Page 109 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘Have you been taking lessons from your grandmother?’

‘Just shut up and do it, okay?’

He took another long, slow breath. ‘Okay.’

She let go of him when they were standing in front of the last painting he’d started months ago. The client had been waiting for it since then. Colin had several other commissions that he’d accepted before he’d become too frightened to paint. He’d promised Liza he’d try to complete them before deciding whether to give it up for good.

‘Pick up the brush and just move it around the canvas without the paint.’ Yes, Geraldine had definitely being giving her tips.

His hand shook as he chose a brush and lifted it to the canvas. He was sweating and he wanted to throw up again.

She put her hand over his. ‘I’m here with you, Dad.’ Together they moved the brush around. Circles at first, then strokes, long and short. Colin’s hand stopped shaking.

‘Do you want to try it with some paint?’ she said.

‘Not this one. I might spoil it. I’ll get a fresh canvas. You start on yours.’

She moved over to the easel she’d set up next to his. He watched her painting for a while, admiring her technique and the lines that were forming. She was such a talent.

‘Standing over me and doing nothing was not part of the deal,’ she said.

‘I know, I just love watching you. You’re so good.’

‘Go and get a canvas now!’

‘Okay, bossy boots. God, you’re so like your mother and grandmother.’

Colin took his painting off the easel and laid it against the stack of finished ones. The cloth covering the next pile had slipped a little. He put it back in place. Maybe one day he’d show the ones he had hidden in there to Liza. He’d explain to her how every time he tried to paint, all that came out was another account of his own personal hell. He’d tell her how he was so afraid of what might appear on the canvas, he didn’t dare pick up a brush. Maybe one day. When he could face them again.

He went into the old pantry to get a new canvas and smiled when he saw the one with the Netta-shaped hole in the centre. He was going to keep that one as a reminder of the moment she stood between him and Arianne to save him. Even with twigs in her hair, arms scratched to pieces and vermillion paint running down her face, she was magnificent. He might frame it just as it was.

Liza glanced over at the blank canvas that he’d placed on the easel. ‘Paint anything. It doesn’t matter what.’

‘I’m waiting for inspiration.’ He looked around him and his eyes fell on his notebook to something Ursula had said about Samuel’s patch. He’d written it down later and had returned to it time and again, underlining it each time.

‘Still looking for inspiration?’ she said.

‘No. It’s not a picture but it might be a start.’

He chose forest green, the colour of leaves and allotments and growth. Slowly and shakily he painted the words:

Not empty. Resting. Waiting to be filled up again.

62

WELL, I SUPPOSE…

It was mid-afternoon and Netta was in Frank’s bed watching a spider spinning a web across one corner of the ceiling. She’d have liked to think normality had been restored but that wasn’t true. The old normality had been consigned to the bin the day Colin came to stay. For a while everything got messed up. Then it got worse. Then it got better. And from all that a new normal had emerged. One in which Colin had become part of her family. Doogie too. Possibly Grace in the future as well. Who knew what was ahead of them?

On the plus side, carnal relations had been resumed between her and Frank. They’d been as good as ever, with maybe just a little extra spark after all that had gone on.

Saying goodbye to Doogie had been a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. She should have known, because saying goodbye to Doogie was always hard. It was like letting a part of herself go. She liked to think that in a parallel universe somewhere, there was another version of her and him leading the life they’d imagined they would, back when he was her Heathcliff and she was his crazy mad, one and only Netta Wilde.

She checked her phone yet again, hoping for a message to tell her that Grace had forgiven him and there was a wedding on the cards. It was his turn to be happy now and she wanted it so much for him.

There was no message from him but there was one from Liza saying she was coming home later. Yesterday, Will had been to see Colin and familial relations had also been resumed, which was a relief. He and Belle were staying over there for a few days and Liza was taking a break. The new normal. At least that got Netta off the hook in the staying-over department. It wasn’t staying with Colin that bothered her, just staying in the house. It gave her the creeps. Not only because of the life she’d had when she’d lived there, but also because it was the place where she’d nearly met her untimely demise. No one was saying too much about that, but she knew they were all thinking it could have been the end of her. And although she didn’t want to dwell on it herself, it had certainly made her stop and think. You only got one life, and all that. Also, it hadn’t escaped her notice that it was Colin who’d saved her. Although, it had to be said, she wouldn’t have needed saving if he hadn’t got her into that situation in the first place.

Will had asked if she minded him staying there which was sweet of him. Right after he asked, yet again, if she and Frank were going to get married which was not so sweet of him. She didn’t understand why the younger generation was so hung up on marriage. You’d have thought they’d have seen the mess their parents made of it and vowed to keep well away from it.

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