Page 87 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘Nah, but I might see her tomorrow. I’m taking Priscilla Sweeting to the allotment. I’ve been doing some odd jobs for her. She wants to see the place where Samuel died.’

‘You’re brave.’

‘She’s not so bad when you get to know her.’

‘I could say the same about you.’

Doogie winked at him. ‘Steady on, bro. I’m not good at emotions. You should go and see Ursula before she leaves.’

‘I’ll think about it. I’d like to apologise to her.’

‘Also, you should know. We’re working on a plan to get your house back, but I don’t think anyone’s asked if that’s what you want.’

Maud looked up at Colin and cocked her head to one side. Colin smiled and scratched under her chin. Doogie thought he was never going to answer, but then he said: ‘I don’t know. I think I’m afraid to walk back in there.’

49

THERE ARE MORE WAYS TO BE UNFAITHFUL

Priscilla was dressed up in what looked like her Sunday church outfit. She always looked smart, but today’s extra effort was noticeable. She was wearing a wig. What with that and the make-up, she looked younger.

Doogie held out his arm for her. ‘You’re looking mighty fine today, Priscilla.’ He hadn’t meant to sound like he’d just stepped out of a cheesy seventies TV series. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d say in real life, more the kind of thing his dad used to say to his mum, back in the day. He’d been thinking a lot about him since Merrie brought him up. That was probably why it had slipped out.

Priscilla fixed him with a stern glare. ‘Don’t think that gives you the right to flirt with me, young man. I’m very particular about who I receive amorous remarks from.’

He winked. ‘Does that mean you’ve got someone you’re less particular with then?’

Her face creased. ‘There might be a certain widower at church I exchange pleasantries with. And no, it is not Clyde Wilson before you start getting ideas into that thick head ofyours. That man hasn’t seen the inside of God’s house since him buried his wife. This gentleman is cut from much finer cloth.’

‘No chance for me then?’

She slapped his hand. ‘Absolutely none. I got very high standards these days. Are we going, or are we going to talk nonsense on my doorstep all morning?’

‘We’re going.’ He offered his arm up to her again.

She batted him away like she was swatting a fly. ‘I’m not an invalid. I can walk down my own garden path without falling over.’

She waited while he opened the passenger door for her, then sat in the seat and put her handbag on her lap. Doogie gave her time to do the seatbelt up before closing the door. When he got inside the car himself, he noticed how very upright she was. She was holding the handbag so tight he could see her knuckle bones through her skin.

‘I’m not that bad a driver,’ he joked.

‘Shut up your foolish mouth and drive,’ she said without looking at him.

By the time they pulled up outside the allotment gates, beads of sweat were showing on Priscilla’s forehead. She wiped them away with a tissue.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your son or daughters with you?’ said Doogie.

She shook her head. ‘They’d make too much of a fuss. I’d rather do it with you.’

‘Okay. When you’re ready, I’ll call Clyde. He’s going to let us in.’

She took a compact out of her bag and began to powder her face. ‘Will she be in there?’

‘I don’t know. Probably. I think she’s there most days. Are you sure?—?’

‘Stop asking me if I’m sure.’

‘I don’t know if this helps but according to Clyde, Ursula and Samuel were just friends. They didn’t, you know?—’

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