Page 73 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘I expect so. He hasn’t been entirely truthful with me. It seems he’s sort of on the run.’

‘Has he broken the law?’

‘No, not that kind of on the run. Grace wants to get married. It looks like it was enough for him to do a Doogie.’

‘What’s a Doogie?’

Netta did a mime that involved her running on the spot, getting into a car and driving off.

He looked amused. ‘Ah, I see. Will he come back, do you think?’

‘Eventually. When he’s stopped being angry with me.’

‘Are you angry with him?’

‘He lied to me, Frank. Of course I’m angry. I expect it will blow over though. We’re like a couple of lit fuses, me and Doogie. We flare, we blow up and then it’s gone. Mostly anyway.’

Frank kicked a half-chewed tennis ball across the grass, sending the dogs scooting after it. ‘Is that how you’d prefer our relationship to be?’

‘God no. It’d be totally exhausting. Although I would appreciate you being more open when things bothered you.’

He smiled. ‘That’s quite a tall order, but I’ll do my best.’

‘That’s all I ask.’ She kissed him, glad that he was here for her again.

Two more messages came through to advise of more non-sightings. Netta sighed. Colin was despicable, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything bad to happen to him.

Frank shook his head. ‘Where the hell is he?’

41

YOU NEVER ASK ME

Colin was probably having an out-of-body experience. If he wasn’t, then why was he looking at his own face? Oh God, don’t say he was having another of those fucking nightmares about his disembodied head again. That would just about be the last bloody straw. He closed his eyes then opened just one. Yes, it was him, with one eye open and one closed. He was about to let out a loud scream when he realised that he was looking into a mirror. A dirty, grungy, greenish mirror. He was lying in front of it on something soft, verdant and damp. And a big fat slug was slowly progressing along his arm. He shook the slug off and sat up. Where was he? A garden. Yes, definitely someone’s garden. But whose? Not Netta’s or Frank’s, although it did look strangely familiar.

‘Adam, there’s someone at the bottom of the garden.’ Shit the bed, it was his neighbour, Jude. He was next door to his own house. ‘Colin. Is that you? Adam, I think it’s Colin.’

Adam and Jude. Not his type of people but useful to have as friends. Although they didn’t look too friendly right now. Perhaps they’d gone over to the dark side and cosied up to Arianne. Before they could reach him, Colin scrambled over thefence and dropped into the thorny bushes that formed a border between the back of their houses and a small park. He picked himself up and scarpered as fast as he could.

It wasn’t long before the pain in his side forced him to stop running and find a bench to catch his breath. He was such a mess these days, although two days of drinking and sleeping rough didn’t help. The bench was in a play area. He used to bring Liza and Will here when they were small. He’d push them on the swings and chat to the other parents. Nice people like him. Decent people. That’s how he saw himself then. He didn’t know how he saw himself now. He was undefinable.

There was a half-empty bottle of wine underneath the bench. He picked it up. Malbec. He was quite partial to a Malbec. All the same, what kind of person would leave that sort of thing in a kiddies’ play area? What kind of thoughtless monster? A flash of recall made him realise he was that monster. He’d come here last night, after drinking in places his old self didn’t even know existed. Awful places, but at least no one would think to go looking for him there. If they were looking. His battery was dead so he had no idea. For all he knew they could be glad to see the back of him. Most of them would definitely be glad to see the back of him. Except Liza. She wouldn’t give up on him.

Colin took a swig from the bottle. How he’d ended up in his neighbours’ garden was anybody’s guess. His memory was mostly a blank since that call with Netta on Wednesday. The events before then were clear. The discussion with Ursula, her walking away from him. He remembered leaving the allotment and pounding the streets for hours without any real thought to where he was going. He’d ended up in Cannon Hill Park sitting by the lake, going over Ursula’s assessment of her husband and him: “What matters is what he did. The same applies to you.”Then he’d recalled what Arthur had said about Netta not wanting to live and a terrible, terrible thought had crossed hismind. What if these people were right? What if it really didn’t matter how others had treated you? What if all that mattered was your own actions?

The call to Netta had set his mind at rest a little. She hadn’t tried to kill herself, only thought about it. Well we could all say that, couldn’t we? He’d been on his way back to hers when he’d phoned, but the other things she’d said about the way he’d treated her had sent him into another tailspin. The last thing he remembered was settling in with a large gin and tonic somewhere in the back streets of Balsall Heath, assuring himself that she’d been exaggerating to make him feel bad. Just how many he’d had after that was way beyond his recall. And yet no matter how much he drank, there was still that nagging doubt in the back of his head that wouldn’t go away. Because even though he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing, Colin couldn’t forget what he’d been thinking, over and over again. All that really matters is what you’ve done.

He put the bottle to his lips again and the Malbec slid down his throat, into his otherwise empty belly. But he’d glugged it too quickly and half of it came back up again with a choking cough. He wiped the red trickles from his chin, the accountant in him mentally clocking up the waste percentage.

A young woman was watching him from the other side of the playground. She had a small child with her but she wouldn’t let go of its hand. She was wary. Of him. She was wary of him. Suddenly shamed by his appearance and his behaviour, he stood up and bowed his head. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not myself today.’

He found a bin on Moseley Road to leave the wine bottle in. No doubt one of the alckies that hung around the green would find it. Good luck to them if they did. They might as well kill their livers with something decent for a change.

A bus that took him in the direction of Netta’s house turned up as he passed the stop. He’d get that and walk the rest of the way. With any luck, they’d all be out by the time he arrived.

Colin was just a few streets away from Netta’s. It had taken him longer than expected to get here because he’d been forced to leave the bus early on account of the other passengers turning their noses up at him. Yes, he was aware that owing to the fact he hadn’t washed for two days and had slept on a bed of compost, he smelled. But did people have to be so rude? To make matters worse, the sun was a bastard this morning and he was sweating profusely.

Just in time, he spotted Frank’s car coming his way and dove behind a hedge. At least he’d dodged having to face his ex-wife’s current lover. Assuming she hadn’t run off with Chambers yet.

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