So I’d waited.
The following morning, I called the contractor.
He remembered the terrace immediately.
“Has something changed?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “And I need you to come back.”
I also arranged to have the side gate secured and the staircase access locked.
I wasn’t leaving another opportunity for anyone to wander upstairs.
The contractor arrived two days later.
His expression changed when he saw the damaged decking.
“You’re fortunate nobody was standing directly over the weakest section when it shifted.”
I nodded.
He inspected the terrace carefully, then showed me where the supports had deteriorated.
Some boards would need replacing.
Others could be saved.
The bench Michael had built was still sound, although its fastenings needed attention.
“Can we keep it?” I asked.
“Yes. We’ll make sure it’s secure.”
I touched the weathered wood.
Michael had sanded that bench by hand because he hated rough edges.
He’d spent an entire afternoon making the seat comfortable, then asked me to test it repeatedly.
