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1. Brass Telescope
“Right then, Henry, what’s in the box?”
The young man takes a deep breath and opens up the cardboard and bubble wrap oh-so-carefully. Dom can’t help the soft smile that crosses his face at the precise and delicate action.
“This is the telescope I used with my father as a child.”
“Oh wow, this is a beautifully made thing, isn’t it? I love that there’s a little compass set in as well.” It definitely needs a cleaning and there’s a few dents, but Dom can tell it was crafted with pride once upon a time. “Let me just get an expert over here… Steve, could you join us please? Got a job for you.”
They get through the second set of introductions and Dom prompts conversation for the cameras. “Tell us more about this telescope. How did it come to you?”
“It was my dad’s, and his father’s before that. Dad gave it to me for my fifth birthday and then proceeded to teach me to find Orion and then all the other constellations, making up stories when he didn’t know the real versions.” Henry’s words are so carefully chosen, clearly masking the deep emotions hovering just below the surface. Dom admires everyone who comes into the barn and makes themselves vulnerable, and Henry is no exception. “We must have gone out stargazing together at least twice a month all through my childhood and teenage years between his film shoots.” Oh, and now Dom realizes why Henry seemed familiar—he’s a softer, younger version of his beloved Bond-playing father, Arthur. “It was our thing—neither of my siblings cared as much as I did.” Henry’s breath hitches and Dom readies himself to offer comfort as needed. “And then, he got sick—cancer—and died the summer after my first year of uni. It became a sort of talisman after that. I carried it everywhere, trying to keep him close.”
“That must have been so difficult, especially with how young you still are.”
Henry’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, but he’s holding himself together. “Thank you. It is. I miss him all the time.”
“He always seemed like a remarkable man, a wonderful father.” Steve smiles gently at Henry, acknowledging the celebrity of it all without fawning. “How did the telescope end up like this?”
“I just graduated university two months ago and moved into a flat with my boyfriend. I was unpacking and pulled it out of the box like that, with the big dent and the crack in the compass glass—I was just devastated. I couldn’t find anyone who could repair it so I figured I’d try bringing it here.”
“Well the good news is, the body of it is in good shape,” Steve says, inspecting the telescope closely. “You’ve clearly taken good care of it over the years. I should be able to replace the glass and work the dent out so it’ll collapse and extend smoothly again with no trouble.”
“That would be amazing, thank you.”
“I’ll clean up the brass a bit as well, but I’m assuming you don’t want it looking brand new?”
Henry shakes his head. “I love that it has a history to it, that you can tell it’s been handled. I wouldn’t want to lose the evidence of my dad and his dad that are still there.”
“Of course, I’ll be sure to do enough to get it functional without losing its character.”
Dom steps in again to keep the episode moving. “Well, leave it with us Henry, and we’ll let you know when it’s done. Thanks very much for bringing it in.”
“Thank you,” Henry’s voice hitches. “I don’t know what I’d do if it stayed like this.” The young man reaches out with shaking hands to stroke the metal one last time before straightening up.
“I’ll take good care of it,” Steve promises. “And we’ll be in touch.”
Henry nods, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes and leaves the barn without another word. He’s not quite running, he’s much too polite for that, but Dom can’t help but be concerned. Zahra calls cut before sending the PA Spencer out after him with a muttered, “Keep an eye on him but don’t intrude. No cameras.”
Steve shoots Dom a worried glance, but it’s not the first time a client has been overwhelmed with emotions after dropping off an item at the barn. Just because Henry’s father was a well-known actor doesn’t mean Dom will let his reactions be treated any differently.
“Alright we still need to get footage of the two of you talking about your approach to the repair, Steve. Ready?”
He nods while the two of them get back on their marks.
“Good. Rolling. Dom, get us going.”
“Well, Steve, how big a job is this little telescope, really?” It’s nice not to have to memorize lines—Dom’s a metalworker, not an actor, but the structure of the episode never changes, so he never has to scramble for what to say.
Steve chuckles. “It shouldn’t be too bad, actually. The biggest question is if the compass still works at all behind this massive amount of spiderwebbing. If it is, I just have to source replacement glass. If it’s not, I’ll have to figure out how to remove it for repair.”
“And the big dent?”
