Page 49 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘No. I was passing. I wanted to see how you were doing after the letter.’

‘Oh you wanted to see, did you? Well take a good look. There. Now you’ve seen you can go back to them old friends of Samuel and tell them Priscilla Sweeting is doing just fine.’

The door was about to swing shut on him. Doogie put his hand out to stop it. ‘They don’t know I’m here.’

She pulled it back open and looked him up and down. ‘Well don’t stand there messing up my step, get in.’

He edged past her. The top of her head just about reached his chest. She looked tiny against him but that didn’t make her any less fierce. She closed the door behind him. ‘In there.’

He went into the living room. It was a decent size, but it was crammed with furniture and ornaments. She pointed to a big sofa overloaded with cushions. ‘Sit. I’ll make tea.’

He sat down and looked around the room while he waited. One wall was covered with family photos. His eyes searched for one that might have Samuel in it. There was nothing on the wall but he spotted a framed picture on the mantelpiece. He got up to take a closer look and saw it was an old wedding photo. Behind it was the letter, its envelope still sealed.

Mrs Sweeting came in with a tray. ‘That what you here for, to snoop around?’

He slunk back to the sofa. ‘Sorry. I was just curious to see what Mr Sweeting looked like after everything I’ve heard.’

‘What you heard? What them say?’

‘That he was a good man and a good friend. A really nice guy, and a great gardener.’

‘Pah. That’s not much for a lifetime.’

‘I wouldn’t mind that for a description of my life.’

‘Then you’re a fool. Tek a biscuit.’

‘I’m fine thanks. I had a big lunch.’

‘I said tek a biscuit.’

Shit, this old girl was tough. Doogie picked out the smallest one.

She kept her eye on him to make sure he ate it. ‘It’s good. I make them myself. You look a bit like him. Did they tell you that?’

Doogie shook his head, his mouth still full of biscuit.

‘That’s probably why they sent you.’

That made sense. It was no wonder Clyde had been so sure the old woman would open the door to him.

‘Not as handsome as you, though. Where’s your weaselly friend?’

‘We’re not friends. I was just looking after him.’

‘What are you, some kind of social worker?’

‘Just trying to help out.’

‘You want to help out, you can cut my hedge for me.’

Doogie hauled himself out of the overstuffed sofa. At last, something he could get right. ‘No problem.’

Her tongue clicked. ‘Not on the Lord’s day. Come back tomorrow. Ten o’clock. Don’t be late. Don’t be early either.’

He left Mrs Sweeting with a promise to be there at ten o’clock sharp and drove around until he found a park. He picked a quiet bench to make some calls. The first was to Merrie. She preferred video calls. He didn’t mind them. They’d only been seeing each other for about four years so looking at his daughter’s face was still a novelty for him.

She popped up on the screen. ‘Hiya. Where are you?’

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