Page 107 of Loving Netta Wilde

She pushed herself away, laughing but there were tears in her eyes. ‘Yes okay, Chambers. You can fuck off now.’

‘Fuck off yourself, Wilde.’ He kissed her for the last time, then got in the car and drove.

As soon as he hit Loch Lomond, Doogie began to relax. When he reached Glencoe, he stopped to breathe in the air and let Spike stretch his legs. They’d been on the road for most of the day. With the exception of Netta this morning, he’d said his goodbyes last night. He’d be back there later in the year for one of Betty’s pups. He’d promised to take one. Although it wasn’t confirmed yet that she was pregnant, all the signs were pointing that way.

He’d call in on Priscilla when he went back. Yesterday, after he’d taken Merrie to the station, he went round to see her. She was still refusing to forgive Samuel, and he got why. Heunderstood the anger and the sense of betrayal. But he could also see it from Samuel’s perspective. His own decisions were probably rooted in the same fears and inhibitions as Samuel’s had been. And that was the most frightening thing. Because Samuel had known he’d let them all down. That must have been so hard to live with. Maybe even harder to die with.

Doogie took a photo of the mountains. Last night, Frank had told him about that road trip he’d had at Easter when they’d bumped into each other. He’d talked a lot about how he’d been bowled over when he stopped at Glencoe. He sent the photo to him.

A minute later he got a reply:

Lucky bastard.

He smiled. Yes, he was, but it had taken a trip to Birmingham to show him that. Frank was lucky too. Doogie hoped he realised exactly how lucky.

He took a detour that allowed him to stop off at his grandad’s grave. It was in a small cemetery overlooking the sea. His uncle’s cottage was only a mile away. His grandad had loved the sea. Even when he’d lost the strength to walk, he’d have Doogie wheel him down to the shore and they’d sit together watching the waves crashing. Sometimes they’d sit in silence, two generations of Dougal Macraes temporarily at peace with their demons. Other times they’d talk. Mostly about all the Macraes that had come before him. It was like the old man was on a mission to drum as much family history into him in the short time he had left. Because there was one thing his grandad was unequivocal on, Doogie was a Macrae, and this place was as much his heritage as any other Macrae.

Occasionally, they’d touch on old Dougal’s thoughts on life and love. It was just after Doogie had lost Netta for the first timeand he was still hurting. His grandad had helped him see the way through. For all his faults, old Dougal was the only man Doogie had ever talked to. Really talked to. And then just like that he was dead and Doogie was left to figure things out on his own again. Sometimes, life was a real bastard.

He found the grave nestled among the other Macraes, some dating back hundreds of years. It wasn’t hard: he’d been plenty of times before. He wiped dust and salt off the headstone with his sleeve and imagined his grandad’s spirit sitting on top of it, giving him the Macrae stare. He’d probably be telling him what a big fucking mess he’d made of his life. Just like Priscilla. Come to think of it, maybe that’s who she reminded him of. Doogie scanned the other graves, his family, then turned back to his grandad’s imaginary spirit. ‘I’m back, old man.’

It was almost eight by the time he pulled up outside his cottage. Spike ran into the garden sniffing everything and making his mark. Doogie opened the cottage door but Spike wasn’t ready to go in yet. He was a dog for wide open spaces, not the confinement of four walls and big cities. So was Doogie. He dropped his bags inside, closed the door and walked up to the beach. Spike went the other way, up to the farm. He’d go up there soon enough but for now he wanted to feel the moist salty air on his face. He wanted to look out to the horizon and see nothing but sea and sky, hear nothing but the crashing of waves on white sand.

He stood on the sea’s edge and breathed slow and deep. He was where he should be. He was home.

Grace appeared at his side. She slipped her fingers between his. They fitted perfectly. ‘I thought I’d find you here. Spike came to let me know you were back.’

‘He’s missed home. So have I.’

‘It’s missed you. Are you hungry? We could have a barbecue here.’

‘In a bit. First we need to talk.’

‘Good.’ She led him away from the water and pulled him down onto the sand. ‘Talk.’

