Page 56 of Loving Netta Wilde

He sighed. ‘You wanna know what else I was thinking?’

The answer, of course, was not if it had anything to do with their baby. All the same, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

‘I was thinking that if Will and Liza hadn’t had Colin around, they’d be different people. Maybe not so great.’

‘Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. Does that mean you’re warming to him then?’

‘Fuck no. I still think he’s a manipulative wanker. I’m just saying he probably wasn’t a complete bastard when it came to the kids.’

‘Well, that’s all right then. I was worried you’d gone soft for a minute.’

His phone rang. He picked it up off the table. ‘Sorry, I need to…’ He gestured towards the house.

‘Work?’

He nodded and answered the call as he walked inside. It was a lie. She’d seen the name that came up. It was Mum.

She got up and paced around the garden. Doogie was no better than Frank. He talked about Colin being manipulative, but he wasn’t averse to playing a few mind games himself.

She turned and saw Frank looking on from his studio. Right. That was it. She strode through the gate into his garden and stood on the other side of the French windows. Frank shifted uncomfortably, and well he might. He opened the door, somewhat reluctantly she thought. Her hands found a place on her hips. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘No, I was just checking the weather.’

‘Oh right. Only it looked very much like you were spying on us.’

‘Spying? That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?’

‘What would you call it then?’

‘I wouldn’t call it anything.’

Her arms magically folded themselves together. They had a life of their own now that she was back in angry-woman mode. ‘Where’s Colin?’

‘I dunno. He hasn’t come back yet.’

‘I see. So you’ve been skulking in here alone, like some seedy peeping Tom.’

‘I didn’t want to interrupt your tête-à-tête.’

‘Our tête-à-tête? You know, I never really had you down as the jealous type, Frank. I thought you were far too modern a man for that. Looks like I got you wrong. Glad I found out before it was too late.’

‘I’m not the jealous type,’ he called after her as she stormed off for the second time that day.

She spun back round. The hands were on the hips again. ‘Is that so? Well from where I’m standing, you’re looking pretty fucking jealous. And I’m not having it. I am not having it at all.’

32

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE RUNNING KIND

This was absolutely not how Frank’s new life was supposed to begin. There should have been celebrations, partying and such like. Actually, not partying, seeing as he’d specifically requested no partying. But a quiet dinner, a toast to acknowledge the end of one life and the start of another. That would have been nice. And what had he got? Well, none of the aforementioned. Obviously. The best Netta could muster was allegations, followed by more allegations. Without a doubt, this new life of his was all going to shite.

He was feeling awful. Hardly surprising given that he’d not slept a wink all night. By rights he should still be in bed, trying to catch up, but that would have been a pointless exercise because after yesterday’s personal attacks, there was no way he’d be dropping off any time soon. Attacks which were completely unfounded, by the way. According to the woman who was following her ex-lover around like a love-struck teenager, not only was he behaving like a child, he was also consumed with jealousy. How dare she? How fucking dare she? And as for her complete U-turn with regard to Colin? Unbelievable! One minute she’s having a pop at him for feeling sorry forthe fecker and the next, she’s giving him evils, just for saying what Geraldine and Arthur were obviously thinking. And Frank absolutely stood by what he’d said. Because maybe, just maybe, Arianne had given Colin a robust dose of karma. Not that Frank condoned violence and not that Colin was ever violent towards Netta, as far as he knew. But maybe for once, the man would see what it was like to be on the receiving end of a malevolent force. Although it had to be said, it didn’t look like Colin was showing any contrition in that regard whatsoever.

Frank put on his trainers. Malevolent forces or not, he was going for a run. Even if he did feel like a mangled turd, he was not going to let this business ruin his journey to fitness.

Fred was waiting at the front door, just in case Frank was thinking of going without him. He was a good running mate, as long as he didn’t get distracted which was a reason enough to go early before the park got too full.

Frank kept his eyes straight as they trod the few precarious steps from the house to the street. It was too early for anyone to be leaving Netta’s, but you never knew. He started with a steady jog and kept it at that pace all the way to the park. Once he’d let Fred off his lead, he picked up speed. When he’d first started this running business, he’d barely made it around the park without having to walk part of the way. Now he could do three or four laps without feeling tired. For a man who was never previously disposed to any kind of sport, that gave him a peculiar sense of pride.

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