“Easy job,” Steve scoffs. “Clocks are a lot more complicated—hammering out the brass will be a nice change of pace to manipulating tiny gears into place.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a good overview. What’s step one, then?”
“Step one is get it back to the bench and clean it up a bit so I can have a better idea of how the compass is doing.”
“Alright, I’ll let you get on with it,” Dom says, handing over the box Henry brought it in. “Shout if you need a hand.”
“Cut. Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll do your initial assessment after lunch, Steve. Dom, the AD’s got to film you doing a check in on Pamela’s trumpet with Pete, while I get the drop off reaction from Mr. Fox.”
The three of them split up for more filming and Dom can’t help but send a hope out to the universe that the telescope repair goes smoothly—and that it helps ease Henry’s obvious grief.
2. Leather Briefcase
Henry takes a deep breath and steps up to the mark on the ground. He remembers how to do this from last time, when he dropped off his telescope. At least this time he’s less emotionally fraught—no need to have a wobble behind the barn before speaking to the camera this go ‘round.
The director clears her throat and silence falls immediately. “Henry, please look at the camera and talk a bit about how you’re feeling right now.”
Ms. Bankston’s no-nonsense approach is as welcome as it was last time.
“I’m really excited about how the briefcase is going to turn out. I’m sure Suzie will do a phenomenal job. I found it secondhand while looking for something completely different. So the fact that a case made in Texas—where my boyfriend is from—found its way to a London shop felt like fate. I couldn’t imagine bringing it anywhere else to be restored. And I can’t wait to see Alex’s face when I give it to him at his law school graduation.”
Her face twitches when he says Alex’s name before smoothing over into cool professionalism once again. Interesting.
“We don’t usually get repeats into the Repair Shop, so we also wanted to check in about how the telescope is holding up.”
He probably should have expected this line of questioning, but the reminder still knocks him for a loop for a moment. The artisans had all been so kind and gentle with him when he came to pick up the telescope a year ago. Clearly, they’d all known about the actor Arthur Fox, but didn’t let that muddle their easy prompts and gave him space to get his emotions out without embarrassing himself on camera. It’s more grace than he usually gets from journalists, and sometimes even random people on the street, who think they’re entitled to Henry’s grief and his memories of his father.
As Alex would say, they fuckin’ ain’t. The memory of Alex’s indignant drawl settles Henry and he manages to find the words he needs.
“The telescope is in fine order, it looks just like I remember it when Dad and I would go stargazing. Steve did a lovely job on it. I’ve actually taken it out once or twice with my mum when I visited her in Wales. It was a little rough, emotionally speaking, but on the whole it's been a relief and a comfort having it back in working order—even if it’s just sat on the shelf most of the time. It’s like having a bit of Dad in the room.”
Henry finds himself smiling contentedly by the end of his words. Some of the crew grin back at him, clearly pleased that he’s doing so well. Spencer, who was so kind when he found Henry breaking down last year, even flashes him a thumbs up in celebration.
“Cut,” Ms. Bankston calls out. “We couldn’t have ended the segment on a better note if we’d scripted it. Thank you, Henry, someone will be in touch when it’s time to come back for pick up.”
“Thank you for having me on again,” Henry says, shaking her hand firmly. “It’s nice to be back here. Is the graduation timeline actually realistic? It’s alright if we just have to do that for the narrative of the episode and I get it back a little later.”
“Should be fine, we’ve got what, two months till then?”
“Just about that, yes,” Henry nods.
“My guess is it’ll be about a month, given the rest of Suzie’s projects during this batch of filming, but I’ll be sure to have someone reach out if it looks like it’ll be longer for whatever reason.”
“Cheers, see you in a few weeks, then.”
Henry’s got the door to his car open when Ms. Bankston calls out.
“Oh, and Henry? When you give it to Alex, tell him Zahra says ‘congrats you little shit.’”
Her grin is sharply gleeful as Henry’s jaw drops, and she disappears back into the barn before he can formulate a response.
3. Landscape Painting
Lucia can’t help but be excited for a new batch of filming. She doesn’t get called in as often as some of the other artists like Steve or Will, but it’s always a lovely coming back to the barn.