She was still annoyed with him. He could tell by her manner that he wasn’t going to get off lightly. But that was Grace all over. She didn’t take crap from anyone, not even the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. He loved that about her and he was going to tell her so. He was going to tell her everything. Because Doogie was ready to unpack those boxes now. He was ready to do emotion. She would give him a hard time, but he already knew by the way she’d held his hand on the shore that she would ask him again to marry her. And this time, he wouldn’t run away. This time, he knew what his answer would be.

61

NOT EMPTY. RESTING

The morning sun was warming the back of Colin’s head and casting glorious light on the neat rows of potatoes, carrots, and chard that were surrounding him. A little further away there were ripe tomatoes that needed picking. He’d do that shortly but for the moment, he was sitting on Ursula’s bench counting his blessings. One week ago today, two seismic events had taken place. The first was the successful recapture of his house, along with his car. The second was Ursula leaving for Snowdonia. Colin was now a man with a house, a car and an allotment. The allotment was only temporary until Ursula returned or gave it up. Actually the house was temporary too but that would be up to him to decide when to let it go.

From where he was sitting, he could see Clyde talking to the retired couple whose names he still didn’t know. He’d actually smiled at Colin this morning. Perhaps his new-found humility was finally wearing the old bugger down. His big dog, Colonel, was lying across the path, taking in the sun. Colin missed dogs. He’d never really liked them much, but they’d grown on him while he’d been living at Netta’s and Frank’s. Especially little Maud. Liza told him there was a possibility Betty was havingpups. Spike, apparently. What was that saying about dogs being like their owners? He’d sent a message along those lines to Doogie when he found out. He’d received a reply telling him to fuck off. Typical Chambers. But there was a smiley face next to the words, so Colin knew he hadn’t taken offence really.

How strange it was, the way things had worked out. Colin finally had real friends and one of them was Doogie Chambers. He supposed he should thank Arianne really, rather than have her locked up. He hadn’t wanted to involve the police. The whole idea of it all coming out had filled him with dread. Not least because he knew exactly what his father would say. There’d be talk of him not being man enough etcetera, etcetera. The usual stuff. Mother would have been no better. She’d probably have had one of her faints and told him she’d never be able to face the WI again. All in all it would have been better if things had gone to plan, and Colin could have pretended they’d just gone their own separate ways. But Arianne had crossed a line. She could punch and kick him as much as she wanted to, but when she’d turned on Netta, he realised hiding from it wasn’t an option. The woman was dangerous. She needed help. And if that meant having the world know what happened, so be it. He had family and friends to help him through it. Although probably not his own parents. Oh well.C’est la vie.

Talking of extraordinary workings out, Geraldine had become his new bestie. That said, she’d made it clear she still hadn’t forgiven him for the way he’d treated Netta and never would. It was fair enough. He didn’t think he could forgive himself for it either. He’d be seeing Geraldine later. They’d probably talk about the things he’d written in the notepad since their last talk. He’d been taking it everywhere in case something occurred to him. She was going on holiday in two weeks. Arthur was whisking her off to the Amalfi Coast. Colin had lined up a visit to Ursula while the glamorous granny was away. He waslooking forward to experiencing life in a commune that was in no way a hippy commune. Although he’d already warned Ursula if he saw one dreamcatcher he’d be out of there before you could say yellow lentils.

He saw Arthur coming through the gate and lifted his hand to wave but stopped in mid-air when he saw who was with him. It was Will. Colin sat motionless but his heart was racing. His throat was dry and yet liquid was dripping from the roof of his mouth in the way it did just before you threw up. Arthur veered off towards his own allotment, but Will was on a different course. He was on his way to him. Colin held on to his knees. His palms were sweating. There was every chance he really was going to be sick.

Will stopped on the path in front of the bench. ‘Hey, Dad.’

‘Hey, Will. This is unexpected.’

‘Got room for me?’

Will looked taller and broader than he remembered. He seemed to go on forever, but then Colin hadn’t been this near to him for years. People said they looked alike. They did in a way, although Colin had never been that handsome. Never that self-assured either. Now that he looked closely, he could see Arthur in Will too. Those were probably the handsome parts. Colin had seen photos of Arthur as a young man and there was no denying he'd been a very good-looking chap. He patted the space next to him. ‘Plenty.’

---