The tension in the car could cut with a knife as we drive to Dave's DIY. My thoughts race, trying to make sense of what Mum claims to have witnessed in the attic. I tell her I have no idea what she's talking about, but in all honesty, it feels like a dream. Even now, I feel odd, not quite myself, but there's no chance I'll be admitting that to Mum anytime soon. She's a woman who stresses about everything, and for once, I don't want to be the reason behind her furrowed brow.

I sneak a glance from the front passenger seat, side-eyeing her as she drives. She looks tense; her knuckles white as she grips the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. I hate it when she does this; it feels like I'm walking on eggshells. The question lingers; do I bother to break the tension, or do I ignore it and hope she snaps out of it soon? I choose the latter, pulling out my phone to the Pinterest board of what I hope will be my future bedroom. She casts a quick glance in my direction before returning her focus to the main street we're now on.

As the car decelerates, mum cranes her neck, searching for our destination. We must be getting close now. She pulls the car into a parallel park, fidgeting with the rear vision mirror, ensuring her smile hides the worry behind her eyes, before turning to me. "Ready?" She smiles one of those fake smiles you make during yearbook photos. I nod and exit the car, my eyes still fixated on my phone, scrolling through more decorative ideas.

"Ais?" she says. I realise I'm still standing on the curb, and she waves me to follow her into Dave's DIY. The door jingles as we enter.

As we step into Dave's DIY, the first thing that catches my eye is the overwhelming array of tools and supplies lining the walls. It's a handyman's dream come true, and I can already feel my excitement building. Mum heads straight towards the paint section, her purposeful stride indicating she knows exactly what she needs. I follow behind her, taking in all the different colours and shades on display.

We're there only a moment before a man greets us. "Audrey," he says with a grin, "I was wondering when we might see you here. Come on in."

She hesitates briefly before responding. "Hi Dave, good to see you again," she says, then turns to me. "This is my daughter, Aislinn. Ais, this is Dave." I look at her inquisitively. I have no idea who this guy is, or how she even knows him. She must read my mind though, as she clarifies my confusion. "Oh, Dave's a friend of Jakes. We met at mini golf."

"Oh," I say with a nod. That makes sense, and of course, he knows Jake; seems like everyone here does. "I should've guessed you're Jake's mate, you know, tools and all."

Dave laughs heartily at my remarks. "Very perceptive young lady you have here," he says to Mum. She smiles again, but it's real this time. "So, what can I help you two ladies with today?"

Mum lets out a small sigh, her frustration evident. "I don't even know where to begin," she says. "We wanted to choose some decorative elements for the house while we wait for the electrical and plumbing work to be completed." Dave nods, understanding the challenge ahead.

"Let's start with something simple," he suggests. "Like paint or wallpaper?" He looks between my mum and me. I pull out my phone and open my Pinterest board full of design ideas, but before I can show him, she interjects.

"Ais and I have very different ideas when it comes to decorating and design," Mum says with a wry smile, and I catch Dave smirking in response. She goes on, "I was hoping to preserve the historical and vintage atmosphere of the building, while Ais prefers a more modern and contemporary look."

Dave strokes his chin thoughtfully as he contemplates the dilemma. "I understand," he says, turning to me. "And I'm assuming you're not a fan of floral patterns, damask wallpapers, or intricate woodwork?"

"It's not that," I reply. Well, it's not only that, I should say. I huff, "I just don't want to feel like I'm living in a smelly old museum." Both Dave and mum chuckle at that, but my furrowed brow remains set in place. "Here," I say, handing him the phone, "These are the ideas I was thinking would look nice."

He accepts the phone, taking his time to really consider my ideas. I thought he might just be paying lip service to them, but I see him zoom in on different things and I know he's actually taking it all in. After a few minutes, he hands it back to me. "I think there may be a way for you both to have your design tastes fit together and still have a beautiful home."

"A compromise," Mum says. "I like the idea of that, but I'm not sure how vintage and modern fit together."

Dave leads us to a desk towards the back of the store, and we both sit down. He focuses intently on his computer screen as he types something, then turns it towards us with a smile. "Take a look," he says. "Some of our customers share pictures of their renovations on our website. This one was just completed a few months ago." He points at an old-fashioned kitchen that was transformed with a fresh coat of paint, new handles, and elegant marble countertops. Dave points out various features and explains how the owners incorporated historical elements while also incorporating modern touches.