“Alright, Lucia, you know the drill by now,” Zahra says briskly. (Zahra does everything briskly, including somehow, watching paint dry.) “Chat a bit about the painting’s provenance you’ve found, how that ties into the client’s story if at all, and keep working on the painting. I’ll have Dom wander into the shot at some point to talk with you. Ready?”
Lucia gathers up her swabs and the cleaning solution she tested earlier and then nods.
“Roll cameras. Go when ready, Lucia.”
“I’ve done an initial inspection here, just getting an idea of the scope of the work, and I discovered something really interesting hidden by the frame.” She tilts the canvas closer to the lens gently and points to the faint markings. “See here?” The camera zooms in close. “It’s faint, but there’s a signature: Richard Wilson. He lived in the 1700’s and was perhaps the first great landscape artist in the British Isles. He was Welsh, and his style is so romantic; he helped take the idea of landscape painting from purely informational to emotional as well.”
She dips the swab in the solution and starts cleaning on a corner of the sky. “I’ve done a little research and actually, this painting was thought to be lost or destroyed. The title of it exists in old records from his studio, but no other evidence had suggested that it survived the chaos of life. To think that it had apparently been in a private home in Wales all this time is incredible. And look at that, it’s cleaning up so nicely,” Lucia says, pointing to the patch of now light blue sky. “Once I get the rest of this varnish off, it’s going to be a totally different painting.”
Lucia chuckles as she rolls a new swab of cotton. “Of course, I’ll have to remove it from the support and repair the large tear through the side before I can finish cleaning and then do the retouching, but I find it’s nice to get a little preview of the end product as a motivator before starting the big tasks.”
Zahra waves Dom forward.
“Lucia, how’s it going with Henry’s painting?”
“It’s going to be stunning, I think. Just look at those colors!”
Dom leans closer, careful not to touch. “Oh wow, that is vibrant.”
“Have you heard how it was found?”
Dom has, obviously, but that’s not how television works. “No, what happened?”
“Henry’s mother was clearing out the attic of the family cottage and came across a box of things passed down from her late husband’s family. Pulled out the painting and it got caught on a sharp-edged candlestick shaped like a pine tree of all things.”
“No! Oh, that’s so unfortunate,” Dom sighs.
Lucia nods. “It’s such a lovely piece. I’m lucky to get to work on it; it’s a shame it got torn. It used to hang in her husband’s study above the fireplace. Henry used to try to copy it with crayons as a child while his father was working. And he certainly didn’t mention that it had any special history or anything when he brought it in—just that he loved the peace the scene evoked.”
“Typical Henry,” Dom chuckles.
“Oh?”
“That’s right,” Dom realizes. “You weren’t here the last couple times he’s brought something to us. This painting is actually the third item he’s brought into The Repair Shop.”
“Goodness, well I’m certainly glad to be part of the tradition! It’s going to be gorgeous when it’s done.” Carefully, Lucia sets aside the cleaning supplies and flips the painting over. “I think I’ll work on getting this off the support and re-flattening the canvas before I do any more to the front. It’ll be much easier to clean and retouch once that’s all set.”
“Right then,” Dom says, clapping his hands together with a grin. “I’ll let you crack on with things.”
“Cheers, Dom.”
Lucia’s all but forgotten the cameras as she reaches for the tack puller, startling a little as Zahra calls, “Cut!”
Putting down her tools for a second she peers up at their director. “This is really the third artifact from Henry? He’s such a sweet young man, so poised.”
Zahra nods. “We weren’t going to do more than two episodes with him, but he’s a fan favorite client, and he reached out to us. Apparently his boyfriend said it was silly not to at least ask given how much Henry enjoyed being on previously. And of course, the producers were all for it—give the audience another glimpse at his life. I think they’re going to ask him to come on again next season to keep the streak alive.”
“That makes sense, it’s an easy hook for habitual viewers, I suppose.”
“Yes, they’d be stupid not to try to cash in on Henry.” Uncharacteristically, Zahra hesitates, then leans closer. “I just hope he takes care of himself—kid’s had enough of the public trying to pry into his life.”
Lucia tilts her head to the side in question. “What do you mean?”
“He’s Arthur Fox’s son.”
