Forty Things to Do Before You're Forty by Alice Ross

his skin. He decided to take another shower and change his clothes before making a sandwich and settling down to write.
    Ten minutes later, Jake scratched his head. He was baffled. The water had been piping hot a few hours earlier. Too hot if anything. But now it was ice-cold. Perhaps the settings on the boiler needed adjusting. But where was the boiler? He’d searched all the obvious places but couldn’t find it. Well, there was only one thing for it. He’d have to go over to the gatehouse and ask. And if Annie was still at work, perhaps ‘George’ would be able to help. Tugging his T-shirt back on, Jake sprinted down the stairs and over to the cottage.
    The kitchen door was wide open when he arrived. He popped his head inside. Sophie sat at the table, her little face creased with concentration as she fiddled with some pink wool. Beside her was a kindly-looking lady with lily-white hair, wearing a floral skirt and sensible blouse which, despite the heat of the day, was buttoned right up to her neck. Pip lay in his basket snoring soundly. Jake allowed himself another quick glance around the room. Yet again it looked incredibly inviting, the brilliant sunlight bouncing off the yellow walls. And yet again something tightened in the area of his heart. He quickly pulled himself together and knocked lightly upon the open door.
    â€˜Hello there.’ No sooner had the words left his mouth than Pip leaped out of his basket, darted over to him and began dancing around his legs. Jake bent down and picked him up. The dog immediately began licking his face.
    â€˜Mr Sinclair,’ squealed Sophie, holding up her handiwork for him to see. ‘Look what we’re doing. It’s called finger-knitting.’
    â€˜Wow,’ said Jake. ‘That looks very complicated.’
    â€˜It is. Mrs Mackenzie showed me how to do it. She’s very clever and used to make all her own clothes.’
    â€˜Really?’ said Jake, smiling at the old lady. ‘And you are Mrs Mackenzie, I presume?’
    â€˜I am indeed,’ replied the lady in a broad Scottish accent. ‘And you must be the young man who is staying in the manor for a few weeks. Sophie has told me all about you. I hear you got a nine for your colouring-in. Quite an achievement.’
    â€˜Beginner’s luck,’ chuckled Jake. ‘Look, I’m really sorry to bother you but I was wondering if George was around.’
    Mrs Mackenzie furrowed her brow. ‘There’s no George lives here, hen. It’s just Annie and little Sophie here. I’m the babysitter.’
    â€˜Oh,’ muttered Jake, ‘I’m sorry. I just saw the cake on the bench yesterday and thought …’
    Mrs Mackenzie glanced over at the cake. ‘Oh.
That
cake. No, that’s for old George Carey. He has the florist shop next door to Annie’s. Annie brought it home to decorate so he wouldn’t see it and spoil his surprise. Now, is there anything we can do to help you?’
    Jake stared at her blankly for a few seconds. He didn’t know why but the news about the lack of a significant George in Annie’s life had made him momentarily forget why he was there. Oh. Of course. The boiler. ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ll be able to help or not. You see there’s no hot water in the manor and I can’t find the boiler.’
    â€˜It’s in the lilac room upstairs,’ piped up Sophie. ‘And it’s always breaking down. Mum says the P.S.’s really need to invest in a new one.’
    â€˜Right,’ said Jake, smiling at Sophie’s detailed knowledge. ‘Well, now that I know where it is, I can have a look and see if there’s anything obvious wrong with it.’
    â€˜Sorry we can’t be more help, dear,’ said Mrs Mackenzie. ‘Annie should be back by five if you need her.’
    â€˜Right. Thanks.’ Jake set down Pip on the floor and turned to leave. He had only taken