The house we moved into that summer was derelict. My brother and I counted ladybirds in the garden while she knocked out ceilings, waxed beams, stripped paint, raised and reconstructed an original tiled floor to meet the stipulations of the local planning officer. One mysterious night, when we were all asleep, she somehow single-handedly transported a large stone lintel several times her own bodyweight from the garden, into the house, and up into position above the fireplace.