Damn, it was good to be home. I really enjoyed my first year of university but severe homesickness was beginning to set in, and I was pleased to see the summer roll around so I could spend a couple of months back in the comfort of my own home.
I'd only been back a couple of days when I heard the familiar sound of my Dad's booming footsteps coming up the stairs. Luckily I wasn't doing anything untoward, just lying on my bed arguing with my girlfriend over text. It seemed all we did these days was argue and if I was honest, I was pleased to be away from her. As I hit send on a message, in walked my Dad.
"It's lovely having you home David," he began, "but me and your Mam have been talking and we're going to have to charge some rent."
I wasn't too shocked at this news. My mother had recently been made redundant so there wasn't much money coming in.
"I was talking to Jeff down the Black Bull the other day - you know Jeff? Was a boxer when he was younger? You met him at your Aunty Paula's wedding?"
"Oh yeah," I replied. I only vaguely recalled Jeff, but I didn't want my Dad to waste more time explaining how I knew him.
"Well he says he's got a few oddjobs round the house, and if you're interested he'll pay you. It's just stuff like mowing the lawn, and I think he wants his bathroom painting. Gets you some money and saves you the hassle of getting a proper job. Should I tell him you're interested?"
A job wasn't high up on my list of priorities for a relaxing summer, but with the financial situation I couldn't really say no. I told my Dad I'd head round Jeff's in the morning, and that was that.
The next morning came, and I threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. It was probably a size too small for me now, I'd gained some muscle from using the uni gym since I was last home, but it was fine for a bit of manual labour. When I was dressed, I hurried off to begin the ten minute walk to Jeff's.
It was a hot day. Really hot. The type of hot day in Britain where the smell of barbecue is rife anywhere you go, and the sound of children splashing in paddling pools fills the air. It was so hot in fact, that when I arrived at Jeff's, he was sunthing in the front garden.
Jeff was an imposing man. He was about my Dad's age, early 40s, but kept himself in much better shape. As he was sun-bathing, his top half was exposed, and he was still as ripped as I assumed he would have been in his boxing days. His big arms were covered in tattoos and the six-pack on his torso showed no signs of wilting with age. His chest was coated in black hair, which continued up to his neatly trimmed beard. That was the end of the hair however, as his head was clean shaven.
"Bloody hell, is that David!?" Jeff said, lifting his sunglasses up and standing up out of his seat. "Last time I seen you you were stick thin son!"
I chuckled and entered Jeff's garden, before walking over and shaking his hand. "Aye," I replied, "Got the university gym to thank for this," motioning down to my arms and torso. I was nowhere near the size of Jeff, but I was still chuffed at the compliment.
Jeff reached over and gave my bicep a little squeeze and a rub. "I'm impressed son!" He said, slowly moving his hand away. "Very impressed indeed."
The older man went silent for a few seconds as he stared at my body, which sent a tinge of embarrassment shooting through me. He must have caught himself quickly, as within seconds he'd opened his door and invited me inside.
"Right. First job for you son." Jeff reached into a pantry in the side of the room, and pulled out two tins of white paint. "Bathroom needs painting. Do the walls with the emulsion and the radiators with gloss. You've painted before haven't you?"
I nodded. I'd helped my Dad plenty at home and was confident I'd do a good job. Jeff got me a glass of water and told me where the bathroom was, and before long I had begun.
It was hot in the bathroom. Like, really hot. Hotter than outside. I'd only been painting for maybe 15 minutes but my shirt had soaked through with sweat, so I decided to take it off. I assumed Jeff wouldn't mind, after all, he was shirtless too, and we both knew how boiling it was. I used the shirt to wipe my brow before tossing it onto the floor.
As I carefully began painting the skirting boards, I heard the door swing open and Jeff walk in. Without saying a word, I heard the zip of his denim shorts undo, and then the unmistakeable sound of piss splashing into the toilet.
"Oh, I'll er, wait outside," I muttered, dropping the brush in the paint tin.
