Page 102 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘So the garage. Did you say you could give me the number of the builder?’

‘Sorry, Nevin. Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ There was another noise, like something falling. So much for being quiet as a church mouse. Net must go to some pretty wild churches if she thought that was being quiet.

‘That. I think I might have an intruder.’

‘Nah. It’s probably just a cat or the wind knocking something over.’

‘I don’t have a cat and none of the windows are open. And my partner’s just popped out to the shop.’ She took a step away from him, towards the back.

Doogie leaned his hand on the door and tried to look casual. ‘The shop. He’s not at work then?’

‘No, he’s having a day off.’ She turned back to him and frowned. ‘Do you know Byron then?’

‘Not really. Just went into his shop the other day. Been thinking about getting a new tatt.’

She looked him up and down. ‘Sounds like you’ve been thinking about getting a lot of work done, one way or another.’

‘Yeah well, new house, new me. You know how it is with fresh starts.’

But Arianne wasn’t listening anymore. She was on her way down the hall.

57

A SERIES OF PLANNING DEVIATIONS

Operation Reclaim was not going as smoothly as the plan had suggested. For a start, Colin had neglected to tell them that the bushes on the house side of the garden fence had grown somewhat since Netta had last been here. They were now the size of small trees, but not nearly as sturdy. She’d been the first one over the ladder and had subsequently sky dived straight into a prickly Pyracantha, tumbled through its sharp, spiky branches and landed in the middle of it with both her hands and clothes badly torn. The others had fared only slightly better. Their collective injuries amounted to a nasty gash on Frank’s arm, a scratch on Liza’s neck and several on Colin’s face. Notwithstanding the damage, they had successfully completed phase one without alerting either Adam and Jude, the turncoat neighbours, or Arianne.

Phase two had not been without its issues either. Netta had quickly discovered she was not as slim as she thought she was. She would have to have a word with her mother about her obsession with cakes when all this was over; they were no good for people trying to extricate themselves from a tiny window. For a while, she’d thought she was going to be stuck with herbackside hanging out of the old pantry until the fire brigade were called. It was only an enormous shove from Frank on said backside that managed to shift her, head first into the tiny room. Or more precisely, into one of Colin’s canvasses. Luckily it was a blank one. She knew how much the completed ones sold for.

As she prepared herself for phase three of their assault, her main concern was the noise. It was bound to have alerted Arianne. She held her breath for a while and listened. Doogie was still talking. All might not be lost just yet. Manoeuvring herself onto her rear end, she pulled the canvas off her head, scraping skin off her ears in the process.

The next thing to do was to stand up which was not easy in this small space. She gripped the shelves either side of her and hauled herself up. As she did so, her left hand pushed down on something. Oh. Her head came up to its level and she realised, too late, it was a tube of paint that was bulging under the pressure of her weight. Before she had a chance to change its course, a stream of red shot out at her. She turned away, just in time to avoid it hitting her square in the eye. It caught her hair and the side of her face. And then she fell forward and crashed through the door into the hall. Bollocks!

Netta jumped up, ran into the kitchen and searched for the key cupboard. It was exactly where Colin said it would be. But shit, there were so many keys in there. How was she supposed to choose? She grabbed a bunch with a pink fluffy pom-pom for a key ring. That had to be Arianne’s master set. The first key she tried wouldn’t turn and almost got stuck in the lock. With shaking hands, she tried another. No good. A third. No. A fourth. Still no good. How many fucking keys did the woman have?

Someone was running down the hall and she knew who that someone was. ‘You!’ Yes, it was definitely Arianne. Netta turned back to the door and shoved a fifth key in.

Arianne was almost on top of her. ‘Nevin, call the police. We’ve got a break in.’

Nevin? That was Doogie’s dad’s name. Oh thank God, the lock turned, just as Doogie was saying: ‘I don’t think so, love.’

She ripped the door open. Frank, Colin and Liza tumbled in to face the wrath of Arianne. It was four against one, but Arianne was going down fighting. She grabbed a saucepan. ‘Get out of my house.’

Colin pushed past Netta. He was trembling. ‘No. You get out of my house.’

Arianne raised the saucepan ‘You pathetic little pig.’

‘Don’t you dare touch him.’ Without realising it, Netta had jumped in between them. ‘Don’t you ever touch him again.’

Arianne stepped back. She had a sneery look on her face. ‘This is what you’ve reduced yourself to is it, Colin? Hiding behind her like a snivelling coward. And her of all people. After everything she did to you.’

Just then, big burly Byron came thundering down the hall. ‘Babe, what’s going on?’

He wasn’t supposed to be here. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’ said Netta.

‘He took a day off,’ said Doogie.

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