“Oh, the poor thing,” Lucia says, hand coming up to rest over her heart in sympathy. “I remember all the hubbub when he died; not an easy time for anyone in that family.” She sucks in a breath. “That puts the story about coloring while his father worked in a whole new light, doesn’t it.”
Zahra nods, a reluctant smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “If nothing else that boyfriend of his would fight anyone who made Henry uncomfortable—including Henry himself—so it’s probably going to be just fine.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll let you get to it, we'll film some more later today or tomorrow depending on your progress, okay?”
Zahra leaves, heeled boots clacking decisively as she walks across the brick floor. Lucia watches her go, still thinking about Henry Fox. She was already planning to do her best for this painting, like every other piece she works on. But remembering how rough of a time the remaining Fox family had processing their grief, she wants to make sure this restoration is absolutely perfect.
4. Love Letters
“It’s been strange not having the scrapbook in the flat, absolutely,” Henry confirms to the camera. “I found myself drifting to its spot on the shelf a few times a week to reread one of the letters and got a jolt each time I found empty space instead. I’m definitely ready to get it back. I can’t wait to see how Kyle got on repairing the water damage.”
“Cut,” Ms. Bankston calls out. “Thanks Henry, we’ll do the more in depth ‘how you’re feeling’ moment once you’re inside.”
Henry nods in acknowledgement—he’s an old pro at this by now.
“We’ve got another ten minutes of set up to do inside, so feel free to wander the yard for now. Just stay in shouting distance.”
Henry shakes hands and catches up with the crew members he remembers from his last three times visiting the West Sussex barn and then strolls away. It’s always so beautiful on the grounds, no matter what season it is—although he is glad that he’s not being made to wait in the dark or the cold of a late winter afternoon. No, the early spring day is stunning as he walks down toward the lake.
He hadn’t been prepared for how much of an ache for Alex’s letters he’d have in his stomach after dropping the scrapbook off. Henry had been sick with the thought that all of the words Alex wrote to him when they were living separately would be lost because some idiot fell asleep while filling the bath on the floor above Henry’s study. It was Alex who talked him out of his spiral, who offered up his hair dryer, who suggested Henry call the Repair Shop again.
“I didn’t even know you still had these, H,” Alex says wonderingly, flipping to the next damp page of the scrapbook and aiming the blow dryer. “I thought this was a photo album or something from your mom.”
Henry puts down the textbooks that were also caught in the small flood and crosses to hug Alex from behind. “As if I could ever part with your love letters, darling. They kept me going while you finished school.” He can just see a blush dusting the tops of Alex’s cheeks.
“Sap,” he accuses with a grin.
“Utterly so,” Henry agrees without shame. He hesitates, then asks. “Did you keep the ones I sent you?”
Alex leans back into Henry’s embrace with an impatient huff, like Henry’s the oblivious one in this relationship. “You know that blue box in the top of the closet? They’re all in there.”
“Oh. I thought it was just a gift box.”
“Well, it used to be, but I put your letters there because…” He trails off, flush even more pronounced now as he breaks eye contact.
Colour Henry officially curious. “Because?”
“Because it matched the color of your eyes,” Alex admits to his lap.
Henry’s heart soars. “And you call me a sap.”
“Well, don’t spread it around. It's top secret, for your ears only.” Alex tries to be stern but his eyes are twinkling.
“Of course, love,” Henry promises, dropping a kiss to the top of Alex’s head.
Henry grins at the memory as he gazes out at the water. It’ll be such a relief to get them back. To have that tangible reminder of Alex’s love back in its proper place on his shelf—right in his eyeline from where Henry sits to write at his desk.
5. Chesterfield Armchair
“Are you ready to see the chair again?” Will asks for the camera’s benefit. It’s obvious to anyone with even the slightest bit of vision that Henry is dying to see it. Sonnaz is already holding the other side of the covering, prepared for the reveal.
Henry nods, tears building in his eyes, and they don’t delay any further in pulling the blanket off. The editors can work their dramatic magic later—Henry needs to see the armchair again, finally restored to its former glory.
“Oh.”
Henry’s reaction is less a word and more of sigh—an exhale dripping in relief, a sough of warm wind through the late winter branches. One hand flies up to cover his mouth, the other around his own waist holding himself together.
