‘I just don’t think this is necessary, that’s all,’ I said, throwing my hands into the air.
‘Well of course you don’t!’ Harriet protested. ‘You like how things are at the moment!’
‘It’s a perfectly functional staircase!’
‘It’s boring!’
‘Things are allowed to be boring,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Plenty of wonderful things are boring.’
‘Oh?’ she raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ I said, huffily, my mind racing for examples. ‘Trains… the postal service…’
‘A brand new glass balustrade?’ Harriet interjected. ‘Oh wait, sorry, that’s what we’re about to get.’
‘I simply won’t!’ I said, stamping my foot.
‘Did you just stamp your foot?’
‘I did!’ I said, stamping it again for emphasis.
‘Very mature,’ she snorted.
‘Thank you.’
We stood in silence for a moment, arms folded, unable to look at one another.
‘But why do you want it so badly?’ I caved first. ‘What makes it so special?’
‘I’d just…’ she trailed off, took a deep breath. ‘I’d like there to be something nice in my house when I walk through the door.’
‘I could be that!’ I said with a wry smile. ‘I’ll greet you at the door every day!’
‘Nice try,’ she said, though a small grin betrayed her. ‘You’re usually there anyway.’
‘It’s true,’ I laughed.
‘I just want something nice,’ she repeated softly.
‘Just think about the cost,’ I pleaded. ‘What if there’s an accident with the grandkids? How expensive is glass balustrade installation in the Melbourne area these days?’
‘I think it’s worth it!’ Harriet said enthusiastically. ‘We can make it work.’
I sighed deeply, turned back to look at our old (and admittedly, boring) balustrade.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘You win.’
‘Thank you, love,’ she said, sweeping forward to wrap her arms around me.
We swayed like that for a while.
‘Wait a minute,’ she eventually broke the hug. ‘We don’t have any grandkids.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I nodded. ‘I forgot to mention – Sarah called.’
Her eye briefly twitched as she glared up at me.
‘What?!’