Page 68 of Loving Netta Wilde

After a while, the guy came out of the house and followed the same route he’d taken yesterday. An hour later, a woman with big blonde hair and big everything else came out and walked past the car. Doogie smiled to himself. There was no way anyone was going to accuse Colin of having a partner who reminded them of Netta.

The woman came back not long after with a bag of shopping, and the guy returned at about the same time as yesterday. So a pattern was beginning to emerge. Doogie stayed until around midday. Priscilla was expecting him in half an hour, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting.

The old woman opened the door. ‘You’re late.’

‘Only five minutes. The traffic was bad,’ said Doogie.

‘That don’t make you any less late.’

‘You got somewhere to be?’

She scowled at him for a minute then her face wrinkled into a smile. ‘Cheeky monkey.’

Mary used to call him that when he was a kid. He felt a snag from somewhere deep inside, a feeling that was long buried. He’d loved that old lady as much as he loved his mum. Possibly more so when he was little, seeing as she was the one who let him get away with anything and kept him topped up with fig rolls. He still liked a fig roll to this day.

‘I suppose you’ve been wasting your time at that allotment again.’ Priscilla had her arms folded and one eyebrow arched. Doogie half-expected her to slip into a rant, until he realised, she was teasing him.

‘Not today. We’ve finished the project now. Samuel’s patch is cleared and the shed’s tidied up, ready for someone else to take it on.’

‘I tek it you’ve removed all trace of him.’

‘Nah. Ursula said the shed’s exactly as it was when he was there.’

He saw a flash of hesitation in her eyes when he said Ursula’s name. He shouldn’t have mentioned her, but it was too late to take it back. Priscilla’s jaw was already set. Her playful teasing eyes had narrowed. ‘Well she would know.’

‘I can take you there if you like. So you can see it before someone else takes over.’

‘What makes you think me want to waste me precious time going there?’

‘I dunno. Closure I suppose.’

‘You believe in all that claptrap?’ Priscilla looked him up and down like he’d just walked something disgusting into the house and once again he was reminded of Monique. Althoughin Monique’s eyes, he would have been the thing that was disgusting.

‘Not really, but?—’

‘Well don’t say it then, fool. You want a sandwich?’

‘Go on then. I’m starving.’

‘Wait in the living room. I’ll bring it in.’

Doogie noticed Samuel’s letter was still on the mantelpiece. The sound of clattering crockery told him it was safe to go in for a closer look, so he checked to see if it had been opened. It hadn’t. No great surprise there.

The crockery fell silent, and the kettle had finished boiling. He moved some of the cushions away from his place on the sofa, sat down, and pulled out his phone as if he’d been occupying himself with it the whole time. There was a message waiting for him from Merrie:

Hey D, I’m on my way to Birmingham. Probably see you tomorrow, if you’re around.

He never knew whether the D stood for Doogie or Dad. Doogie, probably. It was unlikely she thought of him as her actual dad. That honour would have gone to Claire’s husband, Dom. He was okay with that. It was just his mum he felt bad for. Another act of cowardice on his part had left her without the official title she would have loved.

Priscilla brought in a tray of sandwiches and tea. She glanced at the letter before giving him the once over. ‘You look happy. Got some good news?’

‘My daughter. She’s coming to see me.’

‘You got kids?’ She seemed surprised.

‘Just the one.’

‘She don’t live with you?’

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