Sonnaz’s heart goes out to the young man all over again, although she had been thinking about him during the entire restoration, with every whack of the hammer, with every thunk of the stapler, with every stitch.
“It’s— It’s absolutely perfect,” Henry finally manages, smiling wide despite the tears running down his cheeks.
She beams at Will in collective triumph and then back at Henry. The chair hadn’t been as far gone as some others she’s worked on, but there was still enough damage to the structure of the chair that they’d had to be extremely delicate. The leather had been sun-bleached and cracked, tacks missing along the seams, the tufting loose, and the wooden frame chipped. Even in such a state, the wingback had been absolutely gorgeous, just waiting for some attention and care to bring it back to life.
“As you know, it had seen better days,” Sonnaz starts and Henry chuckles in rueful acknowledgement of a childhood spent contributing to the damage. “But between Will and I, we repaired and strengthened the structure and used as much of the original materials as we could before adding new.”
“I sanded down the worst of the frame and then carved filler pieces of wood to match where bits had gone missing,” Will adds. “And then the frame got a new coat of stain and varnish to protect it before I gave it back to Sonnaz for the upholstery.”
Sonnaz nods. “In the end the only new bits of leather are the back panel and the underside of the cushion—I was able to save the rest. Although I did totally replace the stuffing inside the seat and the missing tacks along the front of the arms. I was careful to keep the age and history of the chair wherever I could. I know how important it is for it to still feel like your father’s chair.” She can’t help but remember the emotional upheaval at the drop off.
“This is my father’s armchair.” The simple sentence hangs in the air for a moment while everyone in the barn holds their breath. Arthur Fox had been beloved as an actor, and his too-soon death still feels raw. It must be a thousand times worse for his actual family, even after some time has passed.
“He was always sitting in it; a cup of tea balanced on the arm while he studied a script or took a nap or had one of us on his lap while he read to us. My brother and sister and I used to climb all over the chair and Dad all the time, so it was already a bit worn by the time I was a teenager. So many family photos were taken on and around the chair, it was basically another part of the family. And then after— We—” Henry takes a shaky breath and his boyfriend, Alex, rubs his shoulder encouragingly. “We couldn’t really bear having it sitting there, empty, for the last few years, so it went into storage. I went looking for it recently, intending to put it in my office in our new house, and well… It’s in much worse shape than I remember.”
Now, Henry just gestures helplessly as he drifts closer to the chair, seemingly without realizing he’s doing so. “It’s the idealized version of what I remember before I pulled it out of storage,” he says. “I was just devastated when I got it in the light and saw the state of it. It was like…” Henry takes a deep breath before continuing on. “It was like hearing Dad’s diagnosis all over again, in a way. There was absolutely no chance I could leave it in such condition. But you’ve managed to take away the damage and let the history shine through.” He wipes his eyes with the cuff of his jumper sleeve. “The two of you are magic.”
“Thank you very much, it was our pleasure,” Will says gently.
Sonnaz agrees before asking, “Would you like to sit in it?”
“Can I?”
“Of course you can! It’s yours, after all.” She and Will get the armchair off the presentation table and onto the floor of the barn and then Sonnaz waves Henry forward. “Go on.”
Henry eases into the chair carefully, holding his breath as though scared of damaging the chair again. But he soon settles into the seat properly and his whole body relaxes. He strokes the arms and lets his head lean against the wing with a sigh.
“I feel like I can smell him. Like Dad’s just got up to make tea before reading me a bedtime story.”
“That’s the highest compliment anyone has ever given me, I think,” Sonnaz smiles.
Henry stands up again, but keeps one hand resting on the top of the chair. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough for your work.”
“We were happy to do this for you, Henry. But maybe no more treating it like a climbing structure, right?”
Henry’s laugh is watery, but it’s there. “Certainly not.”
+1. Gold Ring
“Alex, stand on the mark and we’ll do the wrap up, and then you can go.”
“I don’t know why you think I need the instructions, Zee,” Alex rolls his eyes. “Even if you hadn’t emailed all of this to me—multiple times—Henry walked me through the whole process.”
“Just get on the mark, you little shit.”
Alex grins. “You love me.”