He scrolls to another room, a lounge with vintage floral wallpaper serving as an accent to the fireplace. They painted the remaining walls in a bold and modern colour, creating a striking contrast. The furniture is a mix of old and new - high-back chairs placed alongside a modern couch. I admire the balance and how the modern colours are drawn out from the vintage wallpaper. We could probably do something similar in both the foyer and dining room.

"Hmm, interesting," I remark, intrigued by the idea. "What about bathrooms?" Mum nods in agreement, happy to explore my suggestion.

Dave scrolls further and brings up a picture of a bathroom. It's very similar to the one from Maggie's B & B. "Ooh, I love that," mum says approvingly. Finally, we've found something we agree on.

"I like that too," I add. "Maybe we can do something similar?"

"Yeah, I think we have a winner for the bathroom at least," mum says decisively.

"Well," Dave grins, "This is actually one of Jake's creations."

"Really?" both mum and I say in unison.

Dave nods. "You've got a secret weapon helping you out, ladies. Honestly, his talent is wasted in this small town." Interesting, it seems Jake's been keeping the extent of his contracting skills hidden, and I wonder why that is exactly.

We continue to browse through ideas on the computer, with Dave bringing out sample books for us to compare colours and styles. We're making progress, and I'm certain mum's over the moon since there's no way we'd have been able to do this ourselves.

After a while, we've accumulated a large pile of paint brochures, colour swatches, wallpaper samples, and printed photos that have inspired our vision. Dave rummages through a drawer and pulls out a crumpled plastic bag, stuffing everything inside until it's almost bursting at the seams.

Dave narrows his eyes as he considers something else. "I just had an idea," he says to mum. "Is all the old furniture still in that mansion?"

She gives him a strange smile. "Actually, yes, it is. But it's all worn out now. The seats are sunken, and the fabric is brittle and decaying. I was planning on throwing it all away."

Dave looks horrified at the thought. "Throw it away? No, don't do that. It'll cost a fortune to replace everything." He pauses before adding, "Instead, maybe you could have the wooden furniture - chairs, bed frames, tables, etc. - checked to see if they're still sturdy and functional. If they are, then perhaps you could try some DIY upholstering on them."

"Wow, that honestly hadn't even occurred to me," mum remarks.

"Me either," I chime in. "I didn't even know that was a thing."

"Well, it would take a fair bit of work to sand and stain or paint them all, but it would save you a bucket of money, and," he raises his eyebrows in excitement, "This is the best bit. You can choose what fabric you want - colour, texture, print, whatever, however you want, to make a statement. Imagine a re-varnished high-backed lounge chair but with a twist of modern colour or pattern."

"Interesting," mum says. "Do you have some samples to look at?"

Dave furrows his brow. "Unfortunately, we don't get many requests for upholstery fabric. But I have some brochures and there's also a website you can browse through. And if there's something specific you want, we can order it for you." He walks over to a bookshelf behind his desk and pulls out a thick paperback book, dusting it off before handing it to mum.

She smiles. "Just a spot of light reading, huh?"

Dave laughs. "It's mostly pictures."

"Well," mum says, "Thank you for everything. You've been so helpful, truly." She turns to me. "We'd better get back. We've got quite a lot of things to decide."

"Agreed. But mum, how are we going to keep track of all our choices? Should we get a pin board or something?" She agrees, and we make our purchase before heading back to the car.

"Mansion or cabin?" mum says,

"Cabin, for sure."

Once back at Jake's, mum and I set up a workstation in the lounge room, the pin board front and centre of our deliberations. We scatter brochures and paint swatches atop the coffee table, as well as the floor and seating that's not being used. We've just been debating the foyer walls, and it seems the agreement to combine our differing styles of design is not coming together as imagined.

She huffs in exasperation, refusing to listen to my reasoning for choosing the bold red colour. "What's wrong with it?" I ask, trying to compromise since it was part of her preferred colour scheme. "Remember, I originally wanted blue walls."

"I know, I know," she responds, pacing back and forth in the living room. "It's just... too bright? Too dark? Oh, I don't know. I just don't like it; it reminds me of blood."

I growl in frustration, feeling defeated. "I thought the red would bring out the colour of the roses you liked in the wallpaper." My voice fades as I realise I've already explained this three times, but she still won't listen. Exhausted from the day, I collapse onto the couch, papers crunching underneath me. "I give up."

