Page 23 of Loving Netta Wilde

Having reached the door without too much issue, Colin rang the bell. It was opened by a great tank of a man, not muscular as such, but big and wide. It was unmistakably the man Colin had seen in the window on the day Arianne had thrown him out. ‘Yeah?’

‘I want to come in. This is my house. I want to come in.’

‘Fuck off.’

The door slammed shut. But Colin hadn’t splashed out on all that Dutch courage just to stand here and get a door in his face. No. Absolutely not. He rang the bell again, and when no one came, he hammered his fist on it and demanded to be let in.

The door was flung open so fast it bashed against the wall. Despite his insobriety, Colin thought of his plasterwork. But not for long, because there, in all her tracksuit bottomed glory, was Arianne, her eyes flashing wildly, her face purple. Behind her stood the big man. She jabbed Colin in the shoulder. ‘I told you to keep away.’

He was suddenly reminded of their last argument and all the arguments before that, and he wobbled, both inside and out. But then he thought of Liza. If she were here, she wouldn’t put up with this. He steadied himself and looked Arianne in the eye. ‘This is my house. I want you out.’

‘And I want you out.’

‘I am out, but I shouldn’t be. You should be out.’

‘Well I’m not getting out, so piss off.’

‘No, you piss o—’ Before Colin could finish, a fist came for him, caught his left eye and finished it for him. His feet got in the way of each other, and he tumbled over, smashing the side of his face against the ground as he hit it.

Arianne stood over him, flexing her hand. ‘I warned you, Colin. Next time, I’ll set Byron on yer.’

‘Anytime, babe. Anytime,’ said big, bad Byron, as the door closed once again.

Colin scrambled up and stumbled away. He was no longer a man with a plan. He was just a man with a very sore face.

16

AN INFURIATINGLY COOL SHOWDOWN

It was the penultimate day of Frank’s teaching career. Penultimate half day actually, seeing as he only taught on Wednesday mornings. The summer term was ending on Friday but tomorrow was his last working day, then that was it. He would no longer be an English teacher. The decision he’d made after that life-changing road trip was finally happening. He felt good about it. A wee bit nervous too, but the overriding sentiment was cautious optimism.

He stepped out into the garden to finish his coffee. It was too beautiful a morning to be inside. Fred pattered around, leaving his mark on every available bush or post. It was probably something to do with having another dog on his patch, all this excessive spraying. Spike was in Netta’s garden, his eyes following Fred. Only the sound of Netta’s kitchen door opening made him look away. Frank hurried back into the house, not yet ready to face whoever it was that was emerging.

Back inside, he listened out for Colin but heard nothing. After a final pat on the head for Fred, he left for work.

Frank was back home by one. He treated himself to a beer with his healthy lunch and took them both into the garden. Fred came out with him and stretched out by his feet. If the morning had been grand, the afternoon looked to be even more so. He closed his eyes and thought of all the things he was going to do now that he was free. Decorating the house was an absolute must. It hadn’t been touched since long before his wife, Ellen, had died and none of it was to his taste. Except that is for Robyn’s old room which had been purple until last month when he’d painted it pale blue. Obviously, decorating wasn’t going to be his only activity, but it was high on the priority list. Mainly because it represented another step towards being new-man Frank.

A low growl from Fred made Frank open his eyes. Spike was in Netta’s garden again. Frank’s hand dropped down to Fred’s back. ‘Ah come on now, Frederick. Don’t be like that. The fella’s just being friendly.’

‘It’s the testosterone.’

Frank looked over the low fence, although he needn’t have. He already knew it was Doogie Chambers. ‘He’s been neutered. I thought that was supposed to make them less aggressive.’

Doogie shrugged. ‘Couldn’t say. As far as I know, Spike’s still intact but he’s as soft as they come. He’s feeling a bit sorry for himself. Betty’s been having a go at him. All right if we come over?’

For a nanosecond Frank contemplated telling him that it was not okay, maybe even telling him to feck off back to Scotland. But it was just a nanosecond. ‘Sure. I’ve beer in the fridge if you want one.’

‘Yeah, why not.’ Doogie came through the gate, trailed by Spike who eyed Fred nervously.

When Frank came back with the beer, Fred and Spike appeared to have settled their minor differences and were lying next to each other. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing. They worked it out for themselves. The accountant not in then?’

‘Colin? I don’t think so. He’s probably gone to the allotment with Arthur.’

‘Cried off apparently.’ Doogie took a battered tobacco tin out of his pocket and pulled out a ready rolled smoke. ‘Okay?’

At Frank’s nod, he lit up. Within seconds, the pungent hue of weed filled the air. Oh, so it was that kind of smoke. Frank tried to remember the last time he’d smoked weed. A long time ago, for sure. Definitely before Robyn was born, although he couldn’t pinpoint an exact date. Doogie took a draw then snapped open his can without saying a word. The guy was so cool it was almost intimidating. Almost? Yeah, right.

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