It took her two hours' hard graft to get the fridge cleaned and repaired to her satisfaction, then came the moment of truth. She plugged it in and switched on. No fuses blew; nothing shuddered to a halt. Instead, a gentle and satisfying hum filled the kitchen.
"Dan, I've got the fridge working!" she called through to the lounge, where he was sprawled in front of the TV watching the football.
"That's great, Kath," he called back, trying to sound interested and failing.
With a sigh, she turned off the fridge and trundled it through to the hall. Tomorrow it would have pride of place in the Office.
Kathy finished putting the milk cartons into the fridge, closed the door and stood back, feeling a glow of righteous satisfaction.
"That new?" came Josie's voice.
Kathy turned and gave the middle-aged woman a grin. "Came in yesterday. Fixed it myself last night."
"Yeah? Heard you had to get your hands dirty for once."
"She'll hit you if you make cracks like that," warned Dan, who was rooting through a cupboard for a can of 3-In-1 oil.
Josie grinned at Kathy. "She can try." Everyone knew that furniture moving had given the already formidable Josie muscles more suited to a brickie.
Kathy made a face and sat down at the table that doubled as the Office desk.
"Back on admin today, then?" asked the older woman sympathetically.
"Someone's got to answer the phones." Kathy pulled the reconditioned typewriter towards her and fed in a fresh sheet of paper. "And there's the paperwork on furniture sold and brought," she said. "It's a dirty job ... etc. etc."
"Talking of which," said Josie, glancing at the schedule pinned to the notice board, "I see I'm down for delivering beds to the High Street hostel."
"More beds? Got to hand it to the young homeless," said Dan, holding up the oil triumphantly, "they certainly know how to break beds."
"That's not the reason," said Kathy. "The warden says numbers are up. They're squeezing more beds into the existing rooms."
Josie took a last look at the schedule. "Right. Better get on. And save some of that milk for me, will you, Kathy?"
"Will do."
"I'll be in the warehouse all morning, if anyone's interested," said Dan.
It was one of the Project's busier mornings. By the time lunchtime arrived, Kathy was glad of the break. She put her feet up on the table, and ate her lunch--bacon sandwiches today. The peace and quiet didn't last long. She heard faint footsteps and voices, getting louder, then the door burst open and in came Dan, Josie and Ralph.
"Phew, but it's hot out there," said Ralph. His long blond hair was plastered to the back of his neck.
Josie's face was red and she looked uncomfortable. "Not the weather for moving furniture, that's for sure." She wiped the back of her hand across her glistening forehead. "What I'd give for some ice cream, but I guess cold milk will have to do."
Kathy, distracted by Dan's demands for bacon sandwiches, murmured, "Help yourself to what's in the fridge." Then Josie's pleased exclamation caught her attention, and both she and Dan turned to see what had caused it.
"Fudge ice cream!" said Josie. "Kathy, you're a life saver."
"What?" Kathy peered over Josie's shoulder. The tiny icebox was open, and inside it, filmed with ice crystals, was a small tub of ice cream.
Josie was already reaching for it. "My favorite too. How did you know?"
"Er ... um ... it wasn't ... I didn't..."
But Josie's attention was focused on finding a spoon. Soon she was blissfully scooping ice cream into her mouth. The angry flush on her cheeks faded quickly.
"It's all right for some," said Ralph pointedly. Josie smiled and let him finish the tiny amount that remained.
Later, when Josie and Ralph had left to do a spot of sunbathing in the nearby park, Dan turned to Kathy. "Was it you who bought Josie the ice cream?"
She shook her head.
"Then who did?"
)
At the Recycled Furniture Project, discarded possessions and broken down appliances are given new life, hauled away and refurbished, to benefit the poor and needy. Kathy is delighted to discover an old refrigerator, salvaged on one of their donation runs. She fixes it up, gets it running, and installs it in their office. And that's when the strangeness begins. Who's putting the ice cream and yogurt and pickles in the old 'fridge? And how does the mystery someone know exactly what she and her co-workers are craving? Is it a kindly benefactor, or something more sinister?
