Page 44 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘Liza?’ His voice faltered. ‘Is that how she sees me?’

‘It’s an inspired painting.’

‘Yes, it is.’ He let out a single sob.

‘You know, it would mean the world to her if you painted alongside her.’

‘It’s all cockeyed this, isn’t it? Our kids shouldn’t have to take care of us. At least not until we’re old and infirm.’

Frank remembered all the times when his own darling girl, Robyn, had looked out for him when he was at his lowest. ‘It doesn’t always work that way, Colin. Sometimes you have to let the people who love you take over.’

Colin rubbed his eyes. ‘What about the ones who don’t love you? What are you supposed to do with them?’

26

THE PORTRAIT OF COLIN GREY

Colin had been having a nice dream about him and Netta on their wedding day. Or Annette as she’d been to him then. The vicar was just about to pronounce them man and wife when he woke up and found her looming over him. Maybe looming was an overstatement, but she was in his room which came as a shock. ‘Could you not have knocked?’

‘I did, but you didn’t answer.’

‘So you just barged in.’

‘Pretty much, yes. You look as bad as Frank. Were you two on the pop last night?’

‘In a manner of speaking, yes. Is there something I can do for you?’

‘The others have taken the dogs for the Sunday morning walk. I thought we’d have a chat.’

Colin put his head in his hands. ‘Oh God no, not a chat.’

The corners of Netta’s mouth twitched. ‘I’ll make you a strong coffee.’

He threw on some clothes and went down to the kitchen where coffee was waiting for him. The little dog, Maud, was with her. Thanks to his hangover, the room seemed brighterthis morning. Brighter in the sunny sense of the word that this. The kitchen itself was rather dull and tired and in need of a good revamp, much like the rest of this house. If there was one thing Colin had learned about Frank O’Hare during his stay here, it was that he was not a man who cared too much about appearances. Especially when it came to his home. Shabby chic it was not.

Dust particles floated before his eyes. It made him think of the shed he’d spent the last few days cleaning. Ursula had already gone by the time he’d finished yesterday which was disappointing because he wanted to see her face when she first went in.

‘We can sit outside if you like. There’s no one else at home.’ She meant Will. It was safe to go out there because Will wasn’t at home. In truth, Colin was feeling a bit too delicate to face the sunshine, but he should take the opportunity while he was able to. And anyway, the smell of stale curry was making him feel sick.

‘No one? Has Doogie gone for the walk as well then?’ He was thinking of Frank, imagining how hard that would be for him. Frank hadn’t admitted it last night, but Colin could tell, Chambers was stirring up all sorts of emotions in him too. And like he said last night, he understood. Frank had obviously thought he was making trouble. If it had been a year or so ago, his assumption would probably have been spot on. But a lot had happened since then and frankly, Colin didn’t have the energy for trouble. He’d actually been trying to show a bit of empathy, but it was lost on Frank. Naturally. Like everyone else, Frank had long ago formed an opinion of him that was not for changing.

‘Doogie had something else to do. It’s just us. Shall we?’ Netta had clearly decided not to wait for his answer and already had the back door open.

They sat on a bench in the shade. It was nice to be out here in the fresh air, not worrying that he was going to offend someone’s sensibilities by simply being here. He let his hand slip down to Maud and she pushed her head against it.

Netta smiled, more at the dog than him. ‘She has a sense for people who are struggling. She must think you need a friend.’

He had a sudden flashback from last night, that portrait of Liza’s, and took his hand away. It was bad enough that his daughter pitied him. He didn’t need it from a fucking dog as well. Not taking the hint, the dog leaned against his leg. Colin considered pushing it away, but Netta caught his eye and he thought the better of it.

‘I was doing a market in Moseley yesterday. I saw Arianne again.’

‘Oh.’ He supposed it had to happen. Netta was always doing markets in the area and Arianne, with her obsession for so-called natural foods, was bound to bump into her at some point. ‘Was she on her own?’

‘No. Someone was with her.’

‘A big guy? Name of Shelley?’

‘Byron. Wrong romantic poet.’

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