Page 61 of Loving Netta Wilde

The bottle of Sauvignon Blanc they shared wasn’t bad for the price and they both agreed, it was definitely a step up from the last bottle they’d shared. Ursula was good company but then, he already knew that. It seemed she could talk about anything, but she could also listen. She asked about Colin’s art. He replied, falteringly at first, then gradually opening up. For the first time in months, he felt connected to it. Not enough to want to paint again, but at least enough for him to feel some nostalgia for it.

It was hard to recall when he’d last spent time over a bottle of wine and a meal, just talking to somebody who didn’t abhor him. And it had been such a long time since he’d actually enjoyed the company of others. Such a long time since he’d wanted to know more about a person. ‘Do you mind if I ask about your marriage?’ he said.

‘That depends on what you’re about to ask,’ she replied.

‘Forgive me if I’m prying, but was it happy?’

She sighed. ‘It was neither happy nor unhappy. It was just empty. I take it your marriage to Arthur’s daughter was unhappy?’

‘Ah well, that’s a long story. Suffice to say, one of us was ecstatically happy until they found out the other was very much not.’

Ursula both frowned and smiled at him. ‘That’s very cryptic.’

‘Sorry. I suppose I’m still bitter about it. But Arianne was there when I needed someone. She looked after me.’ Up to a point, but Ursula didn’t need to hear about that. No one did.

‘I had my allotment friends. They filled the emptiness.’

‘Especially Samuel? Sorry I didn’t mean to imply anything was going on between you.’

She laughed. ‘I know. Shall we go? I have a few more jobs to do at home.’

They crossed the road, towards Ursula’s house. Once over, she turned to him. ‘Thank you for today. I’d forgotten how nice it was to have company.’

‘Me too. I’ve enjoyed it. I can come and help some more, if you want.’

She shook her head. ‘These are personal jobs I need to take care of.’

He smiled to mask his disappointment. ‘I understand.’

‘What I said about my marriage. It wasn’t the only thing that was empty. So was I. Perhaps if I hadn’t been, I would have realised how unhappy I was. But it’s hard to feel anything when you’ve been completely broken. You see my husband’s need for control wasn’t just over the garden, or the house, or the car. It was over everything, including me. He had ways of shaping people. Such ways. I think you know a bit about that too.’

‘What do you mean?’ So he’d been right. Arthur had been telling her about him and as usual, it would only be one side of the story.

‘I thought… Arianne.’

‘Oh Arianne. She has her moments but not that. No.’

Her eyes narrowed a little, but her face soon softened. ‘Then it’s my turn to apologise. I was mistaken. See you tomorrow?’

‘For sure, yes.’

He waited at the bus stop and kept his eyes on her as she walked down the busy street. To his surprise, Arthur’s words popped up into his head, the ones about how he’d broken Netta. It was true, he had wanted to crush her but he’d never wanted her dead. He’d just wanted her to see him.

Ursula finally disappeared into the distance. Such a lovely lady. He wondered how she’d managed to saddle herself with a husband like that. Although, there were always two sides to a story, weren’t there? And then it occurred to him that there was only one side that mattered. It just depended whose side you were on when it came to which one that was.

35

THE ONLY SIDE THAT MATTERED

Colin buried his head in the pillow. It was just gone four a.m. No time to be awake. No time to be asleep either, according to his brain. It was Ursula. He’d dreamed about her in that stark, sterile house filled with stark, sterile objects. He’d seen her in that meticulously landscaped garden, wearing her bright blue dress. She’d been digging, her lean muscular arms taut with the effort. On her feet, she wore Athenian style sandals. Dirt was stuck in between her toes. Her toenails were black, but she paid them no heed.

She’d carried on digging until she was so far down, he’d only been able to see the top of her head. Frightened he might lose her, Colin had called out to her to be careful. She’d hauled herself out and beckoned him over. ‘Look what I found.’

The hole had been deeper than he’d imagined. Too deep to see the bottom. In the time between her climbing out and him walking over, it had filled with something liquid. Not water. Too dark and thick. A small white speck had been just about visible far below the surface. He’d squinted to get a better look and saw that it was getting bigger, but that was because it was floating upwards. As it got closer to the surface, he’d been able to makeout a roundish shape. A ball? The liquid had been dark red against the pale shape. Like blood in fact. And what was that shape? Oh fuck. It was a head. And as it had bobbed on the top of the well of thick red blood, Colin saw that it was his head. Its eyes had opened, and it was silently screaming one word. Help.

He was glad to be awake now. Frightened to close his eyes in case he drifted back into that awful nightmare. He retrieved Will’s sweatshirt from under his pillow and pushed his face into it, glad to inhale its comforting odour. Was it too early to get up? He couldn’t just lie here with that dream still fresh in his mind.

He crept downstairs, careful not to wake Frank. Colin hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. After lunch with Ursula he’d gone to a pub and waited there until it was dark enough for another night of spying on those bastards who were squatting in his home. Frank must have been in bed when he’d returned.

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