Page 14 of Loving Netta Wilde

Many years ago, when Colin was at school, his history teacher had been inordinately fond of the Victorians. There was nothing about that era he didn’t relish lecturing them on endlessly. But there was one particular aspect of Victorian society that he delighted in more than any: the penal system. It occurred to Colin that this allotment would have had the Victorians, with their fondness for pointless hard labour, rubbing their thighs with glee. It also occurred to him that he was being punished for the way things had turned out with him and Netta, and that when Arthur relayed the story of their day to Geraldine later, the two of them would also be rubbing their thighs with glee.

‘Can you manage that?’ Arthur’s face was straight, but Colin was in no doubt that in his head, he was turning cartwheels of joy.

‘Yes. What will you be doing?’

Arthur pointed in the direction of the jungle of overgrowth. ‘I’m going to start on that. Minnie, lie down and stay. I don’t want to be slicing your head off.’

The dog lay down in front of the shed with her head on her paws. She was a big thing, although not as big as the other three of Maud’s puppies. Aside from colouring and a wiry coat, none of them looked like little Maud. The father must have been a size.

Colin began digging, determined to prove to Arthur that he would not be broken. One hour in and his resolve was beginning to fade. He’d spent most of that time removing weeds and the odd root vegetable. The wheelbarrow was full but there was very little earth that was weed free. All the same, it was a good enough excuse to give his sore hands a rest.

The dog, Minnie, got up and followed him, giving Arthur a mournful look as they reached him. He stopped scything and wiped his brow. ‘Okay, you can go, but don’t wander off. Keep an eye on her, Colin.’

So his enforced labour had been extended to babysitting dogs now? Colin tutted and set off with Minnie at his side. With some effort he shoved the wheelbarrow through the gap in the thicket and kept it upright enough not to lose its contents. A year or two ago, when he’d had a bit more about him, this kind of thing wouldn’t have been quite so hard. Bloody Arianne. This was all her fault.

Halfway along the main path, he realised he didn’t know where the composting area was. Arthur must have pointed it out to him on the highlights tour, but he hadn’t been listening. He stopped and looked around. Where the hell was it?

‘You lost?’ An elderly man appeared from behind a row of tall, leafy canes. He wore overalls and a straw trilby.

‘I’m looking for the composting area.’

‘It’s over there.’ He nodded at Minnie. ‘She not with you then?’ His accent sounded Caribbean.

‘Sort of. I’m helping her owner out.’

‘Okay. I thought you’d come to see your daddy.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The man ignored him. ‘Colonel, your girl’s here. Colonel.’ A big hairy black and grey monster of a dog came out from behind a shed and ambled towards Minnie. ‘That’s her daddy, yer know. Where’s Arthur?’

‘Other side of that hedge.’

‘He started without me? I’ll get my tools.’

‘Over there you said?’ Colin pointed in the direction the man had vaguely indicated but he didn’t get an answer. The man was already disappearing into his shed. Colin walked on, then remembered Minnie. He turned back in time to see her forcing a new hole through the thicket, aided and abetted by the monster dog. Well, it was one way of getting it down, he supposed.

When he returned, he found the man and Arthur standing over the patch he’d dug so far. He heard Arthur say: ‘He’s not much of a gardener.’

The man pushed back his trilby and scanned Colin. ‘I can see that. Clyde Wilson.’

‘Colin Grey,’ he said, rising above the insult.

‘Colin is Netta’s ex-husband,’ said Arthur.

Clyde Wilson looked Colin up and down extremely slowly and whistled through his teeth. It would seem his reputation had gone before him and had already been shot to pieces.

10

TWO AMBUSHES AND A CAPPUCCINO

When Frank’s own daughter, Robyn, had been living at home they’d sometimes sit down together and paint. They were some of the happiest times of his life, him and his darling girl sharing something they both loved. Now that she was making her life in Edinburgh, Robyn didn’t have much time for painting. It was a pity, but kids grow up. One minute you’re changing their nappies and the next, you’re helping them with their first mortgage. That was life.

In some ways, Liza plugged the gaping hole that Robyn had left when she moved away from home. He still missed his daughter but moments like these, him and Liza painting together, helped to remind him that life was also about swings and roundabouts, losses and gains. He didn’t get to paint with Robyn anymore, but he really enjoyed the times when he and Liza worked, easels side by side. She was a lot chattier than Robyn. Frank normally worked alone, and it had been a bit off-putting at first, but he’d got used to it and soon found he liked the noisy Liza times as much as the quiet ones on his own. Besides, it wouldn’t last forever. Liza was almost twenty-one.Sooner or later she’d move out of Netta’s and make her own way in the world, just like Robyn.

That road trip he’d been on over the Easter holidays had been life changing. He’d come back a new man. New-man Frank was a fitter, healthier, more passionate version of himself. New-man Frank made the most of precious moments and embraced life’s ups and downs. New-man Frank was going to enjoy this time with Liza for as long as it lasted.

He was painting a landscape from a sketch he’d made on that road trip in readiness for an exhibition he had coming up in the autumn. Liza was painting a portrait. She’d started it last week and it was beginning to take shape. The subject’s character was already beginning to emerge. Strikingly so. Frank stopped for a minute to admire it. She was talented. No doubt about it. ‘I love the way you’ve used tones and textures to capture the essence of him.’

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