“And, rolling,” she calls, obviously done with his attitude. He does his best to rein himself and his anxious anticipation in and get the filming done as soon as possible—Henry’s waiting for him at the end of the lane. A last-minute meeting with his publisher meant that Henry had to travel to The Repair Shop separately. Annoying at the time, but then Alex realized it worked better for his plans.
“Alex, how are you feeling about the repair?”
“Fantastic. Richard did an amazing job getting the ring whole again—I can’t even see where the break was. And it’s shiny, just like I remember it on my abuelo’s finger.” Alex feels himself bouncing on his feet and forces himself still again. “It’s been tucked away since long before he passed it to me—since the fire at his house about a decade ago—so to see it out and in the sunshine again is really special.”
He kind of can’t stop staring at it, nestled in the dark blue velvet. Can’t stop imagining it on a much paler finger than his grandfather’s.
Zahra, the devil woman, makes him do three more takes before finally, finally saying cut. He’s halfway across the yard before the first crew member moves.
Alex finds Henry where he said he’d be—on the shore of the lake a short walk from the main set, staring out at the water. The sight of the love of his life under a rare bright blue sky with an easy smile on his face makes him walk that much faster. Henry must hear him coming because he turns and his small smile turns into an outright grin when he recognizes Alex.
Fuck, he’s so in love with this man.
“There you are, love. Zahra finally finished with you?”
Alex kisses him on the cheek in greeting and grabs his hand, needing the contact to steady himself. “Yeah, took fucking forever—you left that part out when you were telling me about your experiences. She made me do four fucking takes of the last bit outside the barn.”
“How odd, I’ve never been asked to do more than one take any time I’ve been here.”
“Brag about it,” Alex grumbles, pretending to pout.
Henry, predictably, ignores his dramatics. “Do I finally get to know what you brought to the Repair Shop? You’ve been so secretive about it.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On your answer.”
Alex isn’t stalling, you’re stalling.
Henry—kind, caring, patient, loving, Henry—actually rolls his eyes. “On my answer to what question, you insufferable miscreant.” He might as well have stomped his foot on the ground like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Fuck, Alex loves him so much.
Still holding Henry’s hand, Alex drops to one knee and gets the ring box out of his pocket with his free hand. (It’s the smoothest he’s ever been in his life, he notes in the distant part of his brain that isn’t anxiously trying to get words out.) Henry gasps, clutching Alex’s hand tightly while a disbelievingly wondrous smile starts on his face.
“Henry Fox, I’m so in love with you I don’t have the words to say it, so I’ll borrow some of your favorites. ‘You have bewitched me, body and soul.’” Alex does Henry the favor of ignoring his tearful exhale at the Jane Austen quote. (For now.)
“Seriously, Henry, you’re it for me. I’ve known that since before we moved in together just before law school. I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you, walking David together, cooking your favorite meals, and taking care of each other. I want to watch you grow old with me; I want you next to me for any future that comes our way. You’re the love of my fucking life.”
Alex pulls his hand out of Henry’s so he can open the ring box and hold it up for Henry to see.
“Will you marry me?”
Henry barely lets him get the question out before throwing himself at Alex and knocking them both to the ground with a joyful, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”
The air is a little chilly, the ground beneath Alex is uncomfortably damp, and they are probably definitely making a scene, but nothing on Earth could stop him from kissing Henry at this moment.
They kiss for what could be several lifetimes, lost in a cloud of happiness and love. Alex only pulls away because he does in fact still need air to live, no matter that his heart insists all he needs is Henry.
“I love you, Alex.”
“Love you, too, baby.” He kisses Henry’s temple contentedly. “Can I give you the ring now?” Alex is still panting a little.
“Please,” Henry laughs, as out of breath as Alex, holding out his left hand.
They sit up and Alex carefully pulls the ring out of the box and slips it on Henry’s finger. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. The warm gold looks like liquid sunshine and Alex can’t help but kiss Henry’s hand right on the metal.
Henry opens his mouth to say something else when a cheer from nearby interrupts. They jerk in surprise and look over toward the barn at the same time. Alex beams when he sees the whole staff of the Repair Shop clapping and celebrating as they walk closer. Alex had known that Henry had made friends with the artisans and crew over his many trips out to the barn, but didn’t know that seeing them all smiling and happy, cheering for them getting engaged, would make him almost as emotional as hearing Henry say yes.