Hazel's Pride

As their own removal van pulled up behind them, David got out of the car and the two removal men got out of their lorry. The three of them looked at each other in silence and then walked up to the house. Knocking on the front door, David pushed it open and cautiously entered.

‘Hello, is anyone home?’ he called.

He was suddenly aware of a squelching sound beneath his feet. Upon closer inspection, the fitted carpet was floating and water lapped around his shoes as raised voices came from the kitchen. With the two men behind him, looking as surprised as himself, they entered the kitchen. A very red faced Mr. and Mrs. Simkin, with mops and towels in hand faced them. The floor was covered with water, almost an inch deep. Even their removal men were standing in the waterlogged kitchen. Looking around, the walls were covered with dirt and water continued to drip from a light fitting in the ceiling.

‘What happened here?’ David gasped.

‘Ah Mr. Bevan. Uummm . . . we seem to have had a slight accident,’ Mr. Simkin uttered.

‘Are you moving out today?’ David asked urgently.

‘Oh yes. Unfortunately, our removal men thought I had disconnected the washing machine. As they pulled it out, with the pipes still attached to the main hot and cold water, they tore the taps from the pipes,’ Mr. Simkin explained feeling very embarrassed. There was a slight snigger from one of the men behind David.

‘In trying to shut off the water, more damage was done upstairs,’ Mr. Simkin continued to explain.

‘Upstairs?’ questioned David looking up to the wet ceiling, not believing this could have happened to them.

‘Yes, in the bathroom. The tap which we assumed shut off the hot water, didn’t. They were very stiff,’ Mr. Simkin started to explain.

‘To cut a long story short,’ Mrs. Simkin butted in, ‘the taps in the airing cupboard were wrecked. My hand-fisted husband fell into the airing cupboard and pushed a long screwdriver into the hot water tank . . . twice; God only knows how. As a result, we had forty gallons of hot water come through the ceiling and with the water from the broken pipes in the kitchen well, you can see the end result,’ she concluded and glared at all the men maliciously.

David heard sounds of muffled laughter coming from his two removal men behind him. He looked around, stern at first and then smiled with them at the state the house was in.

‘I see, but your belongings are not moved out yet,’ David said quietly wondering what would happen next.

‘My removal men had just cleared upstairs and started in the kitchen when the catastrophe happened. We called a plumber, he is here and making temporary repairs. Of course, we will pay for all the damage and the plumber’s bill. However, I don’t think our insurance will cover us for the decorations,’ Mr. Simkin explained feeling very embarrassed by the entire affair. Mrs. Simkin elbowed him in his side, trying to make the situation calmer.

‘I see. We were supposed to be buying the downstairs carpets, but they appear to be floating around at the moment,’ said David looking at the water covered floor.

At that second Wendy joined them, wondering why her feet were wet. A man wearing Wellington boots and carrying a length of copper pipe pushed his way through.

‘Ah, this is the plumber I was talking about. How is it going?’ Mr. Simkin asked him. ‘Quite well, I’ve patched the tank, but it will need a new one as you damaged the inner coil when you attacked the poor, defenceless thing,’ he joked. Lips curved, turning into smiles from the removal men but Mrs. Simkin wasn’t looking at all happy, neither was Wendy.

‘I find a little joke brightens the atmosphere in a situation like this,’ the plumber said, seeing his remarks were not welcomed.

‘Quite so,’ David remarked.

‘Can we unload anything yet?’ Wendy asked David.

‘I suppose we could get the bedroom furniture out, if we put the other stuff in the front garden for the time being,’ said John, one of David’s removal men.

‘If you have no objections,’ David looked at his watch. ‘The house is now officially ours,’ he added.

‘Of course you can. We’ll have our men continue with the loading and clear up here ourselves. The worst of it is over with now,’ Mr. Simkin reassured everyone smiling.

Just then, a large sheet of water logged plasterboard eased through its supporting nails. It dropped, swinging above them, hinged on a small piece of plaster which remained nailed to the ceiling joist. The remainder of the water, that had congregated over it fell in a downpour, just like a waterfall. Then the plasterboard gave way from its final support with a tear, falling to the floor, hitting Mr. Simkin on the head on its way down.