Page 37 of Loving Netta Wilde

Colin peered into the shed. It had a window that was covered by closed curtains but there was enough daylight coming through the open door to see the place was full of cobwebs and dust. The wall on one side had two shelves above a table loaded with pots and other indiscernible shapes. At the back was a small wooden cupboard with more things on top of it. Next to it was a wicker chair. ‘Yes, shouldn’t take you long.’ He turned back round to the others and realised they were all staring at him. ‘What?’

‘We were hoping you’d say that,’ said Arthur.

‘Me? You want me to do it?’

Arthur pushed a broom in his direction. ‘Well you don’t look as if you could handle a spade today.’

‘I’m not sure he can handle a broom today.’ Clyde had a big smirk on his face and Chambers was grinning from ear to ear.

Colin was quietly fuming. He was about to tell them to shove their fucking broom when Ursula touched his arm: ‘You don’t mind, do you? It’s just that it’s too painful for Clyde and me.’

He gave himself a few seconds to take her in. She wasn’t laughing at him or taking the piss, she just wanted his help. It had been a long time since anyone had asked for that. He took the broom from Arthur. ‘Not in the least.’

Colin was not a fan of spiders or creepy crawlies of any kind. He didn’t exactly run from them like a big girlie, but they turned his stomach. Although the one he was looking at now did actually make him want to run out of the shed screaming. It. Was. Huge. With fangs! Yes, fangs. He was certain they were fangs. The only thing stopping him from doing that very thing was the knowledge that they’d all laugh at him. They were out there now, doing manly activities. Chambers was ripping through the soil and turning it over like it was a cake mix instead of heavy, claggy dirt held together with a thick tangle of roots and weeds. Ursula was watching his lean, muscular body flexing, a big smile on her face. She didn’t look quite so in need of help now.

She turned and waved. He waved back, embarrassed that she’d caught him. She strolled up to the shed. ‘How are you getting on?’

‘Fine. Just taking a breather from the dust and the spiders. There’s a massive one on the curtains. I’m building myself up to dealing with it.’

‘Let me see.’ She smiled. Not the kind of smile she’d been giving Chambers. More the pitying kind.

Colin immediately regretted his confession. ‘There’s no need.’

But she was already in there, arming herself with a pot and an old newspaper from the table. In no time, she had the eight-legged mutant secured inside the pot and set it down on the ground outside.

Chambers came over to see the prisoner set free. ‘Fucking hell, that’s one ugly bastard. I hate spiders.’

Colin felt a little less hopeless knowing that the man wasn’t entirely invincible. ‘Me too,’ he said, only afterwards wondering whether he’d transgressed the “don’t say another word” rule again. If he had, Chambers didn’t seem bothered by it. Perhaps he was softening. Maybe it was the realisation that they now had two things in common. Netta, and a hatred of spiders. He resumed the shed clearance with renewed vigour.

The first to go outside were the curtains, now that they were safe to approach. Next went the wicker chair which freed up enough room for manoeuvring around the small space. Now that he wasn’t putting all his concentration into big, hairy spiders, Colin caught a whiff of something unsavoury. There were no obvious contenders on the shelves, table or cupboard tops so it had to be inside the cupboard itself. He opened the door and the smell of something dire and rank hit him so hard, he had to run back out into the fresh air before he puked.

Chambers was the only one out there now. He slammed his spade into the ground and left it there. ‘Another spider?’

Colin tried to answer but he was bent over, involuntarily dry retching. So Chambers took it upon himself to go inside. A minute later he was back out, spitting to clear his throat. ‘How long did they say the guy had been dead?’

‘A couple of years, I think.’

‘That explains it. Get a bin bag.’ Chambers pulled off his T-shirt and tied it across his nose and mouth.

Colin tried not to look at his strong, healthy torso. He tried not to think of his own puny frame in comparison. Height wise there wasn’t much difference between the two of them, but Chambers had looked after himself. Colin had not. He knew itand, as he took off his own top to do the same, he could tell Chambers could see it too.

They crouched down in front of the cupboard. Colin could see an open carton of long-life milk, the life of which had long run out; the remains of some kind of foodstuff; a jar of hardened instant coffee; a tin that presumably held dried up tea bags, and a dead rat, its burst open carcass wriggling with maggots.

‘Open the bag,’ said Chambers.

He opened it wide while Chambers picked up the least offensive items with his gloved hands, then took a small shovel to the rest. When it was empty, they carried the cupboard out into the sunshine and left the door wide open.

Chambers put his T-shirt back on. ‘That was fucking revolting.’

Colin tied a knot in the bag and shuddered. ‘I feel dirty.’

Chambers spat into the dirt. ‘Yep. I need something to get rid of the taste.’

‘I’ll take this straight to the bins and see if there’s any tea going.’ Colin looked out for the others on the way to the bins. He couldn’t see them on either Arthur or Ursula’s allotments. Clyde’s pitch was tucked away in the furthest corner, too far to see. He remembered the corner shop Ursula had mentioned the other night and went in search of something to rid them of the taste of dead and rotting things.

When he got back, Chambers was in one of Arthur’s chairs, looking at his phone. ‘You took your time.’ He said it without taking his eyes off the phone.

‘I couldn’t see anyone for the tea, so I went to the shop. I got hand sanitiser to make us feel slightly less disgusting and these.’ He held up a four pack of beers. ‘Not much choice, only cheap lager or even cheaper lager.’

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