the whole thing has to be taken up, then it will mean
quite extensive repairs. Possibly involving the flat being shut down for
months. They tell me this because they think we need to know it’s a real
possibility. However, let's be optimistic, they say, and hope that the damage is not too bad.
In the meantime Nick will need to come and live at ours. Where else could he go? We haven't even got a spare room but of course he'll come to us for the night. Maybe two nights says the landlord, just to make sure things are properly dried out, and I cling to that optimistic timescale. Nevertheless, the very thought of Nick becoming suddenly homeless is a frightening prospect.
And I
suddenly see that this dream location of a flat just two minutes away, with
easy access to everything and a nice garden for the cats, has been just a tiny
hiatus in what is probably going to be a headlong decline. For all its
stresses, it’s been such a perfect place but I can’t pretend it’s going to
last.