As I close my eyes, the front door of the cabin creaks open and a familiar sweaty smell fills the air. It's Jake, just home from work.

"Woah," he says, "What's all this then?" He lets out an amused laugh; I ignore him, remaining on the couch, defeated.

Mum greets him, followed by a smooching sound. I've never been happier to have my eyes closed than I am right now. Mum tells him about her day with Dave, followed by the latest developments.

"Maybe you can help us decide," she says.

"Of course," Jake responds, accompanied by another smooching sound.

"Ugh, get a room, you two," I interject.

Mum's eager to share her thoughts, ignoring my remark. "So, I was thinking about using this wallpaper and paint for the foyer."

I sit up on the couch and open my eyes to check what she's showing Jake. "Oh, come on, mum," I say, rolling my eyes. "That's so outdated, it's terrible."

Jake lets out a laugh, earning a disapproving look from mum. "It's nice, isn't it Jake?" she begs.

"Well," he starts, visibly cringing. "Uh, hun..." He carefully chooses his words, trying not to offend her. I stifle a chuckle as I watch him struggle to find the right thing to say. "Maybe we should all look at it together." Nice save there, Romeo.

She smiles sweetly at him, either oblivious to or ignoring the underlying meaning behind his words. Eager to get started, I clear the coffee table and prepare for the task at hand. Jake settles in between us on the couch and leans forward to pick up a brochure filled with paint colour swatches from the coffee table.

"So, where are we starting? The foyer? The kitchen? Bathroom, perhaps?" he says.

"We agreed on the bathrooms. Here." Mum passes the printout of the bathroom photo. Jake takes it, examining it before a huge grin covers his face.

"So, this is what you both decided on?" he asks. We both nod. "I can't argue with that," he replies. "So, what's next?"

"How about the kitchen?" I chime in. Since we've had no luck with the foyer, I figure we can leave that until last.

"Great idea." He turns to mum. "Any thoughts on colour?"

Mum gives me a curious look before turning back to Jake. "I've always loved the idea of a blue country kitchen. Or white."

I raise an eyebrow, even though she's trying her best to ignore me. "Blue, huh?" I say sarcastically. I was the one who suggested using blue in the dining room, but she shot down that idea. Now, suddenly, she wants blue cabinets in the kitchen. I can't keep up with her ever-changing opinions.

"I know you recommended it before," she admits. "But for the kitchen, I really want to try a pale blue, like duck-egg blue or something similar." She hands me a paint brochure with various shades of blue and green. "This kind of colour."

"I don't have a problem with that," I give in. "But if we're going with your choice, then I get to pick the flooring and countertops. Deal?"

Mum's mouth drops on one side. She's dubious. "What did you have in mind?" It's not lost on me that she's avoided the deal, but oh well.

"I think we should keep the existing floors and try to restore them," I suggest boldly. Both Jake and Mum raise their eyebrows, surprised. They hadn't expected me to keep any of the original features, I guess. My brows convey my disappointment that they don't trust my design ideas, but I continue. "And for the countertops, I was thinking of using a white manufactured stone with scattered quartz specks to make it pop against the blue cabinets. And then for the backsplash, maybe this type of tile." I flip through the tile booklet and point to a sheet of thin white glass linear tiles.

"Wow, Ais," Jake exclaims, impressed. "You really have an eye for design."

Mum grumbles under her breath. "I suppose that could look nice."

Jake must realise she's feeling a bit put out by his compliment, or more likely, lack of compliment on her design ideas, and wraps an arm around her. We carry on making choices, learning to compromise. I concede to mum's floral wallpaper choice in the dining room, but we keep the original wainscotting, electing to re-varnish. We'll bring it all together by reupholstering the dining chairs (either a pink or green) and a new rug in a muted tone.

The ballroom is an enormous task, but it's agreed that the existing colours work perfectly, so we'll see if Dave can colour-match that paint and we'll just refresh it.

"We still need to pick out colours for the library, sitting room, and hallways and foyer," mum reminds us, slumping back into her chair. "I'm already exhausted from making these decisions; imagine how tired we'll be actually doing the work ourselves."

"Why don't we take a break?" Jake suggests. "How about dinner at Bluebirds?"

"Sounds perfect."