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for cleaning and
maintenance.

 
    Upstairs there were a number of guest rooms which looked like they had
not been used for decades.   The main
bathroom and kitchen were covered in cobwebs and spiders and rats and mice droppings
were everywhere.

 
    He went downstairs and sat in a small alcove in the corner.   He wondered what to do and idly started tidying
up the dirty pint glasses which were clustered there.   As a military man, Surge hated anything
untidy or out of place.   Once he had
collected the glasses and washed them, he hobbled round the bar and started to
clean up, then found a broom and swept as best he could.   He then had to take a long rest as he was
still so weak.

 
    Surge did have some help, a barman called Gary who had run the pub
for its elderly, former owner.   Gary had
explained what salary he was on, what hours he worked and what duties he was
prepared to do.   “Happy to look after the
cellar,” he’d said.   “And pull
pints.   But I don’t clean!”
    “Evidently,” thought Surge.

 
    Over the next few days whilst Gary tended the few customers Surge
set about cleaning the whole place.   Like
everything he did, he did it slowly and methodically setting himself a high
standard and not moving on till everything gleamed.   He found it therapeutic and healing both
physically and spiritually as his mind would constantly go to his memories of
Pru if he wasn’t kept busy.

 
    He sold his little house and put the money into refurbishing the pub
having local tradesmen repair the roof and re-plaster both the outside and the
inside in a beautiful off-white and as he was starting to recover, he did the
laboring for a highly skilled carpenter who rebuilt all the window frames.

 
    Upstairs which was to be his home,he
gutted the interior, brought in pest control and painted all the walls in a
silky cream with new curtains from a fabric shop in the High Street and bought an
old leather suite, sideboard and table and chairs from the monthly auction held
in the village hall.   The upstairs kitchen
was completely renovated with brand new appliances which Surge had fitted
himself, by now much recovered.  

 
    Finally he looked at the inside of the pub which he closed for a
month paying Gary to have a holiday.   He stripped
the old wooden bar then re-stained and polished it so it looked marvelous, a
mix of old and new.   The current furniture
he junked and then hired a sanding machine which after ten days of hard work
took years of grime off the solid oak floor which he then varnished and sealed.

 
    He brought in a chimney sweep and bricklayer who cleaned and then
rebuilt the beautiful large fireplaces at each end of the bar, then re-tiling
with Victorian tiles he found in a antique come tat shop, finally stocking up
an old black iron box with split logs.

 
    Next he scoured salvage yards and antique fairs bringing back an
eclectic mix of chunky wooden oak furniture and Victorian metal framed chairs
with soft velvet cushions.   The walls he
filled with wooden framed military prints and old sailing ships.   The cellar he stripped out, laying in new
pipes and refurbishing the antique pulling pumps.

 
    In the alcove he fitted a red cord carpet with an old wooden carver
chair complete with deep cushions and a mahogany 18 th Century desk
which he had picked up for song in a London market and renovated in one of the
garages.   To finish off, he bought and
hung across the entry, a red, thick coiled rope with brass ends that used to do
service in a cinema foyer.   On this he
placed a brass sign saying ‘ Reserved ’.   He pictured himself sitting here in the
evening reading his book, drinking a pint without being bothered.

 
    The place was now stunning, old and new decor mixed together, a
cross between a drinking club and a manor house.   To Surge it represented something he hadn’t
had for so many years, a home and roots.   Pru would have loved it here, he thought and