After Dunkirk [Discontinued]

Forty-Eight ~ Sold

***Alex's POV

"How many square feet is it?" Tommy asks and I huff out an irritated breath.

Repositioning my hand on the steering wheel, I clear my throat, "I've already told you."

"And I've told you that my memory is shit," he chuckles.

"Your uncle told me it's nine-hundred square feet. Listen, would you double check the piece of paper with the address? I know we're on the right street, but we should've found it by now."

"Uhm let's see here, it says fifty-seven Mulberry Lane. That house was fifty-five, so that must mean it's . . ."

"Found it," I say, slowly pulling the automobile into the driveway of the house with a For Sale sign in the yard and I shut off the engine. "Oh! What's the time?" I check my watch and count backwards. "Not bad at all. It's only eleven minutes away from your mum's house and that was with turning around in that cul-de-sac."

"It's a dump."

Not even Tommy can bring me down right now because I'm looking at mine and Georgina's future home.

"C'mon, let's get out. It's almost ten. He'll be here any minute now."

With Tommy's unenthusiastic groan, we get out of my automobile that I've recently purchased through the want ads. It's an older model, but after I gave it an oil change and washed it, it's like it's a brand new ride.

Things are finally falling into place in my life. I have a beautiful woman who I'm going to marry in two weeks, a steady job, a car and now hopefully a house. You are one lucky bloke, Alex.

"You can't be serious," Tommy's less-than-impressed tone doesn't bother me in the least. "This place is a dump."

"It's just cos no one's lived in it to take care of it," I defend the house's honor, taking everything in.

The one-story structure is quaint, but stands out with its weathered yellow paint color with white trim around the windows and details on the roof; nothing a little paint job can't fix, the lawn looks like it hasn't been mowed in months; nothing my push mower can't fix, and the wooden fence at the end of the sidewalk is in desperate need of repair; nothing a hammer and some nails can't fix.

It's pretty small. It's a little old. It's perfect.

"Even though it's a money pit, Uncle Irwin must like you enough to sell you his old house. He never once offered it to me."

"Do you want to move out of your mum's house where she cooks and washes your clothes for you, and into this 'dump' as you called it?" I smirk, already knowing the answer.

"Well, no, not really."

"Then quit your whining," I shove his shoulder and several honks coming from down the street capture our attention.

I immediately recognize the driver and wave to Mr. Hughes as he pulls into the driveway behind my automobile and Tommy and I walk over to meet him.

"So, what do you think?" he excitedly asks, getting out of from the driver's side.

"It's-"

"It's a dump, Uncle Irwin."

"Tommy," I nudge him with my elbow, "be nice."

"Now now, lads, I know it's not in pristine condition but with a little TLC, it could really be a stunner," he says and I agree with a nod. "C'mon, let's go check out the inside."

Tommy and I follow him up to the nice-sized porch and with every step I take, I can see what this house will look like after I make the repairs.

"It has two bedrooms, one loo, indoor plumbing that I installed, oh and a spacious backyard for all of my great nephews and great nieces to run around and play," he grins at me, opening the door. "Go on in."